The following story contains cheating. Specifically, a married man cheating with a nineteen-year-old girl. If that’s not your thing, we understand. We recommend you skip this story.
It was just a moment of madness. That’s what I told myself. Just one, small blip in an otherwise faultless marriage. It could never happen again.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Rachel was right though.
I felt horrible. A guilt to intense I felt physically sick those first few days after it happened. But, as Rachel had said, it prompted me to pay my wife more attention than I had in years. I lavished Ellen with compliments and love. It shouldn’t have taken what happened to trigger this in me, but it had. I felt like I’d come close to losing Ellen, even though she had no idea what happened, even though I was never going to tell her. I saw her with new eyes because of it. I saw how gorgeous and wonderful my wife was. I wanted her with fresh need. We fucked every night for two weeks.
But, as Rachel had also predicted, the guilt lessened. I didn’t vanish entirely, it still ate at me, but it waned. And as my guilt receded, Rachel returned to my mind. As bad as I felt, as in love with my wife as I was, I couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel. How she looked naked, how she felt, how she tasted. What we’d done. Something Ellen would never allow. Would never enjoy.
Still, I told myself I wouldn’t do anything about it. I wouldn’t even think about contacting Rachel. If she babysat for us again, I’d go out of my way to avoid her. I’d given into temptation once. It would never happen again though. But life takes a cruel delight in making a mockery of my plans. As did Rachel, I discovered.
I was in the coffee bar at work, queuing for my first hit of the day, when my phone vibrated in my suit pocket. The notification said I had a message from Nigel. I didn’t know any Nigels. Then it hit me. Nigel was the name Rachel had used when she saved her number into my phone. My heart rate kicked up instantly, my stomach tightened with guilt and excitement.
Delete the message without even reading it. I knew that’s what I should do. Block the number. That was the sensible course of action. But I was weak. I was curious. I opened the message.
+I’m bored. What are you up to?+
I slid my phone back into my pocket and ignored Rachel’s message. I didn’t delete it though. Or block her number. I reached the front of the queue at the coffee bar and gave my order. My phone vibrated again as the barista made my americano. I tried my best to look calm and composed as my phone burned a hole in my pocket. I gave in and pulled it out again.
+I want to see you.+
Ignore her. Don’t engage. But then she’d keep texting me. I had to cut this off now before it went any further. I texted her back.
+That’s not a good idea. We can’t.+
Rachel replied seconds later, at a speed only teenagers can text.
+We can and we should. I meant what I said Tom. It’s never been that good. I want to do it again. I want more.+
Visions of Rachel flashed through my mind. The harder I tried not to think about her, the more vivid the memories came. Her naked and sitting across me. Her hair cascading down her body, her slender torso, her full, high, impossibly round breasts. The feel of her tight pussy as she rode me. Her reaching back to slide my cock out of cunt to touch it against that second place. Her bent over the hood of my car, rain washing over our bodies as I held her and fucked her. The sight of my cock in her arse. I realised I was hardening as I walked away from the coffee bar towards my desk.
My phone buzzed again.
+I’ve never let anyone come in my arse before.+
Oh god. Don’t remind me. It had felt incredible to fuck her there, even better to release and let myself go inside her. It had been the dirtiest, the most glorious, most beguiling thing I’d done with anyone. It was the part of it all that made me feel the deepest guilt and shame. It was the part that tortured me with how incredible it had been.
I couldn’t resist. I replied again.
+I don’t believe you. You’ve done that before.+
My phone buzzed before I’d even put it away.
+I’ve not. You were my first. My first there, anyway.+
I tried not to think about it. I tried to push it out of my mind. I tried not to picture how Rachel had looked beneath me, her back arched, her round, thick arse spread as I thrust into her. How it had felt to come inside her. How she’d come with me, how crazy she’d been. I failed completely.
Rachel didn’t stop. She didn’t give up.
+Have you ever done that before?+
I read her text but didn’t reply. Another message came.
+You loved it, didn’t you?+
Her next message arrived moments later.
+I know you did. We’ve got a shared kink Tom. Like you said. That’s sex at its best. We can’t ignore that. I want more. You do too.+
Another message popped up beneath her last one.
+I like to put things up there Tom. When I play with myself. You want to see?+
Fuck me, this girl adıyaman seks hikayeleri was dangerous. Beautiful, stunning, young, full of life, hot as hell. Too clever for her own good. And she was getting under my skin again, into my head. I took a deep breath to steady myself. I locked my phone and dropped it into the top drawer of my desk as I sat down and opened my laptop. I needed to get Rachel off my mind. I tried to focus on my work, hoping I could get absorbed in it, hoping I could forget about Rachel and what we’d done together, what she was offering me.
My phone made a loud, reverberating din as it vibrated against the thin metal floor of the drawer. It sounded like an angry hornet in there. I told myself to ignore it. Five seconds later I slid the drawer open and grabbed my phone to open Rachel’s message.
+You want to see?+
See what? I didn’t know what that meant.
A follow-up message appeared as I held my phone. An image. An icon circled over the blurred square as it downloaded and resolved itself. It clicked into focus and my breath caught in my throat. Jesus fucking Christ.
I looked around behind me to make sure no one could see my phone. I was pretty sure I’d be fired on the spot if someone saw what Rachel had just sent me. To my great shame, I didn’t delete it right away. I cradled my phone in my hand, I held it close to my face as I took a second look. As I stared at it.
Rachel must have positioned herself in front of a mirror, as the image was her bent over, her phone in one hand, pointed back at the mirror. Her naked body filled the screen. Rachel was on her knees, her legs splayed, her arse facing the mirror. Her plump, smooth, flushed pussy was on full display. A small, purple vibrator was pressed against it, clutched in her hand that wasn’t holding her phone.
That wasn’t the focus of the photo though. That was about an inch higher. Rachel had two fingers buried past the second knuckle in her arsehole.
Another message arrived beneath that heart-stopping image.
+Doing this now. Wish you were here.+
I locked my phone and dropped it on the top of my desk. I felt dizzy. I made an effort to slow my breathing, to clear my head. This girl was more than dangerous, she was marriage suicide.
My phone span slightly as it vibrated. I plucked it up before I could stop myself. A second image popped up, the wheel span again as my phone downloaded it.
Fucking hell.
Rachel had drawn her fingers out of her behind. She was holding the handle of a hairbrush against herself there now. It was made of a smooth, dark pink material. It was tapered at the point but curved out into a thicker shape.
+You think I can take it? Do you dare me?+
I replied this time. I couldn’t stop myself. I was weak. I hated myself but it didn’t stop me.
+I dare you.+
My phone went silent. It went dead in my hands for long moments. I felt a stab of disappointment that Rachel had stopped. Had I done wrong? But my disillusionment was replaced by an adrenaline rush, a surge of excitement, as another image popped up on my screen.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Rachel had managed it. She’d excelled herself. The hairbrush was buried a good three or more inches into her arse. She’d worked it deep, surprisingly quickly. The handle glistened with what I assumed was lube.
My phone vibrated again as I stared at that photo. Another image resolved. Rachel had worked her hairbrush even deeper into herself. There was only an inch or two of it left beneath the head of the brush now. She wasn’t even holding it any longer. The hairbrush was buried in her arse, it stood up over her perfectly curved cheeks. Rachel had the vibrator back in that hand, it was pressed to her visibly slippery cunt again.
I felt dazed. Drugged. My hands trembled. My dick was hard and throbbing against my thigh.
Another message popped up beneath the images.
+You want to come over? My parents are out.+
My phone buzzed again.
+I’m so fucking horny. Can’t stop thinking about you.+
Another buzz.
+You can do whatever you want to me. Whatever. You want to be this hairbrush?+
My heart was racing, my phone shaking in my fingers. I didn’t reply, but that didn’t stop Rachel. She kept messaging me. She told me what she wanted me to do to her. She sent me a photo with what looked like a butt plug in her arse. A pink faux jewel was embedded in the flared, silver base of it. She sent me an image of her on her back, her legs spread, her cunt slick and swollen, her fingers back in her arse, three of them that time.
I still didn’t reply. I wasn’t strong enough to not read her messages, to not pour over the photos she’d sent me, but I held back from answering her pleas for me to come over and see her. I couldn’t. I couldn’t ever see her again. I couldn’t be in the same room as Rachel. She was too enticing, too beautiful, too wicked. Too tempting.
I left work early that day. I was getting nothing done, I couldn’t focus on a thing. Ellen was surprised to find me at home already when she got back from work. I told my wife my day had been usual, uneventful, but that I had a migraine coming on, so I came home early. She fetched me a glass of water and a pain killer, then she joined me on the sofa.
“You’re still flying to Frankfurt next week?” Ellen asked.
“Yep. Flying Tuesday, coming back Thursday. I should be home some time that evening.”
Ellen nodded. “That’s what I thought. Sarah’s planning a girls’ night out that Thursday. Just the usual, restaurant then a bar, but I’ll be out all evening. I’ll give Rachel a call, get her to come over and take care of Jake and Katie.”
I coughed as I drank. I spluttered and sprayed water all over myself. “You’re sure? I mean, does your girls’ night have to be this Thursday?”
Ellen looked puzzled. “It’s no trouble. The kids won’t mind, they love Rachel. I’ll send her a message now to see if she’s free.”
I couldn’t think what to say to stop my wife without making her suspicious. I watched in mute horror as she sent the message. I was sure Rachel would be free. The universe is never that kind.
“I hope she’s available,” Ellen said. “I’ve not seen the girls in ages.” She put her phone down. “And I don’t want to ask anyone else. Rachel’s such a smart, likeable young girl, don’t you think? She’s trustworthy. I can leave the kids with her and I don’t even think about them.”
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t really know her.”
“And she’s so pretty too,” Ellen said. “Beautiful. I wonder how old she is now, nineteen, twenty? I bet she’s beating the boys away with a shitty stick.”
“I wouldn’t know.” My voice came out high, constricted. I tried to relax, to sound less fucking guilty. “I’ve barely ever spoken to her.”
“You didn’t talk when you drove her home last week?”
My throat tightened again. I felt blood rushing to my face. I was saved from further interrogation when Ellen’s phone chimed next to her. She plucked it up and unlocked the screen. “Oh good, she is free.” Ellen beamed at me. “That’s settled then. Can you pay Rachel when you get home? I think you’ll be back before me. Could you give her a lift home again?”
I lived in terror the next few days. Ellen talking about Rachel, me seeing her again, it brough the guilt and fear back on with a vengeance. I blocked Rachel’s number in my phone. I deleted all the messages she’d sent me, all those pictures. I could still see them though when I closed my eyes.
I flew to Frankfurt for business. Ellen’s plans weren’t cancelled or delayed, as I’d prayed they would be. She confirmed that Thursday morning that she was going out with the girls. I felt dread and excitement all afternoon at the prospect of seeing Rachel again.
I stepped out into a fine summer’s evening as I exited the terminal to stand in the taxi rank out front. The heat of a scorching day hung in the air still as the sun went down and the sky filled with dusk pinks and purples. It was humid too. My suit clung to me as I started to sweat. I felt drained from work, irritable and tired from the nightmare that is Frankfurt airport and my turbulence-laden flight. All the excitement had gone out of me. I just wanted to get home and get Rachel out of the house as fast as possible. This time, I knew, she wouldn’t tempt me. This time I was going to be strong. No matter what she did.
Rachel stood from the sofa and bounced over into the hallway as soon as I came through the front door. She held her hands together in front of herself. She smiled at me, but it wasn’t that confident, knowing smile I’d seen last time. It was uncertain. Rachel looked shy. I’d been so scared of seeing her again, of coming face-to-face with the sultry temptress that had seduced me last time, with that resolute young woman who’d taken what she wanted from me. But this evening, Rachel looked nervous. She looked every inch the nineteen-year-old girl she was.
“Hey you,” Rachel said.
“How were the kids, did they give you any trouble?” I was a little short with Rachel, there was no friendliness in my voice. I made it clear this was nothing but business.
Rachel’s smile fell. She spoke like a babysitter talking to a parent. She told me what had happened that evening, that my children had been great, that they’d eaten their dinners and gone to bed without too much fuss. The house was so quiet I could hear the clock in the kitchen ticking. “Are you OK to walk home?” I asked Rachel as I paid her.
Rachel nodded. She looked crestfallen, but she didn’t try anything, she didn’t make any kind of move. She looked beaten. “Sure.” Rachel walked over to her shoes where they stood by the front door. She didn’t put them on though. She looked up at me. “Do you mind if I use the toilet before I go?”
My first reaction was to say no. I just wanted her out of the house as fast as possible. Rachel had asked the question innocently enough though, and I couldn’t deny her the use of the toilet. Especially before a walk home. “Go on then.”
Rachel skipped across the polished wooden floor of the hallway to the door of the downstairs toilet. I couldn’t help noticing her pink cotton socks looked like the same ones she’d worn that night. The same socks she’d got covered in mud as I… I drove the thought from my head. No. I couldn’t think about that. I walked into the kitchen to fix myself a drink.
I found a bottle of tonic water in the drinks cupboard and a lemon in the fridge. I opened a new bottle of gin, and fixed myself a warm but welcome G&T.
“Can I have one of those too?”
I turned at the sound of her voice. My heart skipped a beat as I saw Rachel standing in the kitchen doorway. I nearly dropped my drink. All I could manage was a strangled, “no.”
Rachel was naked except for those pink socks. Just standing there in the doorway, smiling at me, her glorious body on full display. And sweet Jesus, she looked incredible. Rachel was the vision of youthful radiance, of slim, toned, rude perfection. Her thick golden hair tumbled down and free across her slender shoulders. Her stomach was flat, her breasts full and high, her legs toned and athletically muscled. Rachel’s smooth pussy was visible as two plump, fleshy pink lips beneath a small patch of dark honey hair.
I set my drink down. “What are you doing?”
Rachel grinned that predator grin of hers. “What do you think?”
“We can’t,” I said. “Please don’t. You have to go. Now.”
She took a step towards me. “Fuck me first. Then I’ll go.”
“Please, get dressed. Ellen will be home any minute.”
Rachel shook her head. “No, she won’t. She told me she’d be out till eleven at the earliest. We’ve got a whole two hours to do whatever we want Tom.”
Fuck. As much as I knew I should, I couldn’t tear my eyes off her. Rachel was perfection. Impossibly beautiful. I felt unsteady, my head light. I’d only taken a sip of my gin and tonic, but I felt drunk. “The kids.”
“They’re asleep. They never wake up,” Rachel said. “We’re all alone.”
“We can’t. Get dressed Rachel. You have to go.”
“I told you. Fuck me first.” Rachel twisted around to face away from me, to show herself to me. Her toned, taut back that tapered down to a tiny waist, then curved out into a round, thick, magnificent bottom.
Rachel looked over her shoulder at me. “I know you want to. And I’m ready for you.” She reached back and placed a hand on each flawless cheek of that wonderfully fleshy behind. She parted herself and arched her back to show me between. I saw the back of her pussy and above it a glittering glass jewel. The jewel I recognised as the one embedded in the base of Rachel’s butt plug.
“Fucking hell,” I said out loud without meaning to. I put a hand on the kitchen counter to steady myself. Blood was pounding in my ears, my hard cock was throbbing with each beat of my heart. “We can’t.”
Rachel turned and strode towards me. “We can. And we should.”
“I’m married. I have kids,” I said in a weak, strangled voice.
She stood before me and put a hand on my chest. “I told you Tom. You can. You deserve a bit of fun. You need some adventure on the side to keep yourself happy, to keep your marriage from getting stale.”
“I can’t.”
Rachel stood on her tiptoes and placed a hand against the side of my face. Her touch felt electric, like it had the last time. “You can.” She leaned in to me. “And are you sure your wife is out with her friends tonight? Do you really know where she is Tom?”
I pulled away from Rachel. I stepped back. I felt a sudden wave of disgust for her, I felt anger. “Ellen would never.”
Rachel stalked towards me again as I backed away from her. I met the corner of the kitchen counter though and I had nowhere to go. I was trapped. “You’re so naïve Tom. It’s actually quite charming.”
“You have to leave Rachel. Get out of my house.”
Rachel grabbed the front of my shirt and pressed her heavenly, naked body into me. She reached up to touch my face again and I knew I should stop her, that I should push her away from me and make her get dressed. But I didn’t. I froze. I could feel the shape of Rachel, her breasts against my chest, she was pushing her crotch into me. There was repulsion and wrath, but there was desire burning in me too. Her beautiful face was so close to mine, and she was naked, offering herself to me.
The smell of her skin and hair and her flowery perfume washed over me and it was all too much. She was overloading my senses, she was paralysing me.
“Fuck me,” Rachel whispered as she slid her hand around and into my hair at the back of my head. As she pulled my face down to hers.
To my disgrace, I didn’t stop her. I let Rachel kiss me. I kissed her back. Adrenaline and need surged through me at the touch of Rachel’s lips. It came on stronger as our mouths came open together, as I tasted her breath, as her tongue met mine. My arms curled around her before I knew what I was doing, my hands met Rachel’s naked body, her warm, soft skin.
She sighed as we kissed, the sound of her need hit me hard. Rachel moaned as I ran my hands down her back, as I grabbed hold of her arse, as I kneaded and lifted and spread her. She crushed her body into me, she rubbed her pussy against the front of my right thigh.