Katia would never cheat on her husband, but secretly she wanted to.

She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. Its bright red numerals stared back at her: 11:00 p.m. Grant slept soundly beside her, lightly snoring. If she was going to get some sexual satisfaction, it looked like she would have to take matters into her own hands. Again.

She pulled out her laptop, plugged in her headphones, and opened her browser. It was still open on porn from the previous night. She really should be more careful. She clicked on the search bar, preternaturally conscious of Grant’s measured breathing. She began typing.

wife porn

A familiar tingle stirred between her legs. She looked at Grant, looked back at the screen, and arrowed the cursor back to the beginning of the search.

cheating wife porn

She had to close her eyes a moment and let the thrill of anticipation wash over her. This was wrong on so many levels. She’d never actually cheat on her husband, whom she loved dearly and would never want to hurt. This was her compromise. And it hurt nobody. She had to keep reminding herself that. Virtual infidelity was a victimless crime.

The cursor flashed between cheating and wife, taunting her. Her fingers hovered over the keys. They knew exactly what to do, they just needed permission.

With a crimson flush of shame, she closed her eyes and typed —

cheating slut wife porn

— hitting Enter quickly so she wouldn’t have to see those awful words.

First hit: “Slut Wife Gets Creamed While Husband Watches.”

So much for subtlety. Katia slid off her panties, and her hand found its way to her pussy.

On the screen, a woman about her age was bent over a table. She wore a short, flowered dress. A naked man held her arms behind her back, pulled up the dress, and entered her from behind. As he did so, Katia inserted her fingers into her pussy. She noticed the woman’s dress and how it moved. She saw the woman’s braided amber hair. She watched the change in the expression on the woman’s face as the man (whose face could not be seen) began fucking her faster and faster, causing the woman to squirm, even while her arms remained restrained.

As the couple’s movements quickened, so did Katia’s. Her pussy squelched. Her breath quickened.

The woman’s back arched. She moaned loudly. The man pulled out and came onto the back of her dress. She is going to have to get that cleaned, Katia thought.

The video was done, but Katia wasn’t, so she went to pull up another, still slowly fingering herself with one hand.

She was obsessed with the idea of being wanted by someone who was not already committed to her, who lusted after her based on desire untainted by obligation. Someone who would control her and treat her like the sexual object she longed to be.

As she watched the next video, she again visualized herself in the role of the cheating wife. It excited and aroused her. In her mind, she was the one lowering herself until her face was right at this stranger’s dick. She was the one unbuckling him, tracing his length with her tongue. When she first exposed it, it was thick but soft. He hardened quickly enough as she took him in her mouth. She rhythmically worked the man’s cock, sucking, licking, making him groan. She could almost taste his precum.

Meanwhile, in her marital bed, Katia’s pussy lips clit had become swollen, aching for release. She alternated between rubbing her clit and fingering her wet pussy while she watched.

What if it really was her? A real wife. A real stranger. A real cameraman filming her while she fucked a man who wasn’t her husband. What if they streamed it, put it on the Internet where anybody could tune in and see what a slut she was?

What if Grant was watching? He’d dial her cell and hear her phone going off on screen, and he’d know it was all real, that another man’s dick was plowing his cheating wife’s pussy. Would he be angry? Would he be in agony? Would he get hard and jerk himself off despite his humiliation because it was just too sexy to do anything else?

The man in the video gasped. His cock throbbed, shuddered, and then exploded warm cum over the woman’s body, thick and salty and sticky — coating her breasts, her face, and matting her hair.

It was the push Katia needed, and she came too, bucking against her hand, rubbing her clit harder and faster. She moaned with her release, almost forgetting that her husband was beside her.

Grant rolled over. Katia froze, her climaxing body on the edge of ecstasy. She stopped breathing but kept shaking as she roiled with the waves of heat and pleasure emanating outward for her pussy and wracking her body. She was sure Grant would open his eyes and catch her. He would see the cheating slut wife on her screen, and the game would be up.

But he never did. He returned to slumber, and she returned to her orgasm, rubbing out a few final contractions that left her legs wobbly and her nipples studded with goosebumps.

Being honest with herself, Katia would have to admit the infidelity fantasy had probably gone too far.

The following morning, Grant was up early and gone before Katia awoke — another client meeting that apparently had to be in person, and across the country.

As a freelancer, Katia’s office was the local Starbucks, and like most mornings, she found a comfortable corner table there and settled in, trying to get some work done. But her mind traveled back to the previous night, cheating with her computer, this computer, and Grant almost discovering her. Was that pussy smear on her trackpad?

She did her best to shake it off and walked to the counter to order a second grande cappuccino. She risked leaving her things to save her seat, slightly concerned that someone would steal something during the time she waited for her drink. She tried to keep her eyes on her possessions for as long as she could, and after getting her drink she quickly returned to her seat.

So, she was both surprised and concerned upon her return to find that her space had been invaded. Nothing was missing. Instead, something new had appeared. This was better than theft, but she found it disconcerting nonetheless.

There, tucked between the keyboard and screen of the laptop she had left closed on the small table, was a piece of paper. It gave her a start when she saw it, and her eyes darted about the room for the culprit. She found none.

She turned her attention to the paper. It was folded, thick, and creamy, parchment-like. She slowly unfolded the paper to find a handwritten note. No, not a note, a poem...

I hope you enjoyed this first part of this story. I posted a version of the poem here.

Also, you can find the entire story formatted all pretty-like with photos on the Medium publication Cream Shaboogie Cock. Medium allows three free stories each month so you should be able to read it for free.