Some of my favorite days are ones where I take myself out on a "date," get to have some time away from the house and husband to explore. This time, like many others, I had a necessary errand but also put aside some time to check out the city and enjoy the beautiful weather.

It was such a wonderful time - my errand, that I had been procrastinating for no other reason than my perfectionism, went off without a hitch. The weather was perfect, not too hot but sunny, and I checked out multiple bookstores and shops with the best iced coffee I had in a long time. The day felt complete, so it must have been the good mood I was in that made me do the following, usually out of character, and certainly risky endeavor.

I was taking the train back home, had found a seat in a not very busy car and had my book out. But I stopped reading, and kept looking up when he entered the train. Strangely, he reminded me of my husband - tall, blonde, cute. Just my type. But there was also something exciting and new about him, and he must have caught me sneaking glaces, or sensed that I really was just pretending to read, because at the next stop he found a way to get closer to me in the train.

It started so innocent. Asking me about my book, small talk about the weather, what I had been up to. i couldn't keep my eyes off of his arms, flexing as he steadied himself, the train swaying as he stood. The tension between us was palpable, I could tell his eyes kept looking over my body, and I loved the way he looked down at me. I could just imagine the thoughts he was having, and I kept getting overcome with the sort of panicked, tingly feeling of excitement of knowing what was possible.

He said, almost as an aside, that his stop was coming up. That his apartment was very close to the station. I knew he was testing the waters, and I loved it - even though it made me have a lump in my throat. Like I said, it must have been the day of bliss I just had that made me open to suggestion, but the words that came next out of my mouth even surprised me.

"So, are you going to show me this cool apartment of yours?"

We were nearly wordless the whole walk from the station to his place, what was there to say? We knew what was next, and maybe it was nerves, or just not wanting to ruin it, that kept us silent. He was right, his apartment was close. And once the door closed behind us, we began to kiss passionately. I loved the way he felt, lean and strong, different than my husband in subtle ways that seemed so fresh and unusual. The taste of his lips, the feeling of his grabbing my ass and pressing his growing cock into my hips. I was lost in moment after moment.

He had one of those entryway tables in the hallway by the door, and in one motion he lifted me onto it. With my skirt hiked up and around my stomach, he guided his hands back onto my hips, pulling my panties off with one motion. Kneeling before me, he buried his face in between my legs and began to lick my pussy in slow circles. I remember this moment so well, my hand in his hair, looking down at my panties on the floor of this stranger's foyer. It should have felt wrong, after all I was cheating for no reason at all with a COMPLETE stranger, minutes after meeting. But I was overcome with lust, felt in this moment nothing but the residual warmth of the day's sun on my face, and my need for this handsome stranger.

It wasn't long before I came from his tongue flicking over my clit, and my shaking made the whole table shake. Usually it takes me a while to recover, but I immediately wanted to please this man back. We went to his bedroom, where we both undressed completely, and he laid on his back on the bed. I knelt before him, and absolutely worshiped his cock with my mouth. He was smaller than my husband, but rock hard (which I love), and tasted sweet. It wasn't long before I tasted more and more precum, and could feel the familiar throbbing that he was close.

Not knowing if he was going to be a one shot and done guy, and knowing I needed his cock inside me, I resisted all temptation to have his cum right then and there, so I moved up to straddle his hips, and guided him inside me.

The next part is almost blurry, like his dick was a drug to me. I remember snippets, of my hands on his chest as I grinded him deeper, of how we switched to doggy and I felt his strong hands grip my hips and press himself into me. He kept telling me how hot I was, how good it felt, which made me smile and want to give him even more. It became harder, faster, and then ended tender, with him missionary sliding slowly in and out, clearly not wanting to cum yet and enjoying me. He gave two or three final long strokes, before pulling out and I felt the warm cum across my stomach and breasts, even hitting the side of my neck.

And then, looking at his face, now nothing but unfamiliar, I was suddenly racked with embarrassment and guilt. How could I do this, what a stupid idea to fuck this absolute stranger, and cheat on my husband? I got out of there as fast as I could, didn't ask for his number, finding my way back to the train station for the ride of shame home. I felt his dried cum under my shirt, and that familiar feeling of tingly soreness from being fucked.