I fuck with my lover and my husband at the same time

I am a married woman, but twice a week, my lover visits me for a moment of debauchery. Until one day, right in the middle of a cunnilingus, my husband pushes the door... and there I am, fucking with my lover and my husband at the same time!

The door slams, the steps on the stairs, the engine starting, the gravel crunching under the tires and the silence. The silence as a signal: my three hours of adultery can begin. Three little hours, twice a week. Tuesday and Thursday, between 2:30 p.m. and 5:30 p.m. Never before, never after, never on weekends or holidays. I have instituted a strict discipline to my duplicity to allow it to last. Not that I revel in lying or the status of an unfaithful woman, but it is the source of so much pleasure that I can't imagine ending it. Not for now. 

The rituals to receive my lover

For now, my husband's car has disappeared around the corner, it's time to prepare to receive my lover. First, a message to warn him. Then, a shower that will leave a sweet scent on my skin. Then the sheets, always change the sheets, before and after. Finally, I get dressed. I undress, rather. A simple bodysuit of spidery lace. The least amount of fabric possible, the skin accessible to all desires. There, a fraction of a second before the big hand reaches VI, the symphony of sounds plays in reverse, in the order that excites me the most. The gravel, the engine, the steps, three knocks on the door. He doesn't wait for me to come open, he loves the surprise. Finding me on the bed, languid, on the sofa, legs spread, elbows on the kitchen counter, back arched and buttocks taut. Before approaching, he savors me with his gaze. Covetousness makes his brown eyes sparkle. He gets rid of some of his things. Keys, phone, jewelry, anything that could be forgotten, becoming evidence of his presence. He always puts them in the same place, in the center of the table. While he builds this little pile of pieces of himself, I start to caress myself without haste. I brush my nipples through the lace, let a hand linger between my thighs. And finally, he is ready, almost naked. He knows that I like to remove the last piece of fabric myself and keeps his fitted boxers on. Then, our bodies find each other. 

Today on the bed, in the penumbra of the drawn curtains to avoid prying eyes. He kisses me with ardor, his tongue wraps around mine then comes out to lick my lips. He kisses me as if he is going to devour me and the heat amplifies in my lower abdomen. At the end of a kiss, he grabs me by the hips and makes me tilt on him. His muscular legs wrap around mine, preventing me from moving. I am pinned against his chest, my pubis pressed against his, with just the necessary space for his hand to reach my clitoris. He undoes the buttons of my bodysuit and starts to move his fingers back and forth. I arch with pleasure, he whispers "oh no, you're going to stay still" and grabs a wrist which he brings up behind my back. Impossible to move, only his fingers have the freedom to act. He caresses my clitoris, stops to slide two fingers into my vagina, resumes the small circles on my increasingly sensitive button. The unpredictable rhythm makes me lose my mind, I moan without restraint. Against my belly, I feel the tip of his penis become stiff and swollen, I beg him to penetrate me. Without releasing me from his grip, he maneuvers to slide the tip of his glans into my soaked pussy: "is this what you want?" I stifle myself with disjointed "yes" and he kisses me smiling: "first, you're going to come." His cock disappears, his fingers resume their dance and I feel that yes, I am going to come now. My whole body trembles and I bury my head in his neck to scream. He doesn't give me time to catch my breath and turns me over again, this time on all fours. I almost come a second time when he penetrates me so sensitive is my vulva, overwhelmed by the surge of satisfaction. Always so sure of himself, he grabs my hips and gives me big thrusts, the ones I prefer. The sheet slips under my fingers, my head hits the wall but I don't care, I only feel the voluptuousness of his dick sinking deeper and deeper, stronger and stronger, I only hear his moans and his compliments, the slapping of our skins against each other. As he slows down the pace, I slip a hand between my legs to grab his balls and squeeze them between my fingers. He breathes and laments: "oh fuck, you're going to make me come." I beg him to come on my ass and play with his hard balls. He fucks me a little more and, in a stifled roll, pulls out to ejaculate on my skin. I come again feeling his hot cum squirt on my taut ass. He collapses on me and smiles: "you're incredible." We stay there for a few minutes, catching our breath, aware that the recreation is over and that the clock will catch up with us. And with a last kiss, we get moving. He just has enough time to take a shower and put the place back in order. Under the water, he soaps my ass, lets his sperm disappear down the drain. He tells me everything he will do to me, how he will make me come. It's the agreed dialogue, it amuses me a lot. He never veers into sentimentality: he has understood the rules. He disappears not without nibbling my nipples "to wait." The door, the steps, the engine, the gravel, the silence. I hurriedly change the sheets and towels, I vacuum and check that nothing is lying around. Everything is in order, no trace of our sex debauchery. And me, well fucked, well washed, well appeased, I feel happy.

You are surely telling yourself that I am an awful person. You may be right. Yet, I love my husband. We have been together for a long time and he has always lived up to my expectations; he is funny, intelligent and quick-witted, he is curious and warm, not to mention his handsome face and cute little ass. Only, I rarely have the opportunity to touch that little ass. It's as if he were disembodied, indifferent to his own body and mine. He hugs me and kisses me, yes, but without lust, without desire. Whether I make myself saucy, languid, delicate, tender or naughty, he remains apathetic. Before cheating on him, I first counted. In a locked note on my phone, I listed the number of days without sex and my aborted attempts. When the 200-day mark without sex was crossed, I decided to take a lover. And since then, I am happy, it's as simple as that. 

When the machine falters and my husband discovers the cheating

On Thursday, my lover came back. I was waiting for him on the sofa, legs spread, without panties. He immediately buried his face between my thighs and consumed me. His fingers joined his tongue, taking advantage of the cyprine that was dripping to insert themselves everywhere. Two in my pussy, his thumb in my ass, his tongue on my clitoris, floods of voluptuousness were carrying me away when I heard a signal that should not have happened, not now. The creaking of the last step of the stairs, the one just in front of the entrance. I didn't have time to react before the door opened. My husband. 

My husband, motionless, his hand frozen on the doorknob. And me, on the sofa, legs spread, a stranger feasting in the middle. I am petrified, unable to speak or move. It is he who acts. While my lover continues his labor, unaware of what is happening behind his back, my husband puts a finger to his lips: "shh." He puts his things on the table, undresses in silence, keeps only his boxers - as my lover does, which suddenly excites me enormously. He approaches us and grabs me violently by the hair, tilts my head back. Between my thighs, the movement stops, my lover has noticed that we are now three and has a movement of recoil. "Continue," orders my husband without raising his voice and the other executes with renewed vigor. My husband pulls a little more on my hair, takes my chin and looks me in the eyes. There is something that I haven't seen in an eternity, that pierces me: excitement. He kisses me without gentleness then slaps me. I barely have time to breathe before he removes his boxers and settles on me, pushes his sex into my mouth. I had forgotten how big his dick was and I stifle myself on it before managing to swallow it almost entirely. My husband does not take his eyes off me, forces me to lift my head. "Now, you're going to get on your knees." He is the one leading the dance and I execute, subjugated. "You, you're going to fuck her in the ass," he addresses my lover. The latter is a little hesitant but very excited, judging by his hard-on. "And you, you're going to continue sucking me while looking me in the eyes." I take his dick back in my mouth, it seems even bigger to me. 

My husband firmly grabs my skull and pushes, my lips crush against his pubis. Behind, I feel the glans of my lover against my anus trying to insert itself without succeeding. He puts a finger back in, then two, then three, then his cock. After a little resistance, it sinks into my ass and a sweet warmth floods my whole body. It's the first time he fucks me in the ass and I feel that he is struggling to contain his euphoria, he is panting, digging his nails into my flesh. My husband accelerates the pace, his dick fills my whole mouth when he orders me "and now the balls." It seems impossible to me, there is no more room, but I want to succeed: I grab his testicles to bring them up and after a few attempts, they enter in turn. My drool flows, I have tears in my eyes: I am fucking with my lover and my husband at the same time and I feel that we are going to have an extraordinary orgasm. My lover is the first to crack, he lets out a cry and unloads everything in my ass. The spasms of his cock give me discharges of pleasure, I can't hold back: I come in turn, my moans are stifled against my husband's cock who ejaculates at the back of my throat. I choke and spit out half of his cum through my nose. And there, with my burning ass, my face full of sperm, between my panting lover and my breathless husband, I tell myself that my two afternoons a week are going to become even more interesting.