I really don’t know where to start with this but I have to get it off my chest or the stress will just go on. My husband is a military hardware contractor. We’ve been happily married for four years, and trust each other implicitly. His job entails a lot of travel, but that has never been a problem for me – until recently. We moved to Washington, D.C. a few months ago, where I don’t know a soul, and for some reason, making friends here is difficult. The one exception is Randy, a chef who works for one of the large hotels. He always has a ready smile when I meet him outside the condo, but until a couple weeks ago we’d never talked except in greeting. On evening I was carrying some book cartons in from the hallway as he passed. He just scooped up a couple and carried them inside, smiled, turned and walked out again. Wanting to thank him, I called out, and he paused.
“Thank you. Can I get you something? Coke, tea, a beer?”
“A coke would be good,” he said.
Randy was okay looking. Six-one, a little overweight, with that kind of square jaw that makes men look duller than they sometimes really are. I mean he wasn’t particularly handsome, at least for my taste, but he had a nice smile and I felt comfortable around him. Just another big dufus guy, like someone’s big brother. He told me about his job and said he’d just gotten off work and had brought home some Goulash he’d made at work, his specialty. He asked me if I’d care to share it with him. I agreed and he was back in five minutes, carrying a metal pot.
“I need to warm it up,” he said. “May I use your kitchen?”
“Sure. I’ll finish unloading these boxes while you do. Call me when it’s ready.”
I could smell it simmering as I worked. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the aroma made my mouth water. After a while, he stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Come and get it,” he called.
As we ate, I told him about my last home and my friends back there. It seemed like I’d known Randy for years. We were on our second bowl and the sun had already gone down, when I began to feel funny. Not ill, just loose, like I’d had a little too much to drink. Randy was a quiet type, mostly nodding and speaking in monosyllables, looking at me steadily as I talked. I suddenly felt too warm, removing my jacket. Under it, I wore a simple sun dress that left my shoulders bare, revealing a little cleavage. I almost giggled as I suddenly thought of the first night Stu and I had moved in here. All we’d had was a bed, and boy had we ever made use of it. It was almost as if I could see flashbacks of all the things we’d done that night. I was only vaguely aware that I had somehow removed the hair fastener and let my shoulder-length hair down. I saw that Randy was staring down at his bowl, but I saw a slight smile as he ate.
I remember that sensation of rubbing my thighs together, realizing my panties were sopping wet. I mumbled something, stood and somehow made it to the couch, where I sat with my hands folded on my knees, wondering what was happening. I had to fight back the urge to touch myself down there, where I was now on fire. Why was I suddenly so aroused? It wasn’t Randy. He didn’t do a thing for me. Besides, I’d never cheated on Stu and never would. So why was my vagina so wet? I don’t know how long I sat there like that, but when I looked up Randy stood right in front of me, completely nude. His erection stuck straight out and I could clearly see the large hole in the tip of it. He was larger than Stu, maybe eight or nine inches and very thick. He was also circumcised, where Stu wasn’t. I was completely unresisting as he took my arms and pulled me to my feet, guiding me around the couch and bending me over the back of it. It was like I was watching all of it on a video. During that short journey my dress had somehow disappeared. I was confused, realizing that I was panting with animal-like anticipation. None of it seemed real. I was the female ape, the bitch dog, waiting . . . Without warning, he grabbed the back of the couch with both hands and shoved his cock inside me. It should’ve hurt. It didn’t. In a minute or two I was even helping him. I could feel every nerve ending inside my vagina as his cock slid over them. I lifted onto my toes, offering myself to him as he pounded into me, unrelenting, almost viciously – moving my ass in circles, rotating in time with his thrusts. I placed my fingers over the backs of his knuckles, pushing backward, squirming and moaning. For some reason, I was so sensitive down there I felt every ridge, the crown of that wonderful cock as it left and then reentered my slick vagina. It felt like a hot poker – a fence post. From the corner of my half-closed eyes, I could see my left hand clutching the back of his knuckles, my wedding band gleaming under the lamp. It meant nothing to me at the moment. I was captive on his cock, like that bitch dog Stu and I saw in the park one day. Stu had said she couldn’t get away from the large male dog on her back because she was “knotted” on his doggie cock. I couldn’t get off either, even if I wasn’t knotted. All that mattered was the delicious feeling building inside my belly as his powerful heat entered me and then left my moist opening - desperately wanting it back inside me again. Without warning, I came like I’d never cum before, long and continuous, over and over, my pussy juice washing down my thighs. I’d heard about multiple orgasms, but had thought they were a myth. They aren’t. Rapid little pops inside the lining of my pussy followed by several awesome explosions, then more tiny pops making me cry out with each one. They left me quaking, struggling to breathe, my knees finally giving out as I sank to the floor. I wanted Randy to just keep fucking me forever, but my legs wouldn’t hold me up any longer.
After Stu and I had sex, my clit was usually tender for a while, but this time it wasn’t. I wanted more. I knew Randy had also cum, for he’d yelled out loudly when he did it, and I could feel it running down the insides of my thighs, mixing with my own juices. I shivered, thinking about it, reaching down to smear the fluid around on my legs. Usually, I hurried right out for a wet towel to wipe up Stu’s mess. Inexplicably, I loved this mess. As I sat there gulping for air, Randy suddenly wrapped his fingers in my hair, forcing my head around toward him. He shoved his slimy, half-hardened cock down my throat, holding it lodged there as it hardened. I gagged, struggled to breathe, then just turned completely around and grabbed the backs of his legs, pulling him deeper. I felt it grow even harder inside my mouth until it closed off the air flow to my throat - and it was the most exciting thing I’d ever felt. I didn’t just suck his big juicy cock. I made love to it; nibbling, licking, sucking. I held it up and sucked his hairy nuts, then licked under them, too. Hungrily, I tried to bite his elusive scrotum until he finally turned around, pulled open his ass cheeks and let me have what I hungered for. Licking, biting and sucking his hairy, puckered asshole. I tried forcing my tongue inside, heard him grunt appreciably as he pushed backward, spreading his cheeks even more. Warm, moist musty smelling, I loved it. I finally forced my tongue inside a little ways, loving the total degradation of the act. I’d never felt so nasty - never even thought of doing anything like this to anyone. It should’ve made me puke, not want it. But I did! I can’t explain my actions.
Randy finally turned back to me, grabbed my hair and shoved his cock down my working throat, literally face-fucking me for five minutes. It was like I had no will of my own. I passively let him use me, holding my mouth open, eyes closed, relishing the debasement. Every time I stopped breathing, he’d relent for a few seconds as I gulped air, and then he’d go right back at it again. I wanted it. I wanted to choke on it, wanted him to kill me with his wonderful cock. Finally, he grunted loudly and shot an awesome load into my mouth, thick, salty, intoxicating. I let it fill my mouth completely, swirling around my tongue, tasting, savoring - and then swallowing frantically as I took it all - something I’d never done to Stu. The depravity of what I was doing suddenly overwhelmed me as I came again - really hard - so hard it felt as if I was shaking to pieces.
Afterward, I slumped down, whimpering softly, totally spent, but still staring at Randy’s semi-hard cock. He picked me up and dumped me unceremoniously on the couch. I remember that I stared up at him defiantly, almost hating him. He just smiled and crawled between my open legs, slamming his cock into me again. I didn’t move for a while, but then cried out, clutched him between my legs, snaking my arms around his neck as I frantically searched for his tongue. That long night was a half-remembered blur for me as I slipped between a light coma and frantic, animalistic sex acts. It seemed I spent half the night sucking his cock as it fluctuated between hard and soft. At some point during the night I was on my stomach, Randy lying on top of me, probing my anus. There was a sharp pain as the bloated head of his cock entered my never-before-used asshole - but not too badly - and then I was shoving it up to him, suddenly wanting more of his cock inside me. I recall that he’d finally cum really hard, deep inside my bowels, and that it had somehow felt warm and comforting as I drifted off again. I don’t know how many times he fucked me, only that he used every one of my orifices several times, and that I sucked him until my jaws ached.
I awoke on the couch, the sun shining in my eyes. I was covered with a soft blanket from the hallway closet. My mouth was full of cotton and my head throbbed like I had a bad hang-over. Forcing myself to get up, I stumbled into the bathroom. During the short trip to the bathroom, I became aware that my vagina and anus felt sore, raw. So did my tits - my mouth too. I looked like hell in the mirror, like a hung-over street whore. I shuddered as I observed the crusty stuff on my face and in my hair. My thighs were covered with it, too. As I showered, I went over the previous evening in my mind. Randy had given me something. That was certain. He’d likely put it in the Goulash. He’d also eaten some of the doctored soup, and that was clear. No man could’ve done it so long and as many times as he had last night without some kind of artificial stimulant. I knew I couldn’t prove a thing. He’d just deny it, say I’d wanted it. After all, I’d asked him to bring the goulash over. The whole thing really pissed me off. Besides that, I felt extremely guilty for cheating on Stu. Even if it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t tell my husband about it. He’d end up confronting Randy and I’d just come off looking guilty. I’d have to make it up to him somehow.
To make matters worse, Stu called and said he had to stay another day, which was bad too. It just gave me more time to think about what I’d done. I drew a hot bubbly bath, got a glass of wine and settled into the bubbles. Stu was the only man I’d ever slept with. During the four years we’d been married, our sex had been pretty standard stuff; he’d get on top and bang away for a time, then we’d cuddle and go to sleep. Sometimes I climaxed with him, but mostly I didn’t, just enjoying the fact I’d made him happy. The one exception was the first night we’d moved in. No TV, no stereo, all we’d had was the mattress to occupy us for the evening. Maybe it was the excitement of the new place and new job, but after we’d had sex and cuddled, Stu suddenly rolled me over on my knees and entered me from behind. It was absolutely delicious, a first for us. Also a first was that I’d cum again, and it was really good. Twice in one evening, the only time I’d ever done that. By contrast, I must have cum a dozen times with Randy.
I lay back in the hot bath and closed my eyes, speculating about what Randy had put in the goulash, wondering if it would harm me. Probably not, or he wouldn’t have taken it too. I almost giggled, sipping the wine. Whatever it was, it’d sure worked. He had used me like his personal whore and I admitted that I’d loved it. Now, if I could only get Stu to act like that. In front of my closed eye-lids I could see Randy’s large cock inches from my face, and unconsciously licked my lips, parting them a little as I pretended to take that meaty thing inside my mouth again. No harm in a little fantasy. One hand found its way under the water to my engorged clit and I stroked it, seeing the images of Randy doing me in every possible way. In less than a minute, I cried out as I came, panting and gasping, harder than I’d ever done during sex with Stu. I hung onto the sides of the tub until I caught my breath, then lay back, closed my eyes and found my clit again. I spent a long time in that bath.
When Stu finally made it home, I had a great meal prepared and a wonderful night planned. I’d already determined I would give him the oral sex he’d always wanted, but that I’d often denied. Maybe I’d even let him do me anally. As I said, I felt really guilty. As it was, Stu was asleep almost as soon as he’d finished dinner. He slept for nearly twelve hours. Over the next two weeks, we had sex exactly three times - a forty yard dash each time, during which I climaxed only once. I never even had a chance to do any of those special things I had planned for him. Right after that, he left on business again and I was left to contemplate my last three weeks, alone. I also took a lot of hot baths. I wondered where I could get a penis shaped dildo, without running into everybody I knew while shopping for one. I giggled.
The following morning as I left the condo, I met Randy coming in. It was the first time I’d seen him since he’d taken advantage of me. He looked sheepish as he grinned and said, “Hi. Is Stu back?”
Strangely, I wasn’t all that angry with him. “He was. He left again last night.”
We stood silently for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say. Then I just blurted out, “That was great goulash. Got any more on it?”