[MF] [Cheating] I wasn’t going to London (part 4)

**Previously:** I travelled to Sicily for three days of, basically, sex with a friend from Snapchat – Sophie. I lied to my girlfriend about where I was going, but my various attempts at cover failed, and she knows where I’ve been – if not who I was with. I’ve returned home to find her with her bags packed, having said I’d tell her the truth…

**TL;WTS?** This is a very story heavy part, given the circumstances. But you will find what you seek three dividers away (that’s including the one right below here).
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I entered the front room and – more out of hope than expectation – held my arms out for a hug. My girlfriend Lori just stared at me, unmoved. Her eyes shifted to a seat nearby, as if instructing me to take it. I sat, and braced myself for an awkward evening. Lori opened the conversation.

“Who was she, Nate?”

“We haven’t had sex for two months. You haven’t shown any interest in pleasuring me for longer. I’m sorry. I cra…”

“*Who was she, Nate?*”

Rather than sounding angry, her voice was pleading. Pleading me to name the person who, it seemed, would be the end of this relationship. My eyes met hers, and I could see tears welling in the lids.

“Her name was Sophie. You don’t know her and I doubt you ever will. We met on Snapchat, and she showed more interest in me in the last five weeks than you have shown in the last ten years.”

While I’m sure Lori’s suspicion was that there might be another girl involved in my deception, this was the first time she’d had it officially confirmed. Her sad eyes widened, and her response was hesitant. “So you flew all the way to Italy just to… what… sleep with her?”

I bowed my head. In spite of everything I couldn’t look her in the eye as I confirmed what I believed was her worst fear. Having sworn I could never cheat on anyone, and that I would treat any girl dumb enough to sleep with me like a princess, I’d broken that vow…

“Yes.”

Now her tone switched. The pleading, or any hint of sadness disappeared and anger immediately rose to take their place.

“You *fucking bastard*! Twelve years we’ve been together, twelve fucking years, and this is what you do? You cheat on me? With some slut on Snapchat who’s probably flown someone else in for the rest of her trip?”

My growing feelings for Sophie were jolted awake by hearing her described as a slut and, from somewhere, I found a desire to defend her.

“Don’t you dare call her a fucking slut. She’s confident, she knows what she wants, and she obviously knows how to get it otherwise I wouldn’t have gone out there, would I? If you wanted me half as much as she did then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Fuck you.”

Lori was, somewhat understandably, angered further by this turn of events.

“*You’re taking her fucking side?* Some girl you’ve known for five weeks over your girlfriend of twelve years? *Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?*”

The gloves were off. This dialogue wasn’t proceeding the way I’d expected. I already felt like forcing the issue. I went on the offensive.

“Shut the fuck up, Lori. It’s September, and do you know how many times we’ve had sex this year? Six. Six times in nine months. I’ve gone down on you every fucking time and how many times did I get it back? One. We haven’t had sex in two months because you’re always fucking tired, or can’t be bothered, or you’d rather watch some fucking shit on television that finished *six years ago*. Too tired to have sex but not too tired to binge watch some shitty teen drama from two thousand and whatever that didn’t even get a second series. Fuck. You.”

“What do you expect when you’re always so fucking miserable?” Lori was right. Stresses everywhere in my life made it hard to smile. I almost felt like sex was my only stress relief at this point – or porn and wanking when I was inevitably shot down.

“How can I be fucking cheerful when my girlfriend never wants to fuck?! I’ve got job problems, I’ve got money problems, I come home, and my ‘girlfriend’” – air quotes – “isn’t fucking interested in my day, or me, or fucking anything.” I was mimicking her now. “Oh I’ve had such a hard day doing nothing. I just want to go to bed and watch Netflix and no chill.”

I was so busy venting I hadn’t noticed Lori stand up. As my mockery of her ended, an open palm connected hard and loud with my right cheek. I recoiled from the force of the blow. Lori sat back down, while I rubbed the stinging cheek with my left hand and tried to work out whether I deserved it.

“So what’s so good about her that you had to fly all that way just to fuck her?” My borderline prudish girlfriend had, perhaps twice in our relationship, used the phrase “fuck” to refer to sex. Once mockingly, and once when everything clicked and she began to breathlessly urge “fuck me…” as I did precisely that. Hearing it in this context came as quite a shock.

“She did everything you wouldn’t. Everything you still won’t.”

“Tell me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to *tell* you what Sophie and I have spent the last three days doing?”

She shrugged. “Might as well know what was worth flying thousands of miles and destroying our relationship for.”

I took a deep breath, and then began to detail, somewhat graphically, exactly what happened after I got out of her car on the Monday to go to “London”.

How, within minutes of arriving, my cock was in Sophie’s mouth. How, minutes later, I unloaded into her throat. Within 30 minutes of us meeting, she’d swallowed my cum – something it took me 8 years to get Lori to even attempt, a point I couldn’t help but make. I expected a reaction, but none came.

I moved the story on to how I’d immediately pushed her back onto the bed to return the favour. How I made her cum over and over again, just like I could always do for Lori. I told Lori that, after I finished eating her out, I climbed on top and fucked her until I came inside her.

I glanced up at Lori, and her erect nipples were poking through her nightwear. I realised two things at this point – one, she wasn’t wearing a bra and two… she was getting turned on hearing this?!

I didn’t mention what I could see as I continued into day two, and told Lori – as requested – about how Sophie and I fucked on the balcony after dinner that evening, and that she swallowed my load for the second time in two days. Again I made the point to Lori that this was already more than she’d managed in our entire relationship, despite my efforts to make the idea “comfortable” for her.

As I finished my recanting of day two I looked up and, even in what little light we had, I could see Lori’s cheeks redden. Her nipples were very, very prominent and now she was flushed. Emotionally she probably didn’t like what she was hearing – but some part of her was definitely aroused by my story.

Lori sat, breathing slowly, as I rattled straight into day three, where I was woken with a blowjob, and ended up fucking Sophie up the ass. Upon hearing this, Lori had to interrupt.

“You fucked her up the ass?”

“I *came* in her ass.”

Mockingly, Lori asked “What disease am I going to get now, then?”

“Since we’re never likely to fuck again, I’d say you’ll be fine.”

“Whatever. Did you and your little fucktoy do anything else while you were fucking lying to me?”

“Yep”, and I proceeded on to the shower sex, and my going away present – a third blowjob and a third swallowed load.

Lori took a few seconds to process everything she’d heard, and sighed. “That it?” I couldn’t help but get one final dig in.

“In summary”, I started, “I came as many times with her in the last three days as I have with you all year. She’s swallowed more of my cum in the last three days than you have in *twelve* years. And she was happy to let me fuck her up the ass. Were you?”

*slap*… my left cheek, this time. Lori lowered her face until it was inches from mine. Her voice was now an angry growl.

“I hope the slut was worth it. You can sleep down here. When you wake up, I won’t be here. It’s over. Go have your little slut. She’s welcome to you. I hope the trip doesn’t cause you any money problems. You’ve got enough of those… you broke, miserable sad little man.”

I ground my teeth and stared straight back into her eyes. Only one of us had any tears, and it wasn’t me. I had one final thing to say.

“She was worth every fucking penny. I can’t wait to tell her we’re finished. Go to fucking bed. Get the fuck out. I wouldn’t notice any difference anyway.”

Lori looked like she wanted to slap me again, but she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, and upstairs to bed. I caught one final glance down her top as she leaned in front of me. Definitely no bra. Definitely hard nipples. I wondered what she might do when she got upstairs, before remembering that she “never masturbates”.

I pulled a blanket we kept downstairs over me, fidgeted on the couch until I was something approaching comfortable, and tried to sleep.
___
Half an hour had passed and I was already sick to death of peeling my exposed skin off the leather every time I turned over, so I went upstairs to get some pyjamas from the wardrobe. As I entered our bedroom, I chanced a glance at the bed where Lori was sleeping, alone. I could see the covers moving, and imagined she was having trouble sleeping; tossing, turning and having a rough night after the argument.

I changed into my pyjamas, and went back downstairs.

*Back in the bedroom, Lori wasn’t trying to sleep. Against her better judgement, the stories she’d heard downstairs had aroused her beyond resistance, and she was trying to masturbate. Her hand rubbed over her clit and dipped in and out of her damp pussy – slower, once she’d heard Nathan enter the room – but it just wasn’t working. She really didn’t masturbate much, and she couldn’t settle on a technique. Her frustration grew until she could scream, and she knew she had to do something about it.*
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I was back on the couch and half asleep when I felt a hand reach under the blanket. I froze as the hand worked it’s way slowly up my leg, reaching the waistband of my PJ bottoms. I adjusted my eyes to the darkness, and saw Lori kneeling in front of the couch. Her hand found my cock and began to stroke it.

Confused, I made no attempt to stop her. Her stroking began to do the trick as my erection grew and sprang free of my pyjamas. She glanced up at me and we made the briefest of eye contact. Brief enough for me to know there was no love in her eyes, just pure need. I realised the cover movements upstairs had been her trying to deal with a “problem” herself and she had failed, and now I was to be the instrument of her relief.

Lori stood up, pulling off her nightie, leaving her naked in front of me for the first time in a long while. She was – always has been – curvy, but I’ve never cared. I would always tell her I liked to have something to get hold of. She climbed onto the couch, and with some difficulty squeezed a leg into the gap between me and the back. She had nowhere to put her other leg.

“Move.”

Her command was aggressive. This wasn’t going to be lovemaking, this was going to be raw fulfilment of a need. I complied, and moved onto the floor. She straddled me easier now, and sank her already wet pussy onto my cock. She humped up and down, slowly at first, but gradually her speed built up.

I looked at her face. Her eyes were closed and her lips pursed in concentration as she bounced up and down on me. I tried to ask her what was going on but any attempt I made to speak was ignored. This wasn’t lovemaking now. This was verging on a hatefuck. I was her living sextoy, being used to get herself off. In spite of everything, I found myself giving in to this submission, and enjoying the feeling of being used. In all the time we had spent together she had never taken control like this, never needed me so desperately – more nights like this could’ve stopped me from getting on that plane three days ago.

As she began to paw roughly at her breasts – a sign that her climax was beginning to approach – I wondered what would happen when this was over. Would I get to cum inside her as I had hundreds of times before? Or would she simply climb off when she was satisfied, leaving me to deal with my own unfinished business?

Her breath began to come in shorter and shorter gasps. I began to feel the familiar tightening of an orgasm. As Lori came, her warm, wet cunt squeezed me close to breaking point. She threw her head back and simply repeated “yes” over and over, gasping, moaning as the ride on her submissive little fucktoy – me – had the desired effect.

As she came down from the orgasm she kept riding – slower, now, so as to delay any second coming (if you will please pardon the pun). I realised that despite her satisfaction she wasn’t finished with me. There was one more thing she wanted to feel. She loved the feeling of cum inside her, so much so she had the implant put in so we wouldn’t have to worry about pills or condoms. Many a happy night was spent together in our relationship filling her fill of warm, sticky seed without care for the consequences.

Still she refused to speak to me as her lips gripped tightly at my cock and drew it towards the end. Still she refused to make eye contact as her ass bounced up and down on my legs. As the first shot fired into her, she sat as deep as she could and simply stopped moving. My cock pulsed and twitched as cum fired from the head deep into her pussy. I moaned and grunted as I released inside her.

My orgasm finished. Lori stood up, and I felt warm drops leak from her pussy and land back on me. Without any sort of acknowledgement of me, or what we’d done, she picked up her nightie, turned, left the room and went back upstairs to bed. I cleaned myself up and returned to the couch, attempting to sleep while simultaneously processing what had just happened.
___
It took a long time, but I was finally able to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, the bag was gone. I hoped, over-optimistically, that it had been unpacked again, but to no avail.

Lori had already left.

*To be continued…*

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/73oz8r/mf_cheating_i_wasnt_going_to_london_part_4