My friend Jessie is a chef in a neighborhood restaurant that was struggling. The food was good, but the owner was hesitant to spend money on advertising. So, I offered to help run their social media account in exchange for free dinners once or twice a week. I’d come in, hang out with Jessie, snap some photos, and hang out.
Jessie is married. Her husband is … kind of a dick. But it’s not entirely his fault. Jessie had an “almost affair” five years ago with her personal trainer. Her feelings at home were being neglected. And this trainer was, obviously, praising her constantly and cheering her on. Feelings were caught. Time was spent with the trainer outside of the gym. They went on morning jogs, afternoon hikes, even lunches.
When Jessie’s husband found out, his suspicions were raised. He asked, politely, if he needed to be worried about this trainer. Jessie’s stomach went into knots. She told him he didn’t need to worry. But secretly … he did need to worry. Realizing she was falling for her trainer, she started to distance herself from him. She apologized, but he understood.
What all of this told me was that Jessie was unhappy in her marriage for obvious reasons. And here, it was happening again with me. We were spending time together, talking about life, standing SUPER close to each other. The eye contact was deep and intense. Lips were often looked at. The tension was there.
“How are things now?” I asked one evening, leaning in. Putting my hand on hers.
She looked at me. Frowned a little and then shrugged. She looked to the left and pursed her lips. She exhaled heavily.
“Fuck it,” she whispered. She leaned in and kissed me in the kitchen. She held the kiss, her lips against mine. I put my hands on her hips. I held her. We stood, kissing until she pushed me away.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, ashamed.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said.
“I think you did the right thing.”
“Really? Why?” She asked.
“Because,” I said. “This is probably the push you need to leave. Is it right? No. Are there better ways to do it? Yes. But if this is how it works for you, then you need to do it to free yourself, Jessie. You’re not happy. And for whatever reason, you cannot leave this guy. But maybe it’s because you can’t pull the trigger and you want your husband to do it. And so, you kiss me. You fuck me. He finds out. He leaves you. And you don’t have to do the hard stuff.”
Jessie nodded. Her eyes welled up.
“I’m going to the walk in fridge now. You should follow me,” she said.
Jessie walked into the walk in fridge and closed the heavy door behind her. I stood, waiting. And then, I followed.
I opened the door and found Jessie, bent over some large Tupperware containers. Her pants were around her ankles. Her cunt was on display for me. Bald, tight, wet. I sighed and unzipped my pants, dropping them around my ankles. I stepped forward and put myself inside of her. She groaned.
“Just cum,” she whispered.
I pumped myself into her over and over. Her pussy was wet. Her lips wrapped around me as I pulled out and pushed myself back in.
“You’re so fucking tight,” I whispered.
She said nothing. I put my hands on her hips and squeezed, thrusting harder and harder until I came into her, emptying myself. She groaned with relief as I pulled my cum coated cock from her. She spun around, pulled her pants up and hugged me.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/byyyil/helping_her_out_of_a_dead_marriage_mf_cheat
Hot story. Hopefully not all the husbands in your tales are total dicks, at least for the sake of variety.