It’s sure to bring an absolute shitstorm into my life. Yours too, probably. But if I had it to do over again, I don’t think I’d even hesitate. And I don’t think you would, either.
For as long as I’ve known you, you haven’t had a serious relationship. Not that you don’t want one. But the right guy never came along, I guess. And me… Well, let’s just say my marriage didn’t turn out to be the happily-ever-after I hoped for. It’s not awful, but definitely not everything I hoped for. To make it simple, a chronic dead bedroom made it all too easy for me to let things take this course. And to top it all off, we both wanted children. We didn’t talk about it much, but there was enough to know. And every so often an ambiguous comment and a look hinted that maybe we were thinking a little more than we said. Especially as you hit thirty. It didn’t make much of an outward difference, at least that I could see, but I could tell it was on your mind.
We work almost completely opposite schedules, but at the same place. And you know seeing you come in is the highlight of my day. I don’t follow you around like a puppy, not that I don’t want to. But I make sure to check in with you, see how you are. Share the night’s most interesting or outrageous stories.
About a year back, I let you know about the feelings I’d developed for you. Something more than what a friend should feel. You said you couldn’t return those feelings. But you didn’t mind my silly gestures of affection, and eventually you started to make a couple of your own. We even warmed up to flirting in front of other people—it only worked because everyone knew we weren’t taking it seriously.
They thought.
There was a close call with your sister and even though everything ended up okay, it shook you up. While we chatted before I left in the morning, everyone else went inside, but you lingered. Before I knew what was happening, you were wrapping your arms around me, burying your face against my chest. You just… Wouldn’t let go. I held you for a long time, though it still felt too short. But before you pulled away, you lifted your face and kissed me, hard. I was too shocked to kiss you back, and before I could enjoy it, you were gone.
You were my secret, and I was yours, but both of us knew how many things stood in our way. Maybe most important was the question of whether we should even try. The only answer I could come up with was ‘no’, but it felt like we were going to anyway, sooner or later. Because we just… Couldn’t stay away completely.
It wasn’t every day. Or even every week. But once in a while, seemingly out of the blue, you’d text me “I miss you”. Sometimes I’d call and we’d talk for a bit, mostly just to hear the other’s voice. Sometimes I would text you back, tell you something like how much I wanted you in bed next to me. And you’d say you wanted to be there too. I’m not sure why we couldn’t say things like that aloud. Maybe we were just working up to it.
It was all suspicious, if anybody looked at it. Sure, we never said the “L” word. And we never talked about anything lewd. But those meaningless lines wouldn’t fool anybody about what we were doing.
So maybe it’s no surprise that we crossed all the lines.
There was a plan for Halloween in place for a few months ahead of time, and all our friends were looking forward to it. Well, with one exception. The one I lived with. I wasn’t the biggest fan of bars, but she wouldn’t go into one on a bet. For you, though, I’d do a lot of things I wasn’t otherwise happy about. Honestly, I was just hoping for a dance with you.
We all dressed up roaring twenties-style, like gangsters and molls, G-Men and flappers. Suits and porkpie hats for the guys, classy dresses for you and the other girls. You… Were **so** fucking sexy. You found a green and black flapper dress that ended a little above your knees. Fingerless black mesh gloves and wedge heels that you weren’t really used to, but holy crap did they make your butt look nice. Nicer than usual. Short hair is usually the ‘flapper’ look, but you left your dark blonde locks loose, just curled in ringlets. You were gorgeous. I wasn’t real impressed with my own outfit, but you seemed to like the black shirt and red tie. “You look all sinister and suave,” was what you told me. What guy doesn’t absolutely love to be complimented by a girl he’s crushing on?
The evening went about like I’d expected. We found a place that was doing karaoke, and one by one we went up—with the occasional duet. You were flushed, but you went for it anyway, singing some Michael Jackson song from the eighties. If somebody put a gun to my head, I’d have to say you went off key in a few places, but you probably knew that, and didn’t care. Neither did I. I wanted to carry you off that stage and to your bed as soon as you were done. But not long after, it was my turn. Instead of one of my usual stand-by songs, I went for something a little out of my range: “No One Like You”. I couldn’t keep my eyes on you the whole time, but I saw you watching me.
After that, we got our dance together. By then I couldn’t hide how worked up I’d gotten, but I didn’t want to pass up the chance. So, when I put my hands on your waist and you wrapped yours around my shoulders, I felt you press up against me. Your body was warmer even than the air around us, and you pushed against my erection with a little twinkle in your eyes. “Hello, there,” you said with a smirk. While we danced, you took every opportunity to tease me, rubbing just a little when you got an excuse to get close. But I got you back when I dipped my hand to your ass and squeezed. You didn’t tell me to stop, so… I just didn’t take it away. But eventually I had to let you go. It was fantastic while it lasted, but that was about all we could ever manage.
Next time I saw you with a drink, though, you were pounding back a shot, though I couldn’t hear why. And not long after, you started feeling sick—at least, that was what you said. Then you started talking about finding a cab or Uber home, and we knew you were serious, so I just offered to take you back. I’d hardly had anything, and I never was much of a drinker. I know my limits, though, and I was well inside them. So we left together, and I upgraded my hopes for maybe a drunken kiss goodnight. If you were feeling really frisky and the opportunity popped up, you might pull your dress down and let me see your tits. **That** would really be something.
But you had something else in mind. You said on the way back that you’d started feeling better, but still wanted to go home. Okay by me, I was about done with the noise and crowd anyway. Then when we pulled up in front of your place, you hesitated to get out, asking if I wanted to walk you to the door. You know I’ll do just about anything you ask, and moreover, take any chance to spend a little more time with you, so I was too happy to do it.
At the door, you didn’t kiss me. But you were thinking about something. I started to go once or twice, but you asked me to wait a little longer, and finally you just opened the door. I was about to leave for real, but you stepped inside and stood to one side of the door. “If you’re comin’ in, hurry up before the cats get out,” was all you had to say. You didn’t have to tell me twice, I was inside your apartment before I knew I’d even taken my first step. You locked the door and just said “Come on.” I followed you, wondering if I was dreaming, thinking the night was too good to be true.
We went into your bedroom and you closed the door. *Then* you kissed me. Pulling me close, brushing my jacket off and working my tie loose. I pushed your dress down while you kicked off your shoes. We didn’t really talk, but we both knew what we wanted. I should have left when you first opened your door, but it was too late now. Our hands were all over each other. I was greedy to feel you everywhere because I knew I might never get this chance again.
Then your dress was on the floor and I was kneeling in front of you while you laid on the edge of your bed. Tasting you, fingering you, playing with your soft muff. God, you were gorgeous everywhere. You were so wet already, but I had to dive in. I didn’t want to forget any of this. Finally, you told me to get up next to you, and I did. Right away, you held me tight, your fingernails digging into my back, your body pressed against me while we kissed, openly, hungrily, shamelessly.
And then there was noise. The door opening. “Shit,” you grumbled. Your roommate. “Stay quiet,” you told me.
We laid there, silent in the near-dark, my right hand on your tit, squeezing lightly, rubbing at your nipple while I nuzzled your neck to keep you warmed up. You’d been living with the same guy for a few years now and were working on your own place… But you didn’t have it lined up quite yet. Even though you were living with a guy, you’d known him since you were both kids—he was just a step away from being a brother. We could hear him wandering around, talking to your cats. “Come on…”
Finally, there was a gentle knock at your door. “Everything okay? I thought you had your thing tonight?”
“You *are* gonna have a thing tonight,” I whispered in your ear.
You just smacked my shoulder and glared at me. “Yeah, I just came home, wasn’t feeling too good, I’m going to try and sleep it off.”
Thankfully, your excuse discouraged him from any further conversation and he said goodnight. We waited a little longer and slowly worked into kissing again. Before long, there was gentle rock music coming from the other room. We knew we still had to be quiet, but we were pretty much home free.
I’m not quite sure how or when I found my way inside you, but when I realized I could feel your warmth all around me, I had to try one last time to drag some sense into the evening. “We should stop while we still can.”
“So get up. I won’t stop you.” We were still kissing: lips, neck, cheeks, forehead, shoulders. Sometimes I’d lean down to get a taste of your nipples. You looked like a dream lying there in the dim light underneath me. Needless to say I didn’t get up. I hadn’t felt this good in years.
And soon I’d started moving. Slow and easy at first, listening to your quiet whimpering while we kept kissing, hands gliding over each other’s skin. You were clutching around me, tight and wet and eager. I could feel how much you needed this too. Our breath got shallower. The bed started creaking. I felt your legs lift up and wrap around my hips. You started whispering “Yes, yes… Don’t stop, please…”
It was so hard to hold back, for the sake of being quiet, and because I wanted to stretch this as long as I could manage. I slowed to a stop, holding myself up above you while you looked up at me through those rich brown eyes. Your cheeks and chest were flushed a pretty pink, your lips parted as you gently panted for breath. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to pull out,” I said.
“I don’t want you to.”
And I kissed you again, *hard*, wrapping both arms tight around you as I laid in again, shoving my hips forward, burying myself in your slick snatch. We both knew how this was going to end and we’d given up trying to resist. When I pulled away, I just held myself up, looking down into your face while I rocked roughly against you. Both of us kept making soft grunts or moans of effort and pleasure, and I knew it wouldn’t be long. You just nodded while you held me, as if to reinforce what we both wanted.
And then you leaned up to brush your lips against my ear. You crooned my name and said “Give me a baby. Come on, honey, come inside me.”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. Pushing into you, I felt you clutch tight around me, staring down at your pretty, flushed face, watching what feeling me was doing to you, listening to your voice. I was delirious. It was everything I wanted, everything I never dared hope for. I knew it might never happen again, but for this moment, everything was right.
You and me, making a baby.
And when it happened… I felt like I wanted the sweet moment to last the rest of my life. There was a surge of heat as I throbbed, burying myself deep. I heard you moan and your legs squeeze around me. And I was giving you everything, pouring myself into you, coming in your deliciously warm pussy. You smiled and kissed me deep and long and slow.
We panted, slowly catching our breath, and I pulled away to get another look at you, thinking about how you’re going to be the mother of my child. As if you were reading my mind, you said “We… Should talk about what happens now.” I nodded, but neither of us felt much like talking for the moment.
Which brings us back to now, more or less. We’ve carved out some time here and there to spend together. Watching movies or talking, and either has the chance to end up going to your bedroom, though we don’t always go that far. We still haven’t used any protection, and you never let me pull out. Not that I try. So I guess we’re having an affair.
You just sent me a picture of a pregnancy test with a definite positive. So now I’m thinking about how to break the news. I want to be part of our baby’s life, even if we’re not exactly a traditional couple. And we’ve both hinted that we wouldn’t mind more, though we haven’t exactly had a serious discussion about it.
In the meantime, for as long as we keep sneaking away together, at least I can keep finishing inside you. It’s not as if you can get *more* pregnant. Both of us are getting used to finishing that way and I can tell I get antsy if we haven’t been together for a week or so. You do, too.
I’m pretty sure my wife knows **something** is up, but I don’t think she’s got the faintest idea what it is. One thing’s safe to say about the near future: I won’t be bored anytime soon.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/haniil/honest_work_mfcheatingpreg