*This is part 1, and though it was not my first indiscretion, it’s as good a place as any to start. About me: Tall, dark hair, skinny in my youth but less so these days, with a cock on the small side of average. Oh, and for better or worse, I am a serial cheater. These are my stories — all of them real in every way, except for the names. I’m not sure what I hope to gain from writing all this down; maybe it will be cathartic for me, and hopefully it will be hot for you. Anyway, here’s what happened.*
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Robin moved in with me during my third year of university. We had dated a year prior, but I ended things (after cheating on her with my roommate at the time, but that’s another story), and after a period of non-contact, we became friends. By that time, though, I had started dating Anne.
As you can imagine, Anne was less than impressed at the idea of me living with my ex-girlfriend, but I assured her that Robin and I were well and truly over. And honestly, I thought we *were* over, because we never really clicked as a couple. Robin was quite a bit older than me, worldly and patient. I was a self-centred little shithead. But holy god, I loved fucking her. Robin had a casual way about her sexuality that left me humming for hours — a fact I conveniently omitted when describing her to Anne.
But there was no hiding from my girlfriend the fact that Robin was an attractive woman. She was short and petite, with long, curly brown hair and big eyes and full lips. She had nice skin, smooth curves, and expressive hands, but the two things that really gave Robin her sexual power were her eyes and her voice. She spoke in a way that was strong and breathy all at once, and her eyes would look *through* me in a deeply arresting way. But after experiencing it regularly for a year, the effect had worn off. Or so I thought.
The first few months of living with Robin were pleasantly uneventful. She was a tidy and quiet roommate, and a decent cook as well. Things were downright normal, in fact, until one day when I came home from work to find Robin looking flushed. Before I could even ask what was up, she locked eyes with me and said, in an especially breathy tone, “Have you heard the upstairs neighbour fucking her boyfriend?”
I had not, and I told her so. “Well you can’t have been here when it happens,” she continued, “because it’s impossible to miss.” My heart fluttered a bit at this; I have always been a huge voyeur.
“Well, that’s very good to know,” I replied. “I guess I’ll have to hang out around here more often.”
We moved on to talking about other household things, though her words rattled around in my head well into the following day. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long to find out what all the fuss was about: that evening, as I was sitting on the couch in the living room, I heard it: our neighbour was having passionate sex. The sound of the bed, and her moans, reverberated through our whole apartment.
Robin burst out of her bedroom and ran toward me. “There it is! Can you hear it?” I smiled and quietly opened the front door. Our neighbour’s bedroom window was right above the entranceway to our unit, and as I peeked at it, I could see her bed rocking against the blinds. Not wanting to get caught, I retreated back inside, and found Robin listening in the hall.
“My heart is racing,” she said, and I instinctively pulled her toward me. But I didn’t kiss her. It didn’t even cross my mind. I just held on to her, as our hearts raced side by side. To this day, I kick myself for not kissing her in that moment. Based on what happened in the days to follow, I’m not sure what held me back. But soon the sound stopped, and we broke apart, and went on with our lives.
A week or two passed without incident. Then, one evening, someone was staying over at our apartment, and Robin gave them her room and slept on the pull-out couch in the living room. I can’t remember who was staying with us, and I also can’t remember how it happened, but in the middle of the night, I went out to the living room and ended up cuddling with Robin on the pull-out. It was innocuous enough at first, but it slowly escalated: first we were curled up, then slowly we repositioned until she was on top of me. I started rubbing her back — softly at first, then with more force, and her shirt started sliding up.
Robin was breathing a bit in my ear, and my cock was rock hard against her. She pushed her body against mine, and I finished the job — I pushed her shirt all the way up, exposing her perky tits. Her nipples were already rock hard, and I alternated between rolling them between my fingers and kneading her tits in my hands. She started to grind her pussy into me, and before long I knew that I would cum if she kept it up. So I slowed down and came to a stop, then pulled her shirt back down and returned to rubbing her back.
A few minutes later, I told her I had to go to bed, and started to slide out from under her. She caught my eye, as she had done so many times before, and said something that I’ve never forgotten. Jesus fuck, I have spilled so much cum over the years thinking about what she said that night:
“You can play with my titties any time you want.”
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/m0yzg0/my_infidelity_diaries_robin_makes_an_offer
Alright please continue…