6 comments/ 7544 views/ 0 favorites Michael's Way By: Sattvica 2001 The summer of that year had been warm and lengthy, my husband and I lived in a small one-story condominium on an elevated corner road with neighbors directly across from us on a shared lot. My husband worked as a gourmet chef, I, a student and homemaker. I recall that James disappeared for hours at a time, working, drinking or betting on Poker. Many nights I spent amiss his presence, and often I didn't see his face until the light of day. Pastimes awakened my passion for life, kept me entertained -- walks, computer games, shopping at the mall, browsing the web, or smoking marijuana with girlfriends. Preparing food, drinking wine, and decorating and crafting were among our best hobbies, you see, Friends are not something I have been without. To make life more interesting, I knew my neighbors well- A group of interesting young men rooming in an identical condo shared our space. Alex worked nightshift at a television station running shows and late-night commercials. Mark, a tall thin blonde man with a witty personality, worked in advertising at a local radio station. Michael worked as a part-time prep cook in a shoddy cafe downtown throughout the summer, and was into home repairs and remodeling throughout the fall and winter of 2001. Six months subsequent to making our vows, my husband and I barely saw one another. He was a hostile and insecure man, as I came to discover, and I learned to enjoy my time alone. I spent a lot of time over the seasons with the guys, especially Michael, as he was also home frequently, and of whom shared many of my tastes. There was no hope of reviving James, or bringing him home before his time; this was well established. In fear of losing everything to Poker, I entertained myself with the company of my friends and hobbies. Michael and I found the company of one another when no one else was around. Fine red wine, grass, relaxing and talking about much of nothing usually. Sometimes we'd play board games or cards or stroke Michael s cat, Foster. In the evenings this group of men would often convene for a party. "You've got to try some of this cheese" -- Michael's mother would send bricks of it from home in Wisconsin. "Sweaty..." he'd say. "Sweaty?" I grimaced. "Sweaty Cheese, that's what it becomes after it's been sitting out for awhile." I looked at him, then at the cheese, and burst into joyful laughter. "Indeed, it is sweaty!" I exclaimed at such delusional, joyous We sit outside in the bright daylight. It is warm, summertime magic. I am wearing my light gray sundress. The dress included spaghetti straps I remembered, which I could never pull off dude to the enormity bulging from my chest, necessitating my bra. Nevertheless I rocked the gray dress, bra straps and all in my carefree youth. Imbibing ourselves until drunk, we passed the time with either extreme -- conversations which were deep meaningful, purposeful, or those which were based on entirely moot subject matter. I with my tea, my wine, and blackberry beer, getting high while he played renditions of "Dark Star", sharing memories, laughing with movies, returning back into our respective homes, or sitting outside while he strummed his guitar were my favorites. Through the months my friendship with Michael flourished. I sometimes ...waited...for him... to return home from the workplace, a flutter in my belly. The fall had passed by quickly and the Western valley wet with snow. I recall taking short residence upon the porch swing with a cigarette, shivering beneath the blanket I wrapped into, Michael there, calm and collected he says, "you know in Wisconsin it's much colder than this, this is really warm," I thought it was always within his character to speculate laughingly, on these observations of the blatant type. Michael originated from Wisconsin and traveled into the western states just when he moved to the condo in Salem. I'd never known any different. The mild Oregon climate was one I'd grown with my entire life; for this Michael's history of travel, and experience of the world, was appealing. "Do you have any more of that Chianti?" Michael nodded to his kitchen area (a kitchen dreadfully kept in a houseful of men), I followed Michael in the dark for the Chianti. Bad television we watched for awhile; his house always smelled of stale air and pizza, which both disturbed and humored me. Near Christmas my husband and I endured a horrid fight and he had left the house for several days. I was frightened and fearful of my husband's rage and was somber yet, relieved that he was gone. Meanwhile, everyone was preparing for Christmas, I with my tree and ribbons and cards, decorating the walls, wrapping presents, decorating with wine and candles, hanging mistletoe. I was listening to Dave Matthews , a few special romantic songs that I had grown to love, music that inspired my dreams and fueled my fantasies. For the first time, I thought about Michael consciously, and for a moment, what it would be like together, how exciting he would be in play, wrestling and showing him my skin. Ooh these naughty thoughts! I 'd realized I hadn't seen Michael for a few days, though I suspected that he was aware on some level, of the growing tension. Somehow I felt certain that he would never act on the obvious sexual energy between us, we both feared it; perhaps he more than I. Nevertheless, I put the idea out of my mind, quickly. Several months would pass before our passion for one another would confront itself. "Listen, Kendra," unexpectedly, words flowed from his mouth that I never feared. "I think you are very hot, and sexy..." A cold sweat covered me, and I turned white. My heart picked up; I thought I heard my dream coming true. I was uncertain the context and became fearful. "Why, Michael..." in my attempt to breathe out a response. "Well, I just have this feeling like..." "Like what?!" I ask, desperately, in disbelief. "I believe that maybe you are curious about me in the ways I am about you. I can feel it." I want to throw my arms around him, to kiss him, and fuck him. Finally sharing everything, I can imagine it as I have so many times before. "But".. he continued. "You are married. How could I..." "I understand," I say, with a nod. In disbelief, I hold back tears, and I fight for my strength. I cannot allow him to see my heart breaking. How did he know? Perplexed, I stand. "I want to be friends," he says. "I don't want to do wrong by you or James." "I understand," I say. I realize he is right. The status of my relationship, as a wife, precludes me from such horrid and wonderful atrocities. Michael and I don't see one another for many days. I don't go to his house, nor does he come to mine. James arrives for brief stints, but he is hostile and unreachable, therefore I keep to my lifestyle, my hobbies and my music. Each day I do my housework, my exercises, my errands. I am heartbroken. I am lonely it seems, even when my friends are near. Later the following week on a Sunday night, I was returned home from a Christmas party at my mother's. I had been gone for hours, and was now listening to my music while unloading some Christmas treasures from my car. One gift was a microwave in a box that was quite awkward for my size as I attempted to carry it. I glanced at the boys' porch to see the lights appeared dim. My heart sank as I recalled the pain. I grabbed hold of the microwave box with my dainty arms. To my surprise, Michael appeared outside on his porch. My heart fluttered, and I nearly fainted. The love we never had was already over, and I was as stoic as I was excited to see him standing there. I disguised my excitement and gave a generic nod. This proved effective I thought, when he offered me a hand. I was so happy to see him, his long brown hair dangling and his brown eyes which sparkled. He took the box gingerly, and with masculine ease, carried it inside, setting it upon the kitchen countertop. I felt our energy bursting with hot color and I did not want to let him go. I retained my passion for him, holding it back silently. With desire, I had missed him and felt, sincerely glad to have him there as my very good friend. The moment felt suddenly awkward as we grasped for words to fill the silent tension. Instead of turning around to leave at that moment, Michael took another step forward, much to my surprise. I offered a cold Henry Weinhard, which he accepted merrily, and again to my surprise. "So what have you been up to?" He asks. "I was at a party, I have been exchanging gifts, wrapping gifts, decorating, you name it.." I want to come off occupied -- that I am strong and full of life, unencumbered by Michael's subtle power. As we made eye contact I discovered that he was standing directly beneath the mistletoe I had hanging just in the doorway to the kitchen. A short and stocky man, he had not seen it, but looked up when I did and made the same realization silently. I expected him to lunge backwards, laughing, but much to my surprise he remained there for the seconds that followed. I knew what must occur, or I should experience the regret for the rest of time. I sauntered forward slowly towards him, my heart pounding, waiting for him to stop me - until he and I were lip to lip. I smiled crookedly and then joined his lips with mine, locking into a passionate, magical kiss. I surmised that Michael was stunned and frightened altogether, intensely erotic and excited. I grabbed his jacket, pulling him towards the living room where it was tidy and dimly lit with candles, music gently playing. I motioned his jacket off, "oh, I can't believe this," he groaned. "This is naughty, what are you doing...?" Clearly not rejecting me now, he helped with his jacket off and then removed the rest; I removed my red and white Christmas dress and silky panties. He took the Thong from me and sniffed it, his beautiful erect cock was suddenly revealed, begging me to play with it. I realized that his rejections were false, that in fact, this is what he wanted. Alas! Again he surprised me, taking me into his arms and kissing my chest, my breasts, my stomach, then tonguing my pink areas for what seemed a lifetime. "Kendra... you are so.. beautiful..." After such foreplay I could not wait, what was so right and so wrong simultaneously fueled my passion as I felt his lips hands on me. There was no question that this felt as good as imagined. Seeing and feeling his cock near me for the first time, his lips hot upon mine, his long hair playing over my skin as he massaged my delicate pink with his tongue - I climbed atop him and allowed his cock to penetrate deeply, deepest. Hot and hard, his cock filled me. I began to fuck him wildly, intensely, hot on him as my dreams came to fruition and my soft, wet flesh throbbed with joy. "Ohhh, woman," he would groan as we thrust our hips, in disbelief at the wonder and beauty of this experience. We continued in several positions, loving one another for hours, I orgasmed in delight as his cock tickled my insides and as he'd go periodically downward to tongue my red swollen labias. He would stop periodically to kiss and caress. I admired the way he'd grab onto his cock and stroke himself in between breaks like a pro-- I felt he was experienced and so uninhibited in this fashion. Seeing him this way just made me shiver. He stroked and kissed me until he was ready to return to pounding me joyfully and caressing me all the while. "Michael... you feel amazing," I breathed out with exhaustion. Saturated with sweat and his smell, I now knew what David Matthews felt when he performed "Say Goodbye" with perfect excellence. At long last Michael could no longer contain his joy. He moaned, ever so deliciously, his glaive rendering cream for my audience as he stroked his shaft, covering my large breasts with creamy fluid, drawing, on them, even. Oh, how he emerged with great power and passion. We lied together, in the heat and light of Christmas candles so blissfully, sweating, exhausted. This was what Michael wanted. He wanted me his way. Michael's Wife Goes Into Business My husband turned me into a prostitute, I'm loving it, and best of all - he doesn't know. Michael changed jobs about six months ago and while the new job pays considerably more than his old one he has to spend about three weeks out of the month on the road traveling. I am a very highly sexed lady and going without a steady diet of my husband's cock had been very difficult for me. I had several opportunities to scratch my itch, but I loved my husband and so I kept my legs firmly closed. That is I did until I found out that Michael hadn't been as true to me as I had been to him. I found out quite by accident. When Michael comes home the first thing he does is throw his dirty socks and underwear in the washer and wash them. He usually then takes them out of the washer, throws them in the dryer and when they are done he sticks them back in his suitcase. He was out in the backyard cutting the grass when the dryer stopped so I took his stuff out of the dryer and began to fold it. I came upon a pair of woman's underwear and I knew they weren't mine because I don't wear thongs. On a hunch I ran upstairs and checked Michael's suitcase and in one of the inside pockets I found several Trojan condoms. Michael and I had never used condoms. To me the thong and the condoms added up to a cheating husband and I made up my mind right then and there that the next time Michael went out of town some guy was going to get lucky. ++++++++++++++++++ I had gotten a job to fill some of the free time I had since Michael was away a lot and every afternoon when I got off work I would stop at the bar in the hotel across the street and have a cocktail or two before going home. I got to know the bartender and he was always joking with me about setting me up with this or that guy and telling me that a lovely lady like me shouldn't be sitting in a bar alone. I had always laughed and said, "Sorry Charley, I'm a good girl and I can't do things like that." One night, soon after I had made my discovery about Michael I was in the bar and Charley said, "Why are you sitting here and drinking alone? There is a very nice man upstairs who would love to have some company." I'd had a couple of drinks and remembering my vow to get even with Michael I surprised the hell out of Charley when I said, "Give me the room number." He looked at me and said, "Are you serious?" I grinned back at him and said, "Give me the room number and let's find out." I took the elevator up to the sixth floor and knocked on the door of room 631. A man opened the door and I said, "Charley told me that a girl could get herself a drink up here." He wasn't bad looking for an older man and we had several drinks and kissed for a bit and then I let him undress me. He ate my pussy, I sucked his cock and then he fucked me. I stayed the night with him and he fucked me five times and each time he slid his cock into me I was saying, "Take that Michael." I was surprised in the morning that I felt no remorse at cheating on my cheating husband. In fact, I had greatly enjoyed the evening and thought that I might just do it again. ++++++++++++++++++ The next day I stopped at the bar for a quick one on the way home and Charley handed me an envelope with two hundred dollars in it. I gave him a curious look and he said, "For taking care of the man in 631 last night." Without knowing it I had been a call girl and to my surprise it didn't bother me at all to learn that I had let a man fuck me for money or that kindly old Uncle Charley was a pimp. I tucked the envelope in my purse and Charley asked me if I would like to take another trip upstairs. At first I told him no, that I hadn't made it home the previous night, but then I said, "On second thought, why not." Charley smiled and said, "The man in room 403 would like some company." The guy in 403 was young and vigorous and for five hours we did our best to wear each other out. He sucked my breasts, played with my pussy and then I gave him a nice leisurely blow job. He kept trying to pull me off of him so he could fuck me, but I wouldn't let him - I wanted the first load in my mouth. As I swallowed his hot juices I was saying to myself, "Thank you Michael, for giving me the chance to do this." The man fucked me three times and then he asked me how much extra it would cost him for being able to have my ass. I had no idea what call girls charged for things and I didn't really want to show the man my ignorance so I said, "Why don't you just do it and then you can pay me what you think it was worth." I really like anal sex and I'm very vocal when I have a cock up there, you might even say that I squeal like a pig. I was a sweating wreck when he finally came in my ass and then we took a shower together and the mutual body soaping and body scrubbing got us hot again and he fucked me one more time. Just before I left the man handed me a hundred and fifty bucks and asked me for my phone number so he could call me direct. I almost gave it to him, but at the last minute decided not to. I didn't even know if I would do it again, but if I did I figured it would be best (and safer) to deal through Charley. The next afternoon Charley handed me another envelope with two hundred in it and asked me if I felt like giving room 513 some company. I was hesitant. I hadn't gotten home the previous night until two in the morning and I hadn't gone home the night before that at all. That meant that I had missed two of Michael's phone calls, but then I thought "To hell with it, I was doing this to get back at him. He would be home the next day and we could talk then. When the door to 513 opened I got a bit of a shock. The man was a tall, well-built black man. As a girl born and raised in the South - the Deep South - I had never had much to do with blacks and I guess that it showed on my face. He smiled at me, "What's the matter? Never seen a black man before?" I took a deep breath, smiled back at him and said, "Not the way I'm about to see you" and I stepped into the room. He was another young, virile stud and for the next four hours he turned me every way but loose. When he was done I was completely satisfied. I had sucked his cock twice and he had fucked me four times and even though I was satisfied, I was disappointed. I'd always heard the black men had huge cocks, but this guy's cock was no bigger than Michael's, or for that matter, any bigger than the other cocks I'd had that week. But the bottom line was that I had enjoyed it and I had disproved something that my momma and daddy had always told me - it did not rub off. When I picked up my envelope from Charley the next day he asked me if I would like to visit room 318. I was about to tell him no, that my husband would be home by now, but then I thought "Why am I in such a hurry to go home to that cheating bastard?" The man in 318 was an older man with bad breath and a beer gut and I was sorry that I'd taken the job. That is I was sorry until he took off his pants and I saw the eleven and a half-inch cock. I never knew how easy it could be to overlook bad breath and a fat gut until I eased myself down on that huge pole. I could not get enough of that monster and we fucked all night. I totally forgot about Michael and about having to go home. The only thing I thought about was getting that cock hard again and keeping it hard. It was nine in the morning before the man, his name was Al, told me we had to stop because he had a plane to catch. Before I left I wrote my cell phone number down on a piece of paper and gave it to him. "If you can get rid of the bad breath I'll fuck you for free whenever you want" and I left him standing in the doorway staring at me as I walked away. ++++++++++++++++++ Michael was pissed when I got home. He demanded to know where I had been and I told him that I had stopped for drinks with some of the girls after work, overdid it and that Sally wouldn't let me drive and I spent the night with her. Then we got in a screaming match about my not being there when he called, not being home when he got there and I let him have it for taking a job that left me at home alone four nights a week with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs. I finally yelled, "Fuck you Michael" and went to the bedroom, undressed and took a shower. I was glad that we'd had the confrontation because it meant that we wouldn't have sex for a while. If he had met me at the door in a loving mood I wouldn't have been able to put him off and I pretty sure he would have noticed the wetness and the looseness - an eleven-inch cock can do that to a girl. By Sunday morning Michael was all apologetic and by noon we were in bed. Michael has always been great in bed and I never would have strayed if I hadn't found out about him cheating on me, but he did, and so I did. Monday when I stopped at the bar Charley got someone to watch things for him and he led me back to his office. He handed me the envelope for Friday's visit with Al and said, "So far everyone loves it when I send you to them, but one guy asked me why a fox like you is working so cheap. I asked him what he meant and he said you stayed with him for almost five hours and that you both did everything you could think of, is that true?" I nodded a yes. "Well sweetie, you have been giving away the store. All that those guys expected for what they paid was a blow job and a fuck. In and out - an hour at most. Did you not know that?" I smiled at him, "No Charley, I didn't know that. I'm not a prostitute Charley, I'm a housewife who did what she did to get back at her husband for cheating on her. I'm not in this for the money. The first couple of times I did it was to get back at my husband. Now I'm doing it for the sex. I'm doing it now Charley because I like it." I got up and locked the door to the office. "Take it out for me Charley. Let me show you my appreciation for getting me started on this." I have a talent for sucking cocks and I've not found a man that I can't get off in less than four minutes. Charley was no exception and as I tucked him back in his pants I said, "Next time you can fuck me. All I ask is that you try to give me the young and vigorous ones, okay?" ++++++++++++++++++++++++ Since then I have fucked over eighty-five men and I've managed to squirrel away almost thirty-five thousand dollars doing it. I've not spent a nickel of what I've been paid for my talents and I can't even begin to explain why. I guess it has something to do with the fact that I don't think of myself as a prostitute and I know that as soon as I spend one dollar of that money I will be admitting that I am one. I've had sex with anywhere from one man to nine and gangbangs are fast becoming my favorite thing. There is a convention in the hotel in two weeks and Charley tells me he can set me up with as many as I want. I told him to try for a baker's dozen - thirteen has always been my lucky number. I fuck Charley on the average of twice a week, mostly because I like him. He could have me more, but he laughs and says he has to save a little for his other girls. Al comes to town about once a month and usually stays for about a week. He hasn't conquered his bad breath problem yet, but I still let him fuck me all he wants - there is just something about an eleven inch cock that makes me overlook a lot. Charley keeps telling me I'm giving away a fortune, that all his other girls are turning six or eight tricks a night, and I have to keep telling him that I'm not doing it for the money. I don't expect that I will ever confront Michael on his faithlessness because then I wouldn't have the excuse I need to keep on getting even. And getting even is just too damn much fun.