51 comments/ 45157 views/ 23 favorites The Half Marathon By: ukresearcher I've always had a very low opinion of those who cheat, both male and female. Examples of men who cheat, I only know by hearsay but when during my gap year and three years at university, there were times when I seemed surrounded by girls who treated lack of loyalty as a virtue. The fact of having a long term steady boyfriend seemed no bar to a girl opening her legs on a one night stand and more than once a friend has said to me in justification, "What harm does it do? I'm certainly not missing out on a good shag just because he happens to be away for the week and anyway, what he doesn't know can't hurt him." I just couldn't be like that. Even when it looked certain that a relationship was in its final stages I wouldn't go out with someone new until it was officially over. Yet most other girls seemed to grab every opportunity to play around. Three different times I have been a bridesmaid and watched a friend walk down the isle on the arm of a doting husband, knowing in each case, that she had been fucked by at least one other man during the course of their courtship. One of the three was actually pregnant and I hope her hubby never sits down and actually works out the maths. I don't really think I was a prude but I certainly wasn't promiscuous. I had full sex with only three different men before I met Jim and the first of those doesn't really count. Both of the others were fairly steady relationships and I only went to bed with them after we'd been together for a couple of months. There were quite a few other guys where we had a few dates and there was a degree of mutual groping but even that fell well short of any kind of oral. When I was eighteen, a girlfriend was throwing an all night part while her parents were away. During the early evening I was having a marvellous time dancing and drinking but I gradually realised that other girls were only partially dressed and there were couples doing more than just make out on the different items of furniture around the room. Suddenly there seemed to be boy's hands pawing at me from all directions and, even though I was pretty drunk, I knew I didn't want to be there. I found my friend to say I wanted to go home but I hadn't any taxi fare and she was unsympathetic. One cue her older brother offered to run me home. He had been drinking but was far more sober than I was so I accepted gratefully. I admit that I had a bit of a crush on him but it was of long standing and he had never shown the slightest interest in me. He helped me into the rear seat and I think I just lay there semi-comatose. Part way to my home he pulled into a patch of woods and climbed into the back seat with me saying, "Right you little tart, you've been asking for it all night and now you're going to get it." With that he planted a few slobbering kisses round my mouth and the next moment I felt an excruciating pain between my legs. The next bit is a blur but know I screamed, he must have paused, looked down, saw the blood and panicked. I remember him saying, "Oh shit." Then he kind of shook me and swore, "Stupid cunt, why the fuck didn't you say you were a virgin?" I didn't answer and he switched to being conciliatory and trying to clean me up but all the time insisting that I had really wanted it. It ended when he made a kind of bargain, "Tell me you wanted it and I'll take you home." I just wanted to be safe in my own bed so I said what he wanted to hear. I've never told a soul about this until now – not even Jim but you can possibly understand why I couldn't be free and easy with the opposite sex after that. I reaped the reward for my restrained lifestyle when I met Jim. Ironically, I had just decided that I was missing out and had gone to a party with the intention of getting laid when he happened to be the first guy to ask me to dance. We stayed together all evening and, although indulging in some very passionate kissing, he never pushed for more. It was almost three months before we first had full sex and by then we were firmly on the path to marriage. Jim is 5'10", average build and although not conventionally handsome, I think he is very attractive. It was actually his character rather than his looks that appealed so strongly to me. He's very intelligent with a quick sense of humour and I think he is the kindest man alive apart from possibly my dad. Jim is also an intensely loving man. He was perfect and I was so glad that I had saved myself for him, more or less. We had met when we were both in the final year of teacher training, got married after graduation and last year celebrated our twelfth wedding anniversary. There are three primary objectives in life – excitement, pleasure and happiness. Many people, especially the young, go for one of the first pair or a combination of the two but right from the start I was set on finding happiness, following the example set by my parents long, devoted monogamous marriage. Those twelve years had produced two children, Steven 7 and Aimee 5 but a combination of child bearing and total contentment meant that I was now carrying more than a few pounds too much. I am 5' 6" tall and was always slim with a lithe athletic figure which unfortunately included a bust rather on the small side. I was pretty then and still am but apart from that my sex appeal had definitely deteriorated. As a teenager my strong points used to be very shapely legs and a bottom that was nicely rounded but compact – when going out it was always hard to decide whether I should wear a nice short skirt or my tight jeans. Passage of time resulted in heavier thighs, a bum that I was sure was too big and a certain bulge round my middle. When your tits are too small, a nice concave stomach can accentuate what you have but when your tummy instead bulges the opposite way then it's a disaster for self esteem. During the two pregnancies my breasts swelled up nicely, to Jim's great delight, but sadly my bust is the only part of my body that did return to normal. When Aimee started school I returned to full time employment. I had done some part time teaching during the previous two years but now I started full time at the local junior school. Throughout the marriage Jim had been teaching at a senior school in the city and was now head of a department. My fellow staff members were almost all female and they split into two distinct groups with some half a dozen early twenties with the rest being more matronly ladies aged in their late forties. At thirty-three, I fitted neatly into the middle but couldn't decide which group to gravitate towards. Figure wise I belonged with the older women but spiritually I felt far more on the younger wavelength. In my teens I'd been the adventurous type. At different times I done both mountaineering and potholing, thoroughly enjoying both and I also tried bungee jumping and para-gliding but only to get the T-shirt. The conversation attracted me to the probationers group but the contrast between my figure and theirs was a great incentive to get myself back in shape. I started jogging round the streets for half an hour every evening and it was gratifying the way the surplus weight started to disappear. By the return to school after the following Easter I was nicely back in shape, just when the conversation was all about a fun run in aid of charity that was set to take place in the autumn. I was full of enthusiasm but after studying the leaflet, in my current fit state, I was more attracted by the challenge of the proper half marathon run on the same day. After talking it over with Jim I put my name down for the more serious event and started planning a more intense training schedule. My new svelte shape had the side benefit of causing my husband to become a degree more frisky. I always considered myself to have a fairly low sex drive. Jim's drive was only slightly stronger but this did ensure that he almost invariably took the initiative. Even in the beginning, making love was never our overwhelming preoccupation but in the early years we still managed to average a healthy three times a week. Unfortunately, by the time I started working full time again our sex life had deteriorated to a once a week Saturday night ritual but having got back in trim, just looking sexier made me feel sexier so I welcomed Jim's renewed interest. While maintaining my evening jogs I decided to rise an hour early on weekend mornings to get in a much longer run and still be back in time to do breakfasts for the kids. With the long summer break coming up I planned to train most mornings and bring myself to peak condition just right for the event. We live right on the edge of town and within minutes of the house there is a countryside track that skirts the base of a large hill. I calculated that to the other side of the hill and back would nicely fill the hour I had allocated. Stepping out into the early sunlight and fresh morning air was unexpectedly invigorating and I found real pleasure in the sense of solitude and the feeling that the world was empty apart from me. So after twenty minutes it came as a shock to see a male figure in the distance, heading towards me along the track. There was some reassurance in the fact that he was also a runner but also a reason for worry as well. When out during the dark evenings I had run defensively but my main peace of mind had come from knowing that I could almost certainly outrun anyone who tried to accost me. Now from the easy way this tall stranger was moving I knew he could give a 100yards start and still catch me with ease and I suddenly wished there were other people around. As he grew nearer I was studying the runner intensely. Incongruously, even at a distance I was struck by the fact that he had very nice knees. Compared to a female, men's legs completely lack a rounded shape yet this particular pair cried out to be displayed in a kilt. On a more ominous note, the man sharing my early morning was unusually tall, at least 6' 4", and that fact alone almost prompted me to hide in the ditch until he had gone past. I didn't and a moment later I could see that he had a definitely handsome, good natured humorous face, topped by fair, medium length but rather wind swept hair. In age I guessed that he was mid to late twenties. He gave me a nod and a very pleasant smile. I managed to smile back before he ran quickly past. The next morning, at about the same point I spotted him approaching again but this time with no sense of fear. As he drew close I again received a very charming smile but with the added remark, "You're dedicated." "I'm in training for a half marathon," I told him proudly. "Good for you," he said running past. The following Saturday morning I was watching out for him and was left with a vague sense of disappointment when he failed to appear. However, the next morning hearing footfalls approaching from behind I turned to find him running in the same direction as myself. "Late start," he explained with a grin. I was pleased when, instead of running past, he slowed and fell into step beside me. We introduced ourselves, amusingly making a clumsy attempt to shake hands while continuing to run. "I'm Michael but I prefer Mike," he said. I told him more about my half marathon but to my surprise he revealed that he wasn't a serious runner and only ran to keep his mind and body right. That first time, on the return leg he ran on leaving me but the following morning I found him waiting for me at the start of the track. This time we stayed together until the end. Tentatively at first he started giving me tips on running, at times jogging backwards in front of me to assess my style. He advised to run slightly faster and change the jogging style into a more fluid motion on the basis that it actually conserved energy. Another tip was to periodically let my arms dangle and shake my hands to aid circulation in the upper body. The next week I arrived on the track first. It was my turn to wait and sure enough he arrived a few minutes later. This time at the turn round point we perched on a fence and chatted for a few minutes. I told him about Jim and the kids and in return he said that he was engaged and would be getting married when his fiancé returned from America where she was doing a year's post graduate research. Sex was not top of my priorities but the thought of going a whole year without still horrified me so I found myself asking if he could last that long without a woman. "I've got a lot of resolve and I take care to make it as easy as possible," he told me. "I don't really need people so I avoid temptation by cutting out all socialising and I run night and morning to ensure that I'm both mentally and physically tired." "But what about your fiancé?" Mike gave this a long moments thought and then said carefully, "Claire is a passionate girl and she's also very gregarious. I think she will have strayed before I see her again but I'm confident that another man will not have stolen her heart. When she returns I shan't ask. I'll just assume her fidelity; we'll get married and spend the rest of our lives together. In the final analysis, if she still loves me, does it really matter if she has cheated a bit?" I didn't answer that because I knew I would be incandescent if I found that Jim had been playing around. As I was trying to conjure up a change of subject, Mike asked if I was happily married. I told him blissfully so, going on to extol Jim's virtues as the perfect husband and a wonderful father. I said I had a perfect life and fervently hoped that nothing would ever change that. On the next four opportunities, we met every morning at the start of the track and spent ten to fifteen minutes chatting at the turn round point. In all that time I made no mention of my morning companion to Jim and feel no guilt about that even in retrospect. At the time I believed those morning trysts to be completely innocent but knew that if I described Mike my husband was bound to feel some degree of unease. I can less easily excuse the fact that I purchased some briefer tighter running shorts and started to wax my legs more religiously. The next Saturday, after only running a short way, Mike paused and pointing to a stile asked if I had ever thought of running uphill to the top of the small crag. "It's a real energy burn but coming down you feel as if you're flying. I go that way whenever I'm a bit short on time," he said. My answer was to cross the stile. I had expected him to go ahead but instead he immediately dropped behind. Scrambling up the steep slope ahead of him I admit wondering if he was appreciating my new shorts. Nearing the top, I was growing desperately short of breath but felt unable to stop running so it was a great relief when Mike shouted that a certain large rock was our target. Gratefully I threw myself down on the bank of soft moss at the foot of the rock and allowed my lungs to suck in the badly needed oxygen. We stayed chatting far longer than usual before heading back down and it was idyllic gazing at the blue sky and luxuriating in the early morning sunshine. The next day I reached the stile first and vaulted over without checking if he wished to go that way. This time I paced myself better and reached the top with less distress but still flung myself down on the moss, looking back in time to see Mike hopping the last few feet, indicating that he had a loose shoelace. I expected him to crouch to fix it but instead he planted one foot near my elbow and cocked his other long leg up to rest the offending shoe high up on the rock. This caused the leg of his shorts to gape wide open and I found myself staring up at his genitals dangling only a short way above my face. My first reaction was one of amusement but this was quickly replaced by shock at how huge they seemed. Had the lace tied, I should have been afforded only a brief tantalising glimpse but I heard him curse as he tossed a broken lace end to the ground. Still holding the same position, he seemed to take an age patiently feeding the remaining lace through the holes to salvage a tie-able end. I tried to politely look away but my eyes were compulsively drawn back to that magnificent organ and I was granted sufficient time to savour every tiny detail. For a start his testicles hung heavily and were each the size of nectarines. His fat penis shaft was completely soft but easily exceeded five inches in length and I was intrigued by the fact that the head seemed to be completely covered with loose skin. To complete the effect, his pubic hair was light coloured and seemed to cling to his skin rather than form the usual bush. It may be hard to believe but my initial was not an erotic one – rather I was entranced by the real beauty of what I was seeing. All the same, I was very aware of my heart pounding. On completing his task, Mike glanced down and, seeing the fixated look on my face, immediately realised the situation. Quickly standing back down he began apologising profusely saying "I'm so sorry, that must have been embarrassing." "Not embarrassing, I would say more educational," I told him dryly but then, more to ease his tension than to flatter, I added, "I'm impressed. Mike smiled but then became flustered again saying,"Oh God, I hope you don't think I did that on purpose." "It was you being so completely unaware that made it so nice," I said. My words were rewarded when he relaxed but then reanalysis of what I'd said caused me to become agitated in turn and I urgently qualified saying, "When I said 'so nice' I didn't mean......" Mike grinned and told me, "Don't worry, I know what you meant." Then sitting down he thankfully changed the subject by producing a drink and offering it to me first. He explained that when planning real exertion he always carried the high energy drink that profession runners collect at feeding stations and for the remainder of our rest period we talked about running. Although we had talked safely past the incident, I couldn't get the image of what I had seen out of my head. Up until that moment I had never really given male genitalia much consideration. I had viewed the cocks of those two previous boyfriends at close quarters but, apart from possibly being slightly larger, I couldn't remember them as any different from Jim's dick and, although there were memories of a couple of male organs I'd handled in darkened cinemas that seemed a bit more substantial, I always rather naively assumed that cocks came as fairly standard issue for any given height. Whenever the phrase 'size matters' is used in mixed company, the females immediately assume a knowing smirk while the males become exceedingly jocular but still look uncomfortable. I joined in that sexes game with the rest but not on the basis of real experience. I really only had the years of close acquaintance with my husband's penis to go on and that was a bit of an enigma. Normally when limp it was a little over two inches in length and when cold it sometimes shrunk until all I could see was the head nestling in his pubes but it grew to a satisfactory six and a half inches when stiff. I rather admired the design, extending for use and then shrinking neatly out of the way. I had been content but now my mind felt inflamed by visions of Mike's fabulous phallus. That night in bed, the moment that Jim slipped in beside me, I placed my hand in his groin, gently bouncing his testicles to assess weight and bulk, squeezing the shaft testing for thickness and trying to compare both to what I had seen that morning. My husband was startled if not displeased but still felt the need to enquire the reason for this sudden attention to his private parts. Thinking quickly I told him he'd seemed a bit larger down there recently so I was just checking. Jim seemed inordinately pleased by my lie, literally swelling with pride in my hand. Pretty quickly it developed into an amorous situation and I discovered that I was badly in need of the sexual servicing he was eager to provide. The Half Marathon By the following weekend, I had put my bit of accidental voyeurism into perspective and rationalised my silly overreaction to it. Unfortunately all that good work was lost the moment that Mike started running alongside me the on the Saturday morning for I was quickly assailed by a mental picture of his gorgeously large genitals bouncing and swaying between his thighs as he moved, and no matter what mind techniques I tried to employ, the image refused to go away. Sunday was the same and on both days I made poor conversation. On neither occasion did we run up to the rock, mainly because some sense of self preservation caused me to run determinedly past the stile. That week I rather exhausted Jim with my sexual demands and for the first time in my marriage started regularly masturbating once he was safely asleep. Mike seemed content to follow my lead so Saturday morning found us running uphill again. With him always running alongside or slightly behind I had little opportunity to see him from the front so this time, nearing the top, I put on a spurt and reached the rock a good few paces ahead. I quickly turned round and looked intently to see if I could see sign of his penis moving under the thin shorts material. "You're looking rather preoccupied," Mike remarked as he walked up. I took a deep breath. "I was rather hoping you might break your shoelace again." Mike looked at me in surprise for a moment but then grinned and stepped forward to place a foot high on the rock in an identical pose to before. It is ridiculous that seeing his cock again actually took my breath away for a moment and even when I knew I was breathing normally again, I still had a heart pounding hot headed feeling. Mike allowed me a minute of penile adoration before asking, "What would your husband say if he saw you gazing at my cock?" "He wouldn't be happy but he couldn't really say anything," I replied defensively. "I know he's been to strip clubs with colleagues more than once and lots of women watch male strippers. The rule seems to be that as long as you just look and don't touch there's nothing to be ashamed of." I was allowed several more minutes of study, during which I saw his penis react to my scrutiny without actually going stiff. It ended when Mike stepped down suddenly complaining that he was getting cramp. He sat down beside me for a minute or two, rubbing his thigh and then said semi-humorously, "I've shown you mine so you really ought to show me yours." While not averse to his suggestion I told him, "You wouldn't see much because I'm wearing panties under my shorts and I'm certainly not undressing here where anybody can see." He said he would settle for panties so, with some laughter, we arranged ourselves with him lying on the ground and me sitting self consciously in front of him with knees bent and thighs well spread. "I like it, so nice and moist" he said and I blushed at the realisation that he now knew just how wet looking at his endowment had made me. I allowed him a long lecherous look but when I finally closed my legs he said that although he had thoroughly enjoyed what he did see, he still felt that I owed him. I quickly promised that next time I wouldn't wear panties. I think during that week my twat underwent more scrutiny from my eyes than in the previous thirty-three years of my life. Every opportunity I was checking and re-checking, constantly combing and trimming, trying to ensure that it was neat enough to put on display. At one point I even balanced in front of my dressing table mirror, bent double and looking at the refection from between my legs to see what it looked like from behind. By the time that Saturday arrived I could hardly contain my feelings of excitement. On meeting we barely spoke but both of us set off running with an extra sense of urgency. "You first," Mike called as we neared the rock and I'd primed myself for this moment so much that to delay would have been a disappointment. I sat for a long in the same pose as before, my body on fire purely from the unconcealed lust and desire in his eyes. At one point he reached out a hand and I flinched but he only wanted to ease the crotch of my shorts slightly to the side. He had made appreciative noises throughout but when I brought my little self exhibition to a close, Mike delivered judgment saying, "The female pudenda is the most compulsive sight in the world but some are somewhat less than aesthetic. I've got to say that yours has got to be the prettiest little pussy I've ever seen." I wanted to throw my arms round him in pleasure. When Mike posed for my benefit this time his cock was fully erect. Seeing his male organ for the first in all its rampant glory affected me and, strictly of its own volition, my hand reached up and grasped it. That touch lasted only for the briefest second because I instantly released my grip as if it were a red hot poker. This is an apt allegory because his penis was completely rigid and radiating heat. Next moment I was running blindly down the hill trying to escape the feelings that had threatened to overwhelm me. Mike caught up with me as I reached the track and started running alongside but with a tactful amount of separation between us. "I know what's wrong because I wanted to do the same," he argued gently. "We made the mistake of being too close. If we went somewhere more private and looked at each other from further apart there wouldn't be the same temptation to touch." I was eager to grasp any excuse that would allow our game to continue. On Sunday I again left off underwear and set off with almost the same anticipation as the previous day. This time Mike took the lead and shortly before reaching the rock he veered off into almost shoulder high bracken, creating a path until we reached a small flattened area. Without ceremony we both removed our shorts and sat down facing with our feet almost touching. It was nice being able to look at each other simultaneously but while he could undoubtedly see my cunt better his cock looked less impressive without the dangle effect it had when he was standing. It also didn't help that, although he was certainly aroused, his penis lacked the stiffness of the day before. It was pleasant but after a few minutes I began to feel slightly bored. I think he must have felt the same because he suddenly said, "Please play with yourself." "I will if you do," I bargained. He was happy to comply but even had he refused I might still have granted his request because my vagina was aching to be touched, if only by my own fingers. For the next ten to fifteen minutes we each lay and masturbated for the others visual pleasure. I got very close but couldn't manage to actually cum because, for some reason, the real sight of him tossing off proved less efficacious than the mental fantasies I used at home. Suddenly Mike gave a moan and I watched a jet of white semen arc through the air like an Icelandic geyser, to be followed by several lesser spurts. The sight triggered what seemed like an avalanche of orgasms and I flopped back with body heaving, eyes closed and fingers buried deep inside myself. Afterwards we both seemed a little subdued (or overwhelmed) as we dressed but I managed to lighten the mood by pointing to where his initial gush of semen had splashed across a large stone and remarked how appropriately he had marked our territory. There was no rain at all that week so when we next arrived at our secret place, his cum could still be seen crusted on the stone and I touched it symbolically before removing my shorts. We took up facing positions but had only been playing with ourselves for a few minutes when I scrambled to lie beside him saying, "I'd like to do that for you." Mike hesitated and then said, "I'm very happy to let you but are you really sure it's what you want. Have you given it enough thought?" "I've thought of nothing else all week and I've decided it's Okay," I told him. "Since that American president lots of people agree that touching and even oral isn't really adultery." He quickly provided the rational that I lacked saying, "I can understand that. Pregnancy and inheritance are the only reasons that so many civilisations have strictures about infidelity. With touching and oral that isn't an issue." I immediately grabbed hold of his member but was disappointed not to have the same immediate tactile reaction as with that previous brief touch. One reason may have been that he was not as potently stiff as before – but my caresses soon corrected that situation. My sworn intention was to do no more than wank him but when the first glistening globule of pre-cum welled up from his slit, vow forgotten, my mouth descended upon it as if it were nectar of the gods. From then on I sucked him unashamedly and after a few minutes he squirmed round to reciprocate on me. When he got close, Mike warned and asked if he should pull out but my answer was to lock my hands behind his buttocks to prevent any chance of escape. That first rush of hot cum into my mouth is indescribable but it provoked an absolutely massive orgasm. Mike happily claimed that this was entirely due to his oral ministrations and I didn't disabuse him. We did mutual oral every time after that but the truth is that Mike is not very talented with his mouth, at least he's nowhere near as good as Jim. That is probably not a fair comparison because my husband has had over twelve years learning exactly what I like. Another factor is that with Jim I just lie and enjoy it but, in our bracken hideaway, I was always distracted by deriving more pleasure from sucking Mike's cock. I hope what I have just said doesn't give the impression that I was selfish in my marriage. I didn't dislike having my husband's dick in my mouth but I didn't derive a lot of actual enjoyment except at times the satisfaction of having him completely under my control and of course the knowledge that I was giving him pleasure. The truth is that Jim prefers to use his tongue on my pussy without distraction. His constant moans show that he gets an inordinate amount of pleasure from the activity and if it was just foreplay he wouldn't need to spend half as long doing it. Also sometimes he does have premature ejaculation problems and I think he feels that getting me off that way makes the fucking bit less important. What I don't actually understand is why I enjoy Mike's cum flooding into my mouth so much but always try to avoid sucking my husband to completion. It can't be personality. It may be diet but I always cook healthy food so I believe it has to be a healthier lifestyle that makes Mike's semen less acrid and far far nicer tasting. That same reasoning also works for quantity and texture. It was the Sunday of the weekend before the schools broke up for the summer break. We were in our den with my lover's cock as usual half way down my throat when I suddenly rolled away and told him, "I want it inside me." This time Mike didn't argue and actually got his legs in a tangle as he urgently scrambled to get on top of me. I was very wet and he had already opened me up with his fingers but I was surprised at the ease with which his huge cock slid into me. There was no sensation of it having to force a way but boy did I feel full when it was in. Before he had done even six thrusts I had a massive orgasm and this immediately triggered him and the orgasm seemed to go on and on as what felt like gallons of cum found somewhere to go inside me. His cock didn't shrink, in fact it stayed stiff as we lay there holding each other. After I felt it twitch and I responded by giving a squeeze with my vaginal muscles and over the next fifteen minutes I experienced the most deliciously sensuous interlude of my life with us lying quite still as our sexual organs conducted a hidden conversation. Eventually he started moving again. I had already felt his cum oozing out of me and trickling down to my anus but now the fucking action caused a lewd squelching noise and we both laughed with a kind of erotic embarrassment. This time he continued for quite a long time and this ejaculation when it came felt to have almost as much volume as the first. I lost count of the number of times he made me cum altogether. At the end he tried to kiss me but I turned my face away, explaining that I had to keep something for my husband. It's a measure of Mike's character that he immediately understood. I was over half an hour late when I reached home and walked up the garden path with a feeling of trepidation, convinced that signs of my infidelity would show like a neon sign on my face. Jim was busy in the kitchen but he saw nothing of the sort, not even enquiring why I was late. Instead he gave me a loving smile saying, "Everything's under control. I fixed breakfast for the kids and they're watching TV as usual." Instead of relief I felt irritated by his complacency. Surely if he loved me as much as he claimed, my husband's male instinct should have let him know that little more than half an hour before I was lying ecstatically in the bracken with another man's huge cock squirting high up inside me. Invariably on returning from a run I went straight to the shower but this time I poured some fruit juice from the fridge and went to stand with my back against the sink. There was an undoubted pleasurable defiance posing in front of my husband with the knowledge that I almost certainly had large quantities of Mike's cum still inside me. A deep part of my nature even hoped that some would start trickling down my leg for him to see. The events of the morning were so momentous that at that moment I would rather be discovered and face my husband's recrimination than for it all to pass unremarked. "It really is a wonderful day," I said brightly. "We are having rather an exceptional summer," Jim agreed. "A day like this is so satisfying," I went on. "It's exhilarating. Makes you feel glad to be alive." "If it's that good, perhaps we should scrap lunch and have a bar-b-cue instead." Jim seemed determined to drag my mind back to family when I wanted it to stay with my lover for a little while longer, so I drained the glass and left. In the shower I thankfully recovered my senses. The next day was the first of the summer break and I had already told Jim that I intended to intensify my training by doing the early morning run every day. Ever since Easter, although there had been occasional rain midweek, weekend after weekend had been completely dry and even the newspapers remarked on the exceptional run of good weather. This was the day that it broke and my heart sank when I woke to the sound of pounding rain. Mike and I had agreed to start meeting half an hour sooner but with little prospect of sex I was very tempted to stay in bed. As I neared the start of the track with rain streaming down my face, the headlights of a car parked ahead flashed me and I knew it was Mike. He took me to his house and we had sex in a bed for the first time. Over the next weeks we got together five times every week and, due to the weather, spent slightly more time in his bed than lying on bracken. There were times when I had to deliberately step in his shower fully clothed before leaving to ensure I was authentically wet before returning to my loving husband. Mike was a writer and worked from home. He did free lance articles for magazines, proof read for other authors and filled in with web page design but two days every week he had to spend in London, attending meetings and picking up manuscripts. Jim wanted to go abroad for at least a week during the holidays but, on the basis of my training, I persuaded him to settle for days out. This meant I could still get my morning fuck without it interfering with the children's pleasures. Mike preferred copulation and I too was very partial to that activity because he made me delirious with pleasure but from a mental point of view I liked worshipping his cock with my hands and mouth slightly more. I loved looking at it, touching it and sucking it. His balls were so big that even singly I daren't put them in my mouth for fear of hurting them with my teeth but I licked every single millimetre. I particularly enjoyed nuzzling my nose underneath his testicles just to inhale his slightly sweaty masculine aroma but most of all I loved feeling the elixir of life gush hotly from inside his body onto my eagerly awaiting tongue. During those precious weeks I had two periods, so that meant a total of ten days when that wonderful cock was mine to do with as I liked. One of these times when my pussy was out of bounds, Mike wanted to try anal. Unfortunately we were in our mountain den at the time with no lubrication available except spit and it hurt so bad that I never dared try it again. Another trick I mastered was to take my lover's long penis almost completely into my throat until my nose was touching his body. As long as he didn't move I could control the feeling of panic and once held that position for almost four minutes. It invariably ended with me retching up strings of slimy saliva but Mike didn't seem to mind because he was always asking if I wanted to swallow him again. After the above you may wonder if I still loved my husband but I can honestly say that going with Mike actually made me love Jim more. I don't think I actually loved Mike at all. I liked him as a person and I loved being with him but I can't say that I ever felt a sense of care towards him. Over the years, often during the day I would wonder what my husband was doing at that moment, if he was having problems or if he was feeling happy. With Mike I only ever thought of him to wish we were together and had I learned that he was in desperate trouble, my only concern would have been whether he would still be available to fuck me the following morning. I did like having sex with two men during the same day. Often when Jim had his small cock inside me and was struggling to do what Mike had achieved so easily that morning, I would feel a great surge of tenderness, crush my husband to me and try to make it extra special for him. In fairness I must also confess something far less admirable. I always showered after being with my lover but I didn't douche so when Jim was sucking my cunt that night he had to be ingesting some remnant of Mike's semen along with my juices and, due to some aberrant streak in my nature, I always derived a perverse thrill from that fact. Towards the end of the long school break, Mike started saying that he wished we could have longer together and how much he would like to go to sleep at night with his cock still in me. Thinking this through, I told my husband that the marathon organisers had fixed a meeting on Friday afternoon to talk about arrangements for the run, feeding stations and such, going on to say that there was also a dinner and social get together in the evening. I offered come home straight after the meeting but as expected he told me to book a hotel room and stay for the do, generously adding that he could certainly take care of the kids on his own for one night. It would have been easiest to just spend my free time at Mike's house but we decided it safest to really get a hotel room where Jim could contact me and for my lover to book a room in the same hotel. The Tuesday and Wednesday were the days that Mike was away so I was looking forward to Thursday when he and I could talk about our forthcoming night together but after the kids were in bed on Wednesday evening; my husband dropped his bombshell by asking if I was having an affair. I had promised myself that I wouldn't lie should this situation ever occur so I answered truthfully, "It's not an affair but I am getting fucked by someone else." "How long has it been going on?" "About five weeks." "That sounds like an affair to me." The Half Marathon "It's not an affair because I don't let him kiss me." "What the fuck has that got to do with it – you've French-kissed both Rick and Jeff at New Year parties in front of me," Jim pointed out. "That was just being sociable and anyway, you were busy snogging their wives." "What's the bastards name?" Jim asked getting my interrogation back on track." "He's called Mick but you don't know him." This seemed to floor him for the moment so my husband got up to pour himself a drink, pointedly not doing one for me. "How did you find out," I had to ask. "I've felt there was something different about you for quite a long time but I couldn't put my finger on it," Jim replied slowly. "Then you shaved yourself almost bare. If you had made a big thing about it I would have been pleased but you didn't say a word and left me to find out. I guessed then that you had done it for someone else not me but I still hadn't any proof. It was your planned night away that did it, I rang the marathon organisers and they didn't know anything about a meeting or a social evening." "I'm so sorry," I said but even while speaking I did a mental qualification. I was desperately sorry that my husband had been hurt by finding but in all honesty, I couldn't regret my times with Mike." Ignoring my apology, Jim carried on as if I hadn't spoken saying, "At first I couldn't see when you had the opportunity but it had to be some guy at your school that you screwed during lunchtimes and free periods and during these holidays, it's obvious that you see him when you're meant to be shopping and when I take the kids swimming." "It's nothing to do with school. I'm having sex with a guy I meet when I go out running in the morning," I said softly. "How often?" "Almost every day," I had to admit, upon which Jim stood up and quickly left the room. We passed without speaking for the remainder of the evening and although we shared the same bed; my husband lay as far away from me as he could. Future events were to confound my expectations but for the rest of the year I happily went along with what has to be a bizarre situation. In retrospect I see that I might have been better advised to end my affair as soon as it was discovered and concentrate on saving my marriage. The following evening with our offspring again safely out of the way, Jim decided that he wanted to talk, opening conversation with the single word, "Why?" "I don't know what to say. We started running together every day and desire just crept on me. Then, after we did it the first time, the sex was so good that I couldn't stop." Jim winced at this but still followed up with his obviously prepared question, "So what's he like, this chap?" I gave roughly the same description noted here but left out one important detail and that was the subject of my husband's next question, "Is his cock bigger than mine?" "Yes," I told him without elaboration. "Much bigger?" My instinct was to play down the real magnitude of Mike's endowment but instead, grasping the truth like a nettle, I told him, "It's a whole lot bigger." When I said that my husband's whole body seemed to sag but incongruously, the look on his face was one of relief not despair. "I still love you as much I ever did," I said. "This was just sex. It was fantastic sex but still just sex." Jim nodded at this but did not speak and just sat looking at me. I broke the ensuing silence by asking what he wanted to do. "I don't know yet," Jim said. "But I don't want you seeing him again or even ringing him and if you want to carry on training, you can stick to the roads near the house." "I promise I won't have any more contact – I was going to withdraw from the marathon anyway because I haven't really been training." For a while my husband continued interrogating me about the things Mike and I had done, with me answering as honestly as I could and soon after he ran out of questions, we went to bed. At first we lay with the same separation between us as before but suddenly, without any foreplay or even a word, he launched himself across the bed, roughly forced my legs apart and thrust himself inside me. His face had a ferocity I didn't know he possessed and 'brutal' is the only word to describe the way that he fucked me. For once he had no self control problems and the pounding seemed never ending. I suppose it was rape but I actually rather enjoyed it. Eventually Jim concluded and rolled off to lie gasping for breath but gradually this stilled. I thought he was asleep and had just allowed myself to start worrying about how Mike would feel finding I had stood him up, when my husband spoke. Talking so quietly that I had to strain to hear he said, "If you've been seeing him that long, you deserve the chance to say goodbye - so you can have your night away if that's what you want." I wanted to smother my wonderful, generous, understanding, loving husband with kisses of gratitude but at that moment he didn't seem to need affection. However, next morning a great weight seemed to have lifted from him and he felt able to respond to my almost constantly smiling face. "I've always known that this was inevitable but at least now I don't have it hanging over me any more," he said. "But I suppose now that I have to start worrying about losing you completely." "You are never going to lose me – as I told you before, I love you as much now as I ever have," I told him, trying to express as much meaning as I could. With the taxi waiting outside he accepted my loving kiss but as I broke away he held my arms and pulled me back to him. "If this Mike can give you so much more pleasure than I can, you don't need to end it with him. The only condition is that I want to meet him," Jim told me. Needless to say the taxi had to wait while we enjoyed another long embrace. I had been unable to meet up with Mike on the Thursday morning so I was relieved to find him already waiting at the hotel when I arrived. I quickly told him about developments, including the fact that I wouldn't be out be out running in the early morning any more but then I gave him the good news that we would still be able to see each other. I had wondered if he would be unwilling to meet my husband but Mike took the prospect in his stride. The sex was good as always and followed the same pattern but my lover achieved his ambition of going to sleep with us still connected. It was nice waking up to find I was in the process of being fucked and we even managed an encore before finally vacating the room. I arranged for Mike to come to the house on the following Friday evening. It seemed a long way away but it was the best day, for various reasons. Before parting I advised Mike not to be pushy and to instead hang back to let Jim dictate the pace of the confrontation. In one way the week dragged because although I was nervous about the meeting, I wanted it over and done with. In another way I enjoyed the return to a semblance of normal marriage because, for the first time in weeks, I had neither been with Mike that morning nor had the imminent prospect of being with him. When the bell rang that evening I ran to answer the door but I was conscious of Jim hovering some distance behind me. Mike walked straight past me and, ignoring my instructions, advanced quickly down the hall with hand outstretched saying, "How do you do. This is most generous of you." Jim grasped his hand in return and with seeming sincerity told him, "I'm pleased to finally meet – I've already heard so much about you." Mike set off with the quip, 'Only good things I hope' but thought better of it half way. To cover the glitch, my husband turned to me suggesting, "Perhaps you'd like to pour a drink for your...our guest." Once we were all three ensconced in the sitting room, although we were all on best behaviour, the conversation seemed surprisingly relaxed. After a short period, I had to leave the males together while I set out the food I had prepared but I think my ears must have been constantly pricked for the sound of raised voices. Jim had thoughtfully left out a bottle of his good wine. The topics discussed as we ate and afterwards, ranged through education, literature and even the latest political crisis – in fact everything but the reason we were gathered together. I said very little but the two of them chatted almost like old friends with both genuinely laughing at the others humorous asides. Then suddenly a silence fell and I desperately searched my mind for something to fill the gap but before I got the chance my husband stood up. "This may be bad manners," he began, "But I've got some work upstairs that needs sorting out. I'm afraid it's going to keep me busy for at least a couple of hours but I hope you will be able to manage without me." As he finished speaking there was a hint of a smile on his face but then he was gone, closing the door firmly behind him. Our hunger was such that Mike and I were tearing at each others clothes before my husband could have reached the top of the stairs. After such a gap the sex was fabulous with the only drawback being that I had to consciously restrain my cries of passion. I let my lover out of the house just short of the two hour mark then had a thorough shower and got into bed. After a few minutes, Jim entered the bedroom and stood looking down at me. I started thanking him for his tact but he held up a hand to stop me. "I want to see you and him together. I need to watch you having sex with him and then I might understand," he declared. I didn't like that idea at all and I was sure Mike wouldn't care for it any more than I did. Jim nodded at my objection but went on, "I've promised you can carry on seeing him but I want to limit that to you going to his house for two hours every week. On the other hand, if you agree to let me watch you fuck once a week, you can be with him on another two occasions. I might even agree to you spending the whole night with him occasionally. Ring him tomorrow, talk it over and let me know what you decide." Some time later Jim joined me in bed and I immediately rolled close to hold him and tell him how much I loved him. He returned my embrace but although I could feel his erection pressing against me, he made no move for sex of any kind and I eventually fell asleep. My husband had effectively made an offer we couldn't refuse, so after checking with my lover, I agreed to Jim's voyeuristic demands. Together we worked out a schedule where I could go to Mike's house on Tuesday and Saturday evenings after the kids were in bed but with the promise that I would return home to sleep. On Fridays my lover was to come to us when he and I would have sex while being watched. I hoped that this meant I could be with Mike the following Tuesday but Jim was insistent that the whole deal must start with his spectator evening. By agreement Mike arrived later than before and this time there was no chit-chat as we went straight up the stairs in procession with my husband in the lead. He and I had discussed where this should take place, with me preferring the guest room but Jim pointing out that was too near where the children were sleeping and besides, ours was by far the better bed. Once in the room, Jim grabbed a chair, placed it a short distance from the bed and sat upon it in the posture of someone waiting for the show to start. About to undress I instinctively started to turn away but recognised that, as both these men had already seen me naked, this was pointless false modesty. I removed my clothes in a matter of fact way and went to recline on the bed, trying to look relaxed. Looking over to Jim I threw him a reassuring smile, hoping to make eye contact but he was leaning slightly forward with his attention fixated on Mike's groin. Mike joined me on the bed but showed no inclination to start proceeding so I shuffled down the bed and took him in hand. My intent was to make it easy for my husband by doing no more than efficiently getting Mike aroused but then I reasoned that was not what Jim wanted to see, so instead I worked though almost all the techniques in my oral repertoire. I had expected to feel awkward having sex in front of a spectator but from the moment I was again under the mesmeric influence of that phallic snake, my husband disappeared completely from my mental radar. When I eventually lay back to let Mike take over, he too felt the need to put on a special performance and succeeded in giving me several body shuddering orgasms before releasing a gusher inside me of tsunami proportions. When I came back to reality it was to find that Jim had left his chair and was crouching close up at the side of the bed. Looking closely, I could see signs of hurt at what he had witnessed but this was almost hidden beneath the flush of intense excitement that suffused his face. I sought his eyes, hoping to re-establish mental contact, but his gaze was riveted between my legs with an almost fanatical gleam. Suddenly, without warning, his head plunged forward. Guessing his intention, I tried to stop him but was too late and, realising the battle lost, I actually spread my legs wider to give him easier access. In doing this I leaned back against my lover's chest and his arm came round me to cup my breast and squeeze the nipple. I turned my head to see his mouth approaching mine and I parted my lips to allow his tongue into my mouth for the first time. The pure perversity of the fact that as we kissed, my husband was happily sucking Mike's cum out of my cunt set my whole body on fire and I had an orgasm of such magnitude that for a few moments I hovered on the brink of blacking out. My husband suddenly jumped up and quickly left the room but what Mike had witnessed must have also inflamed him because, almost the instant that the space between my legs became vacant, he was again powering his rigid column of flesh into me. I don't think that Jim came back but I did rather lose track from that point. After the grand crescendo our intention was just to grab a few minutes recuperation time before Mike went home but when I was woken by the dawn chorus he was still asleep beside me. He quickly dressed and left and my investigation showed that Jim had bedded down in the spare room. That night established a pattern that was to last until almost the end of the year. I preferred those early pre-discovery weeks because I have to admit, with cheating the secrecy adds a certain extra excitement and there was a certain innocence to that earlier period, at least compared to what was to come. Also, I was now getting together with Mike only three times per week instead of the previous five and to make it worse, Jim stopped penetrating me at all. He had developed this fetish for licking me after I had been with Mike and on one occasion met me at the door the moment I got home from seeing my lover. I had to stand with one foot on a higher stair as he pulled the crotch of my panties aside and set his tongue to work. I can't blame him completely though. I know that it is rather sick but the activity also had a powerful effect on me that I found strangely compulsive. The bad side was that he always had his own climax in the midst of this feeding frenzy. Even on non Mike nights he could barely last two strokes and soon, after pleasuring me orally, he preferred to lie with face on my breast, playing with himself while I enthused about Mike's cock and how wonderful it felt inside me. It was certainly an unhealthy situation. School was normal, playing with the kids was normal and Jim did spend long hours doing something on the internet, but whenever we were together sex always permeated the atmosphere. Inevitably the date for Mike's fiancé to return drew ever closer. I guessed that he would be giving me a goodbye gift and I wracked my brains for something meaningful to give him. It's fortunate that my birth control is by quarterly injection because I had fantasies about millions of Mike's live sperm flooding into my unprotected fertile womb and I could have been very tempted to let him impregnate me. Eventually I purchased an antique millefiori glass paperweight to go on his desk. I particularly liked the way that from a certain angle the colours of the cut rod flowers inside formed my initial A. On the Friday of our final threesome, Mike gave me a beautiful necklace and even produced a special bottle of wine for Jim. In return he was very pleased with the paperweight. My husband said nothing at that moment but he later said I could spend all Saturday night at Mike's house. Up until then he had been resistant to me spending the whole night in my lover's bed but relenting for our last night was his gift to us. I would rather not speak of how Mike and I said goodbye except to say that we sadly agreed there should never be any kind of contact between us again. I had withdrawal symptoms for about a fortnight but the children's excitement and the Xmas festivities dulled the pain. On New Years Eve Jim and I toasted the future and when in bed, although rather inebriated, made love quite normally. I resigned myself to the fact that Mike had been an unrepeatable experience but one that had given me memories to last the rest of my life. All that I wanted now was for life to go back to how it had always been. For some reason that I still don't understand, starting a few days later Jim gradually changed. He began to heap me with the kind of reproaches that would have been far more understandable when he first found out and, during his almost daily often vitriolic recriminations, the words 'tart' and 'slut' and worse were liberally used. When we were just sitting quietly watching TV he would suddenly say things like, 'I don't know why you're not out trying to find yourself another huge cock' or 'there are men in this street you could have between your legs – if you haven't already'. It got so there was no contact between us, either sexual or emotional and it wasn't that he didn't still have needs because I once caught him masturbating in front of his PC. I stuck it out until the school broke up for half term and when Jim got home I was waiting with a bag packed. I told him sadly, "We're tearing each other apart so I'm going away for a few days to give us some breathing space. "Don't lie," he said. "You're on the hunt for a new lover and then you'll expect me to let you bring him home with you." "I don't want anybody else, love. All I want is for us to get back to how we used to be." "Do you honestly think that's possible?" he said. There seemed hope in the words but his bitter sarcastic tone said the opposite. I walked away. Tomorrow I go back home but I don't know if I still have a marriage to return to.