For years, I had been in a great marriage with my husband and two kids. I had everything I wanted and needed, at least from an outside perspective. What nobody seemed to notice was that I was often lonely with my husband consumed by his job and my kids involved in a variety of extracurricular activities. There was nobody I could complain to, I had it better than most, and didn't want to seem ungrateful.

More than the loneliness, it was my unfulfilled sexual desires that frustrated me and made me wish for a different life. Before getting knocked up by my husband, I had been very outgoing and even promiscuous. I wasn't built for the housewife role. It made me feel like a bird trapped in a cage.

I spent my days tidying up the house, running the usual errands, working out and milking several orgasms out of my clitoris when the frustration pent up. I owned a drawer full of sex toys, so I could use a different one every time, but it just wasn't the same as having real sex.

It wasn't until my thirty-fourth birthday that things changed when Dan brought me a gift on behalf of my husband. I greeted him at the door after showering, with only a towel wrapped around my body.

"Happy birthday. Just dropping this off," he said, handing me the gift box.

He was my husband's best friend, who I had just happened to fuck back in college during a drunken night and who still gave me lascivious looks. The odd time we were alone with each other, he never failed to sprinkle flirting and compliments into our conversations.

"Thank you, Dan," I said.

"I, er, got time for a coffee," he said.

"Look at me, I'm not even dressed, but nice try," I said, flashing a smile.

"You got too much on if I'm honest," he said, placing his hand on the door frame.

The good wife in me had been in control of years but my depraved side saw an opportunity and seized it, leaving me at the mercy of my carnal desires.

"Come in, I got something for you," I said, biting my lower lip as the last bit of hesitation disappeared.

I longed for attention and excitement in my life and was too weak to turn him away this time. I let him in and dropped my towel as I bent over to place my husband's gift on the living room table.

He eagerly pinned me down on the couch, alternating his mouth on my nipples and kissing his way down until his breath was directly over my swollen labia. He spread my legs open and teased me by kissing around my pussy. once he saw my juices drool out, he buried his face between my thighs. He licked, flicked and swirled his tongue all around my hotness, moaning as he savored my taste. I closed my eyes and used his tongue like a sex toy, pressing on the back of his head when I wanted a certain spot stimulated.

He pressed his flat tongue against my sphincter and licked all the way up to my engorged clitoris. He traced circles around it, then sucked on it, flooding his mouth with my nectar. This was his way of giving my convulsing pussy a break while continuing to pleasure me.

He stood up, reached forward to align his mouth with mine. I opened wide and stuck my tongue out, inviting him to spit my own sex juices into my mouth. He did just that, allowing me to taste the fruit of my depravity.

"I can tell he doesn't eat your pussy," he said, returning to his position.

I swallowed the result of my lustfulness and asked, "Yeah, how would you know?"

"You wouldn't be this fucking wet," he said.

He was right, my husband wasn't the type to go down and satisfy my cravings. In fact, while he made me feel loved, he didn't make me feel desired.

I held my legs open for him this time, which freed up his hands to fondle my breasts and pinch my erect nipples. He continued edging me with his tongue until I was squirming and begging for more.

Suddenly, the stimulation stopped. I looked down between my legs, clenching my holes as I watched him remove his clothes and spring his cock free.

He positioned himself between my legs and placed his length on top of my abdomen to show me how deep it would go.

"You remember what it feels like?" he asked, simulating a fucking motion that made his tip graze my belly button.

Before I could respond, my pussy did so for me, contracting and letting out another stream of juices.

He ran his tip along the length of my slit and tapped it over my clit. He repeated that several times, making me squirm with anticipation. I dug my fingernails into my thighs and urged him by spreading my legs wider.

He penetrated me, plunging his cock into the pressure of my depths and stretching me out just like he had done all those years ago. I welcomed the fullness inside of my delirious, wanton warmth.

"Fuck, you're still so tight," he said.

As a woman who had given birth and was now in her mid-thirties, I had worked to strengthen my pelvic floor muscles and tighten my vagina with various kegel exercises. It was good for my sexual health, but in all honesty, I just loved having a grip that rivaled college girls.

He pulled out three-fourths of his length from my reluctant pussy and stuffed it back in with a single thrust. He began working his hips, stimulating my most erogenous zones that made my natural lubrication run down onto his cock. There was something about the sting of the profound penetration that contorted my face in ways my husband had never seen.

"Ohmm, I needed this," I confessed, feeling guilty, not about cheating on my husband but about not succumbing to my lust sooner.

I had tried all the top vibrators and dildos on the market but nothing compared to the warm, throbbing feeling of having a man's rigidness stuffing my pussy.

A mini-orgasm shot through my body, igniting my flesh and flushing my face and upper chest, accompanied by a gush of juices that splashed against his lower abdomen. My walls contracted, begging him for a mutual release, but he had excellent orgasm control that allowed him to keep pounding.

He buried his cock deep inside my convulsing walls then resumed the punishment my married flesh deserved. The ravaging turned the world into a blurry background and the living room into the main stage. In this performance, I wasn't a mother or wife, I was a woman overdosing on pure, uninhibited sexual ecstasy.

The thrashing of my guts forced repeated mini-orgasms out of me that made me lose track of time. However, I could relax knowing that my husband was at work, and I could fully enjoy the impromptu birthday gift without the risk of getting caught.

My moans intensified, giving his tiring body a boost as he knew I was approaching an explosive orgasm.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I asked, feeling his left hand wrapping around my neck.

"Don't act like you don't want it," he said, applying pressure on my neck with his fingertips. "Listen to how fucking wet you are."

I squirmed, hearing the sound of my squelching wetness filling the room. The restriction of oxygen heightened my arousal, making my pussy grip his cock just as tightly as he was squeezing my neck.

He knew how to push my boundaries and escalate my arousal. It was like he was inside my head reading through my darkest fantasies. My body surrendered to his conquering sex, something it had never done for my husband.

He let go of my neck, giving me a feeling of euphoria as oxygen rushed back through my body. He placed his left thumb directly over my clitoris and rubbed it in a circular motion. The combination of internal and external stimulation pushed me over the edge.

For a second, my entire body tensed up, causing my back to arch and my toes to curl. I clenched my teeth to brace for the waves of satisfaction that were about to crash over me. Suddenly, my body collapsed, releasing a powerful body-shaking climax.

My cries of pleasure reverberated through the house, making it clear that I would not renounce my immorality. In this moment of orgasmic bliss, my guilt dissipated in favor of my body reveling in its wickedness.

My pussy convulsed in unison with my body, milking his spurting cock and flooding itself with his hot, virile seed. As a bit of his load overflowed and seeped into my rear entrance, my orgasmic juices forcefully gushed out, showering him from his chest down to the base of his cock.

As soon as our bodies came down from our orgasmic heights, reality set in and we found ourselves hurrying to close our first adulterous escapade.

"You should come over for coffee more often," I said, smiling as I felt his cum dripping down my inner thighs.

"Oh, will do. Just have it hot and ready by the time I get here," he said, returning a smile on his way out.

It wasn't how I had envisioned my birthday going, but I spent the rest of the day hearing the arguments from my opposing dualities. By the time my husband got home, I had settled on a compromise. I wanted the best of both worlds, to be a housewife and a slut. He was my husband's best friend, and he could be mine too.