A First Time For A Cheat - Sex Stories

A First Time For A Cheat

You would never had thought how much temptation lurks around at a farm in the middle of nowhere. Paul and I had moved into the small estate at the outskirts of Hunter Village to escape temptation, to rid ourselves of city life with all the good-looking men and even, once or twice, equally good-looking women, who came onto me and whose allure and open flirtation I never could resist. I was a cheat, and I couldn’t help it. The small compliments people gave me just pushed a button inside me, and the fact that I found myself constantly horny on most days, from the moment I woke up until my eyes fell shut in bed, was not something I could influence. That Paul was usually away the whole week for work and only came home for the weekends didn’t help either. So, after Paul had caught me with Rosalie’s - our neighbor’s - gardener, he had declared it enough, and three weeks later, all our belongings had been stowed into a moving van and carted to this little former farm in the middle of nowhere, Arizona. “Clare,” he had told me in a no-nonsense voice before we made the decision - before he made it, and I followed along - and I could see the pain in his eyes, “this can’t go on. Perhaps the loneliness of the countryside and being among morally sound people there can finally make you keep your urges in check. I know that it’s going to be hard to move away from your friends, but please, I don’t want to come home all the time fearing that I’d find a stranger’s cock stuck up your pussy.” I ...

... had fallen to my knees, wrapped my arms around his legs and clung to him, sobbing and promising that I loved him and didn’t want to hurt him, and that I’d go along with whatever would help me. Perhaps he was right, I thought, and I just wasn’t made for city life and its constant flood of temptation. Morally sound people, my ass! I had believed that for all of two weeks - two long weeks though, ruled by unfulfilled need so strong that I caught myself rubbing the front of my panties or shorts, whatever I was wearing at the moment, every so often, fantasizing about the wicked encounters that had filled my lonely days and evenings. Only now that my body couldn’t find relief for its urges did I realize how much I had relied on that outlet for my needs. Then, early one morning, Bill from the hardware story delivered the order Paul had placed the week before. I raced outside when I heard the sounds of the engine and the wheels on the gravel. The moment that the barely eighteen-year-old climbed out of the truck and looked me up and down appraisingly, I knew I was in for trouble once more. He approached me with a lopsided grin, clad only in a serrate, armless t-shirt and navy blue shorts, waving a slightly crumpled list in front of himself, and my eyes got glued to the play of the impressive muscles of his shoulders. “Hi, Mrs. Goodprey. Got the wood and screws for the fence here that your husband ordered. Where should I put ‘em?” I swallowed hard. The front of the t-shirt rippled every ...