How I Acquired My Taste For Fucking Other Men's Wives - Sex Stories

How I Acquired My Taste For Fucking Other Men's Wives

... There were no restrictions placed on my movement in their home, and I enjoyed roaming the rooms, indulging my inquisitive streak. Anyway, it was May 1989 when the important stuff began to happen. I remember it well, because a large part of my future was influenced by that which began then. That part of my life that I enjoy more than any other; my insatiable appetite for fucking other men’s wives. It was an unusually hot May, as I remember it. This particular day it was certainly sweltering. I’d spent the best part of the day at the library, sweating buckets. In those days there was no internet, so study required actually pouring over dusty or not so dusty tomes. By four I was back home, and immediately went through to the kitchen for something cold to down with a handful of ice cubes. Quaffing the drink in one, I saw through the kitchen window that the door to the shed at the bottom of the garden was open. That was odd. There was a gardener who came in, a retired man we knew as Hodges, who supplemented his pension money on the side, but he was usually long gone by four. With nothing better to do, I decided I might as well check to make sure there was nothing untoward going on. The sun beat down as I crossed the lawn. And then, as I closed in on the shed, I heard the sounds. They were unmistakable sounds. I quickly darted to one side, taking a little detour to avoid being seen, though I doubted I would be. There was a small window in the side of the shed, almost completely ...

... covered in grime, but not quite enough to prevent me from seeing what was going on, once I’d sidled up to it along the side of the shed. I could easily identify the voice from the open door before I saw anything, “Oh yes! That feels so good!” It was Emily. Peering in at the window, I saw the woman bent over, hands gripping the handles of the lawnmower Hodges laboriously shunted around once a week. Her skirt was up around her waist and her knickers pulled to one side. The man banging her from behind was indeed the gardener. It was like Lady Chatterley’s Lover, or it would have been if the gardener had been a handsome young stud instead of the old man. Mind you, Emily seemed to go for old man’s cock. “Yes, yes, yes!” she cried. “Oh yes! Give it to me! Give it to me!” I wish there was more to report, but all that happened was that Hodges kept on banging Emily until she urged him, “Oh yes! Fill me right up!” As soon as the dirty old man had spunked inside her and pulled out, Emily snapped her knickers back into place, pulled her skirt down and turned around. “I think that will be all for today, Hodges,” she said. “You’ve performed magnificently.” “Happy to oblige,” the man said. If he’d have had a cap, I’m sure he’d have doffed it. I sped back to the house and went to my room. I was more intrigued by what I’d seen than shocked. Even at that age I had no illusions about fidelity and such. I knew that some people did, but I also already realised that theory is one thing and reality ...