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

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

... me, much as they always had; Greg eliciting my views on this and that, Emily making passing comments and once asking how my studies were going. My studies were going very well, thank you. Frankly, I didn’t find them too taxing. There were others who seemed completely out of their element, but I never had any trouble grasping any of the finer points of my field of study. I did what I had to do, and spent the rest of my time thinking of Emily, thinking that I didn’t want to leave it too long before putting things to the test. Because it was a test, of Emily’s and Greg’s willingness as much as my own boldness. I’ve always found it true that fortune favours the bold. At this early stage in my life, I was still learning just how bold it was possible to be, and this new situation was also a test of the extent to which audacity could pay off. I’ve subsequently found that, while some circumspection is necessary, in the right company, being open about my proclivities opens doors. The words, “In my spare time I like to fuck other men’s wives,” makes men start to think, even if they’ve never thought that way before. The trick is knowing what the right company is. But I digress. Friday came around. Luckily it was one of those Friday evenings when Emily and Greg seemed content to relax, having nothing pressing that demanded urgent attention. They retired to the television room to watch something or other, and I gave it a little while before joining them. I forget what was on. I feigned ...

... interest for a little while, but mainly I looked at them. They sat side by side on a two-seater sofa, but stared intently at the screen, not touching at all, like you would expect married couples to do. Occasionally they exchanged some remark, Greg even asking me something once or twice. Eventually I transferred my attention exclusively to Emily. Greg had changed into casual clothes, but Emily was wearing the same kind of thing she always did; a blouse, navy blue this time, a black skirt and black nylons. I raked her over with my eyes, remembering the scene in my room, and then in the kitchen. I remembered the depraved look in her eyes as I fucked her. I sat there with a full-blown erection, long since having got over the sense that she wasn’t my type. I wanted to own her, to get her to do anything I wanted. Not that I was fooling myself. Emily would never let anyone own her, but from what she’d said in my room, I imagined she didn’t mind occasionally pretending to be more submissive than she was. I was further enflamed by the fact that she didn’t pay me any attention at all, though she must have been aware of how I was looking at her. Finally, I decided it was time to make my move. I stood up, taking the few steps necessary to stand two feet in front of her. I didn’t bother looking at Greg, though I knew he was looking at me. “You’re blocking my view,” Emily said coolly. I let my eyes slither all over her, as I calmly undid my belt and unzipped, pulling trousers and underpants ...