My Wife Marcia? Part Two - Sex Stories

My Wife Marcia? Part Two

I trudged down the empty streets, seeking to get as far as possible from the hell that I once called home. No words could justly describe what I was feeling that night, but it felt as if my wife had reached in and torn my heart from my chest. My wife of seven years was a cheating slut! I had not only witnessed Marcia getting her pussy thoroughly pumped by my best friend, but I had done nothing to stop it. Memories of Marcia being impaled by his cock insidiously filled my head. Before I knew it, I found myself several blocks away from home. The cold wind was gently blowing the sickly smell of asphalt from a dark alley that even criminals would avoid. My mind was drifting into a state of denial. I could be an asshole at times, so who am I to judge a cheater? "Richard, you have to snap out of this," I mumbled to myself like a crazy person. I was always faithful to that bitch! Sirens blared in the distance.The thud of my own footsteps kept me alert on the lonely streets. It was 2:30 a.m. when the neon lights of a motel that Marcia had always hated got my attention. I was very fatigued as I stumbled through the door of the motel and booked a room for two nights. Into the elevator I went, and got out on the second floor, in search of room number twenty. After struggling with the lock for a few minutes, I managed to boot the door open and strode in with the remains of my pride. My attention was suddenly placed on my phone as it vibrated in my pocket. It was a text from Marcia. ...

... Message from Marcia 2:47 am: Hope you arrived safely babe. I can’t sleep. Please, call when you get this . 2:48 am : Hey! I can see that you read my message. Along with anger, this triggered flashbacks of Marcia, bent over and being fucked senseless by Lucas. I pictured the way her moist pussy squeezed his cock as he ploughed her, missionary style. Her moans consumed my head. I visualized the relentless pounding, their sweaty bodies rubbing against each other as they gasped for air. She’s delusional, I thought to myself. How could she be so deceitful? Minutes went by and I drifted to sleep without responding. The loud honking of what must have been a big rig awoke me at 6:00 a.m. The sharp sun peeked into the room, as I rubbed a hand along the nightstand, in search of my cell phone. My mind was urging me to call and let her have it, but my heart was not ready for that conversation as yet. It was 7:00 a.m. when I left the motel, in search of breakfast. A broad smile came over my face when I noticed a familiar person coming out of a dry cleaning store at the end of the block. Her hips swayed slightly as she approached me, suit bag in hand. She was a picture of perfection and the sweet, fruity scent of her perfume intoxicated me. “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?” said Maxine. “I'm just looking for decent breakfast,” I replied. “Here I am, late for work and you’re searching for breakfast in my territory. I'm just pulling your leg,” she said, slapping me on the right ...