It was a perfect late spring morning. I laced up my running shoes and made the short drive to the reservoir. Two loops, counterclockwise, about seven and a half miles. I was in no rush and relished the rare chance to run this scenic route.
I’ve always felt a certain erotic aspect to running – the endorphins, the connection to nature, the feeling of health and fitness, and the scenery – the other attractive, fit runners. The reservoir route was particularly rich in the latter aspect, and today was no exception.
About a mile into the run, I found myself gradually gaining on a man and a woman running together. As I drew closer, I studied the woman’s backside. She was tall and slender, and her running tights accentuated her athletic physique – tight ass, shapely legs, and narrow exposed ankles.
I nodded and offered a greeting as I pulled up beside them, and they offered some friendly banter in return, so I slowed momentarily to their pace. As I looked over, I studied her, and then him. They seemed about my age – early 40s – and exuded that healthy look that many runners possess. For her part, the woman was very attractive – auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail, high cheekbones, cute little button nose, sparkling eyes, and a pleasant smile. I stole a couple of quick glances downward across her firm breasts (I would have guessed 34 B) and taut, partially exposed tummy. I also noticed the flash of a diamond on her left ring finger. A very attractive, all-American suburban wife.
Not wanting to bother them further, and with my curiosity sated, I returned to my pace and slowly began to pull away from them. As I did, they resumed their conversation, and I couldn’t help but eavesdrop.
“So, do you two have any big plans for this evening?” the woman inquired.
“Well, I don’t know if they’re big, but we’re getting together with one of Beth’s co-workers and her husband,” came the reply.
“Are they fun?” she responded.
“I’ve only met them once. They seem nice enough. How about you guys?”
“Just dinner out, the two of us…”
I pulled farther ahead, and they dropped out of earshot. Hmmm, I thought, married, yes, just not to each other. Never assume anything, I concluded.
Nearing the end of the first loop, I decided to cut into the woods on a much narrower and hence lightly used path that offered both a change of scenery and a chance to relieve myself. I ran for a bit and then walked off that deeper into the trees and underbrush and toward the water.
I found a discreet spot and, checking to make sure I wasn’t visible from the path, I pulled down my shorts and began to pee. I finished and was just tucking myself back in when I heard a rustling sound nearby. My heart jumped a bit, and I froze. Even though I was no longer exposed, I wanted to avoid the embarrassment of being seen. I figured I would wait until whoever was making the noise passed and then be on my way.
The noise came closer, and from my vantage point I could now see two people walking together. A man and a woman, holding hands. Curious, I shifted my position carefully to get a better look, satisfied that I was well hidden from them.
They stopped not fifty feet from me, turned, and embraced passionately. I held my breath.
It was the couple I’d passed earlier.
I could barely discern her soft moans as he ran his hands down her back and across her ass. She did the same, pulling him closer. Their kisses appeared deep and hungry.
My heart began to pound at the sight, and the thought of what was about to happen.
In a flash he pulled her running top up to expose her breasts. His fingers tweaked her nipples and he leaned forward to take one in his mouth as she threw her head back and ran her fingers through his hair.
He stood and took a step back. She dropped to her knees, untied the waistband of his shorts, and pulled them down. His cock sprang free, already erect, and she devoured it hungrily. Their dance was efficient and familiar. This was clearly not their first time.
My own cock was growing hard, and my groin ached as I watched her mouth bob up and down on his shaft. I reached into my shorts and began to massage myself, careful to keep my breathing as quiet as possible. I was leaking precum, and I reached farther down to massage my balls.
Abruptly, he reached under her arms, pulled her up, spun her around, and bent her forward. She reached for the tree trunk in front of her for support as he pulled her tights down. Grabbing his cock, he slowly guided it into her, stopping when he had bottomed out.
I could hear her slight whimper. I pulled my own shorts down and exposed my raging erection.
He began to fuck her, his pace quickening. I stroked my cock in time to his thrusts. I paused and, looking downward, carefully drooled saliva onto my shaft. I repeated that twice more and resumed stroking myself. The warm, slick fluid felt incredible against my skin, much like her juices must have felt against his.
My heart was hammering in my chest as I watched intently, edging myself, still not believing what I was witnessing. I was sure they were getting close. His hands reached around, fingers pinching her nipples. Her back arched and she pushed back into him. He grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled, wrapping his other arm around her exposed neck. He was pounding her furiously now and she opened her mouth to cry out just as his hand clapped over it to muffle the sound.
His face contorted in agony, and I pushed myself over the edge just as he buried himself and unloaded deeply inside her. My own eruption followed, huge jets of sticky white cum blasting forth one after another, coating the leaves of the bush behind which I hoped I was well concealed.
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” I thought, over and over, frightened by the sheer volume and force of my orgasm. I was panting and had to remind myself to stay quiet. He was leaning forward now, still inside her, and she turned to kiss him deeply. They stayed like that for a few moments before he withdrew. Without a sound she spun around, dropped to her knees again, and cleaned him. She stood and they kissed again while he reached between her legs. He dipped two fingers into her and appeared to scoop out some of his cum. She opened her mouth wide to receive his gift.
They shared one last cum kiss, pulled their clothes back into place, and hurried off toward the path.
I waited a few minutes and did the same. Having decided to cut my run short, I walked slowly back down the path through the woods toward the parking lot. As I was about to emerge, I saw them each getting into their cars. I hung back and waited for them to depart.
I quickly changed my mind and began to jog a lazy second loop to clear my head. As I ran, I pondered the wanton adultery I had just witnessed. My mind began to race, and I thought about my own wife, herself a runner who favored early morning runs. I wondered – could she, would she?
Nothing about her suggested, even remotely, that I had anything to be concerned about. But then again, nothing in the appearance of those two runners I had happened upon would have given any indication either. Still, my darling wife was so conventional in bed, not at all adventurous, preferring to make love and coo sweet nothings afterward. No, I thought, not her, not in a million years.
And yet, as I continued my run, I thought to myself, what if? How would I react? My first impulse, of course, was to be jealous, and more than a bit wounded, perhaps mortally. My chest tightened painfully in reaction.
But I loved her deeply, and if for some reason she wasn’t getting what she needed from me, wasn’t she entitled to some measure of sexual fulfillment? Perhaps I’d misread her, treating her like the Madonna when all she wanted was to be someone’s whore.
The more I pondered this, the more I felt my arousal returning. I began to picture her being fucked mercilessly by a strong, handsome man, screaming filth as she came over and over, begging him to mark her, to claim her, as he emptied himself into the space I thought she held sacred for me.
Before I knew it, I reached the end of the second loop. I walked to my car and drove home.
When I returned to the house, my wife’s car wasn’t there. A note on the counter said she had gone shopping and would be back around one. I would have the house to myself for at least another hour.
I walked upstairs into my office, pulled out my laptop, and began to search for “cheating wife porn videos”. I browsed page after page, site after site, in search of something particular. Finally, I found what I was looking for – a scene involving a pretty suburban housewife’s infidelity with a younger man. I stripped naked, reclined in my office chair, and let the scene play. Butterflies in my stomach, tightness returning to my chest, heart hammering, I touched my frighteningly hard, profusely leaking manhood.
The woman bore more than a passing resemblance to my own wife, right down to her partially shaved pussy. Her wedding ring was clearly visible, and my balls tightened as I watched her get fucked. She begged him to cum inside her, and that did it for me. The first jet must have shot three feet in the air before landing with a plop on my chest. The aftershocks went everywhere, and knowing I was alone, I screamed out my cheating slut wife’s name and collapsed back in a sweating, panting, cum-covered mess.
I lay there, unable to move, as the scene concluded. I watched, heart pounding, as they kissed romantically, his cum visibly oozing out of her. She finished by saying, “I’d better get back to my husband.”
The pang in my chest deepened, and my head began to spin.
“What if?”
