Category: Loving Wives Stories

Anatomy of a Teacher's Affair

by Bluepen451©

A September Day at the Motel

It was a warm day in early September. The air conditioner in the dodgy old motel was doing its groaning, rattling best, but the temperature in the room was still approaching eighty. Lynette was lying on her back, her legs spread as far as she could get them as her lover supported his upper body above her on his elbows and pounded away at her pussy with a series of hard rapid strokes that were pushing her ever closer to her second climax of the day. Her first climax had come half an hour earlier as Howard had lain between her legs lapping at her pussy with his talented tongue. She had gone off like a skyrocket after only a few minutes of Howard's oral pleasuring.

Lynette reached down and pulled her thighs back and up until she could wrap her legs around Howard and hook her heels into the small of his back. They were both coated in sweat, but neither noticed.

"Oh fuck!" she groaned as she felt his fat prick bottom out against her cervix. "Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she repeated as he maintained his rhythmic pounding. "You're going to make me cum again! Are you close?"

"Yeah. Kinda," Howard said between gasps. "Can you talk dirty to me? That always gets me off." The sweat was dripping off his brow, landing on her tits, but she wasn't noticing. Her world revolved around the thick prick stuffed in her cunt.

The first time Howard had asked her to talk dirty Lynette had been surprised. No lover had ever asked her to talk dirty. But then, she hadn't had that many lovers, so why not, she thought. As their affair continued it became a regular thing between them and, truth be told, she loved it. So nasty. But she never told Howard she enjoyed talking dirty to him, and she always made him ask—just 'cause.

"Oh fuck that's good. That's it—just keep reaming my cunt with that big dick of yours. Pound my pussy you stud. You're so fucking big. It feels like you're going to split my cunt in half."

"Fuck!" Howard responded as he continued to pound her. "That's it. That's just what I wanted to hear, you horny slut. Keep it up. I'm getting really close."

So was Lynette. As Howard spoke, Lynette was moaning and crying. She was so close now she wasn't sure she could talk coherently, but she would try. She wanted to feel his cum spurting into her as she climaxed.

"Yes, I'm your horny slut, Howard. Pound me. Pound your horny slut with that big hard cock of yours. Then cum. Cum and squirt that hot jism of yours into my cunt. My cunt wants to feel your prick flooding it with your hot cum."

Her lewd talk succeeded. Howard went rigid, with his cock buried as far into Lynette as he could get it. "Oh fuuuuuck! I'm cumming. AAAAAGH!"

She felt the first blast of his hot cum flood her pussy, and that set her off. Lynette screamed as her pussy contracted around Howard's still spurting cock. She used her legs, still wrapped around his back, to pull him ever deeper into her. It felt like someone had given her whole body a shock.

There was more groaning from Howard and screaming from Lynette as successive waves of heir orgasms ripped through them until they finally began to relax. She pulled her legs down and put her feet on the bed. Howard collapsed onto her chest and then tipped them to one side. They lay there—their chests mashed together, their legs tangled, and his slowly shrinking cock still delightfully filling her pussy. Neither said anything for a while as they gradually recovered.

Howard began to move his hips to remove his cock. "Oh no." she said lazily. "Not yet. It feels too good." She reached down and put a hand on his ass to hold him in place.

"Okay," he said sleepily.

Lynette nuzzled her face into the space where his neck met his shoulders and held him close to her until she realized he had nodded off to sleep. Then she relaxed and rolled on to her back, feeling regret as his cock slipped from her pussy.

She lay in silence for a long time, just staring at the ceiling.

"What on earth am I doing here?" she silently asked herself. "I'm a forty-year-old married woman with a husband, two teenage children, and a job as school teacher."

"I just spent the last hour fucking the principal of my school. And he's married. And we've been doing this regularly for months. How did it come to this?" she mused. As she lay naked on the motel bed, her lover sleeping soundly next to her, she could feel his cum dripping from her pussy and making a pool on the sheet beneath her.

She knew, of course, exactly the steps that had led her to be spending an afternoon in a cheap motel with her boss.

They had known each other for years. Howard had started out as a teacher about the same time as Lynette and they had worked together at the same school for fifteen years now. At some point he had gone into the management track and was now principal of her school. She liked teaching second and third graders and really didn't have any ambition to go beyond that. So Howard, the cute grammar school teacher she had known for years, was now her boss.

But now he was her lover too. How did that happen she asked herself? Yes, he was handsome and always paid attention to her and flirted with her. She enjoyed the attention and the flirting and returned it. But that had been going on forever, and it had never led to this until a few months ago. She always let Howard go just so far, just for the fun of it, and then made it clear to him that he was reaching her limits. Howard seemed to respect the limits she set. That was the way their relationship worked, until last winter's Christmas party, that is. Now she had been fucking Howard regularly for much of the last nine months—and she was thoroughly enjoying it, well, at least the fucking part. But she had begun to learn that having a successful affair required more than just great sex.

The Christmas Party

Lynette let her mind drift back to the beginning of her affair with Howard.

The Christmas party had been held for the whole school district in the ballroom of one of the bigger hotels in town. There were several hundred people there from schools all over town, most of whom were strangers to Lynette.

Her husband, Andrew, had refused to go—said he had too much work to do. That was typical of Andrew. Over the twenty years of their marriage, he had become increasingly self absorbed until he had reached the point of essentially ignoring Lynette and the children most of the time. They had fought over the party, and she had told him she was going to go on her own if he didn't want to come. He said, "Fine," and walked off to his home office.

It was a typical Andrew solution to a problem between them. When they couldn't agree about something, he just ignored her and did whatever he wanted. For the last few years he had been ignoring her generally. He was more like a roommate than a spouse, and not a very good roommate at that.

The other part of the problem with Andrew's treatment of Lynette was that they no longer had a sex life. He wasn't interested in even a peck on the cheek, much less a romp in the sack. Lynette didn't think about it much, but from time to time she remembered how good sex could be, and of late she found herself horny quite a bit of the time. Her trusty hands just weren't getting the job done anymore.

The couple's twin daughters were high school seniors who would leave for college in a few months. While they didn't show Lynette the outright hostility that Andrew did, they were typical self-absorbed teenagers. They wouldn't share their world with Lynette any more, and they weren't interested in hearing about her world.

In summary, the people who had needed and loved her for the first twenty years of her marriage no longer needed her or loved her. She was increasingly frustrated by her situation, but had no idea what to do to address her problems.

On the night of the party Lynette wore a dress that was, for her, more than a little daring. It was bright red, fit her round hips tightly, and stopped several inches above the knee. The dress showed off her legs and ass to perfection. Also the dress had a plunging neckline that exposed a lot of cleavage. Lynette had generous C-cup breasts, and they were well displayed in this dress. The outfit was completed with a string of pearls and a pair of Christmas-red stiletto pumps.

She was a little worried about whether it went too far and was hoping, unrealistically, for some feedback from Andrew. When she walked past Andrew on her way out of the house, he ignored her. Not so much as a "You look nice" or "Have a nice evening." She paused, thinking about asking him how she looked, but decided not to, because he would probably say something totally unhelpful and meaningless like, "Yeah great," and then retreat back into his Wall Street Journal. As she got into her car, she was fuming about what an asshole her husband was.

She was still annoyed with Andrew when she got to the party. As she wandered through the mass of partygoers, she downed two or three gin and tonics in fairly quick succession. Lynette wasn't normally much of a drinker, but after an hour she was feeling a little drunk, and she was enjoying it, even if the party was a bit boring. She also decided she no longer gave a shit about her husband's attitude.

That was when she ran into Howard. Thank god, she thought—someone to talk to. Unlike her husband, Howard definitely noticed her. They had only been talking for a few minutes when she realized that he had positioned himself so he could look down the front of her dress. How nice, she thought. I know he is a bit of lecher, but he at least appreciates me.

"Can I get you another drink?" he asked.

By now Lynette knew that she had probably had enough, but she let him, smiling as she said, "Of course. That's the best offer I've had all evening."

Howard responded, "Really? I'm sure I can you make you a better offer than that." His eyes twinkled as he flirted.

Lynette laughed at him. "Just the drink . . . for now." Lynette knew she really didn't need another drink but flirting with Howard was fun and she could always take a cab home.

When Howard returned, he started to hand a drink to her, but then he stepped back, holding both drinks, slowly looking her over from head to toe. "My, you look stunning tonight Lynette. Do a little turn for me so I can see all of you."

Typical Howard, she thought, but it's certainly better than my husband, who doesn't even look. She stepped up on one toe of her high heels and did a slow pirouette for Howard making sure she took enough time to let him appreciate the way the dress displayed her rounded hips. Lynette's hips were a bit broader than they had been when she had married, but they were still attractive when clad in a tight dress or pair of jeans.

When she finished her little turn she stepped towards him and reached out to take the drink he had brought her. She brought it immediately to her mouth and took a long pull on it. Hmm, she thought. It has a lot more gin than the others. Howard must know the bartender.

"Well?" she said looking at Howard, who was staring at her and uncharacteristically silent.

Her question got Howard back to his usual flirting mode. "Oh, stunning! Just stunning." He was almost salivating, and Lynette was thoroughly enjoying it. "But where is that husband of yours? He didn't let someone as beautiful as you are tonight go out on her own, did he?"

Lynette tossed down the rest of her drink and then stepped very close to Howard. "Howard," she said, "Whatever you do tonight, don't mention that asshole husband of mine. Not one more time. Do you understand?"

Normally Howard would have had some flirty response, but he was so taken aback by Lynette's obvious fury, he just said, "Oh. Ah . . . right. Got it."

"Now finish your drink and let's go dance."

This was the kind of invitation that Howard didn't ignore or need to hear twice. He tossed his drink down, grabbed Lynette's empty glass and smoothly deposited both glasses on a tray carried by a passing waiter. Then he wrapped an arm around Lynette and led her to the dance floor. She enjoyed the warmth of his arm around her waist and the way their hips bumped as they walked.

They danced several fast numbers and Lynette did her best to flaunt her assets so well displayed by the red dress. She was wearing a bra, but it was one of her less effective ones. She was getting real enjoyment out of feeling her boobs shake and watching Howard's total inability to tear his eyes away from them.

After three or four fast dances they retired to a table where they had another drink or two (by this time Lynette was incapable of keeping track of how much she had consumed). Howard had pulled his chair closely alongside Lynette's so they were touching from hip to knee. He had a hand resting on Lynette's knee. As they consumed their drinks they engaged in a meaningless conversation. If she had been asked later what they had discussed, Lynette wouldn't have been able to remember a word of it. The only thing she could remember from that evening was the warmth of Howard's hand on her leg.

When the band started a slow dance, Howard tore his eyes away from her cleavage and, looking deep into her eyes, said, "Shall we?"

They were well past the point where Lynette would usually have shut off Howard's advances and flirting, but tonight, well, maybe it was the drinks, and maybe it was her husband's conduct earlier in the evening, or maybe it was something else, but she simply smiled and said, "Of course." She rose from the table making a point of leaning toward Howard to display as much of her tits as she could. She seriously enjoyed the way he took advantage of her action by rising much more slowly from his chair than she did from hers. As they walked to the dance floor, Lynette noticed that she was feeling more than a little drunk and more than a little horny. The combined sensations were delightful to her.

The dance floor was crowded with other couples and Howard led her to the center of the floor. No one will see us in the middle of this crowd, Lynette thought. She put both arms around Howard's neck and plastered her body against his. God, she thought as her tits mashed against Howard's chest, I haven't been this close to a man in years. This feels really good.

They really couldn't do much in the crowd except sway with the music. The thing Lynette realized she could do was drag her tits back and forth across Howard's chest. It felt delicious. Howard reciprocated by letting his hands slide down to Lynette's ass. As he pulled her tight against him, she could feel an erection under his pants pressing against her belly. Then he leaned down and kissed her, a sloppy wet kiss with plenty of tongue. This was certainly going well beyond the usual limits Lynette set on Howard's flirting, but she was enjoying it and was not about to tell him to stop.

The kiss felt like it was going to go on forever, or at least Lynette hoped it would. But it didn't. It came to an abrupt halt when she felt a tap on her shoulder and looked back to see a tall, attractive, dark haired woman standing behind her. She was not smiling.

"Excuse me, but may I cut in. I would like to dance with my husband."

Lynette jumped back from Howard as if he were on fire. As she moved Howard's hands slid quickly off her ass. Then they were apart with Howard doing his pathetic best to put a good face on a bad situation by introducing them as if nothing had happened.

"Oh, Mary," he said smiling, "This is my colleague from school, . . ."

"I know who she is," Mary snapped as she stepped between them. She and Howard danced away from Lynette leaving her standing by herself in the middle of the floor. Lynette stood for a moment, watching in shock and ignored by everyone, and then fled from the dance floor.

Oh my god, she thought. What have I done? What was I thinking? I knew Howard was married. Why didn't it occur to me that she might be here? If I saw some woman doing that with my husband, I would crucify him. Well, maybe not Andrew, since I don't like him anyway. He can play around all he likes for all I care, but given his lack of interest in sex, I doubt if he would anyway. But what have I done to poor Howard. His wife is going to give him hell about this. We weren't fucking on the dance floor, but we were getting about as close to it as you can and still have all of your clothes on. Her randy attitude of a few minutes earlier had turned to guilt and remorse.

Lynette walked off the dance floor shaking her head and worrying about what she had done to Howard. The fact that Howard was an obviously willing participant just wasn't registering with her at this point. She got her coat from the cloakroom, thought for about three nanoseconds about driving home, and then headed straight for the cabstand at the main door of the hotel. She was in no shape to drive, and she knew it.

Half an hour later Lynette was home. It wasn't really that late. Just a bit short of midnight. She paid off the cabby with the cash she had in her coat and tottered up the short rise of stairs and the path to her front door. To her surprise the front door was locked. That was when she remembered that she had left her purse and her keys in her car, counting on the access code on the car door to get her in and the cash in her coat pocket to cover drinks and anything else she needed.

Now she was standing on her front doorstep on a cold December night with no keys to open a locked door. She tried the doorbell—no response. She tried pounding on the door. Still nothing. Andrew was asleep, out of the house, or ignoring her. Probably the latter she thought, as she stepped out of her spiked pumps and walked barefoot through the cold, wet grass around to the side door to the garage. There was always a key buried beneath a rock next to the door.

Once she got the key, it still took her a bit of fumbling to get the door unlocked. God, I'm drunk, she thought. Eventually she got the door open and used the same key to get herself from the garage into the kitchen. She noticed that Howard's car was still in the garage, so that narrowed the possible explanations of his failure to answer her to being asleep or ignoring her. She was still betting on the latter. The lights were on in the kitchen and the living room. Another sign that Andrew hadn't gone to bed. Son of a bitch, she thought.

She stood for a moment at the foot of the stairs and thought about whether she really wanted to climb up the stairs to get to their bedroom. "No, not really," she told herself. "Those stairs are just too much work in my condition. I'll sleep on the couch." With that impeccable logic, she staggered back through the now-darkened living room and collapsed on the couch. After all, it's not like Andrew cares about where I sleep, she thought just before she drifted off.

Lynette awoke in the morning with a nasty hangover. She rose and staggered barefoot into the downstairs powder room. She was none too happy with the apparition looking back at her from the mirror. Hair a mess, make-up worse, and somehow the red dress that had looked so good last night had kind of a trashy flavor to it now. Not much, but just enough to make her question her judgment. "Coffee," she told herself. "Coffee and ibuprofen . . . and then a shower. And then a warm comfy set of sweats. That's what I need."

She headed for the kitchen to find the first two items on her list. Much to her dismay, she also found Andrew sitting at the kitchen table sipping his coffee while he read the morning paper. He looked up at her and smiled a weak, almost sarcastic, smile.

"Late night dear?" he asked.

"Actually, no. I was home by midnight. I just couldn't get in the house because you had locked up and didn't answer the doorbell."

Category: Loving Wives Stories