Anatomy of a Teacher's Affair

"Oh, then that explains the garage key on the counter there. So you came in late and had to go through the garage. But tell me dear, why were you sleeping on the couch this morning?"

Lynette ignored his question because she disliked his tone and because she didn't want to tell him she was too drunk to get up the stairs. Eventually she responded, a little lamely, "Well, since you didn't let me in, I assumed you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you."

"Whatever," he said dismissively as he stood, folded the paper, and tucked it into his briefcase.

It never occurs to him that I might want to read the paper, she thought.

Andrew turned and started for the door to the garage. He opened it, and seeing that her car was not there he said, "I trust you can at least remember where you left your car. I won't be home until late tonight, so you should probably get a cab to fetch it. Oh, and don't forget to put the garage key back under the rock. Never know when you might need it again." Without waiting for an answer, he slammed the door and left.

Lynette poured her coffee and sat at the table, her head in her hands. Part of it was the hangover and part of it was her despair over the shambles her marriage had become. Later, as she stood in the shower letting warm water pour over her head, she told herself that, as far as anything she owed Andrew, she felt absolutely no guilt about what she had been doing with Howard the night before. There was the nagging question of Howard's wife, however.

As she stood naked before the mirror in her upstairs bath she told herself, "Okay, I am fully prepared to go outside the bounds of my marriage for a sex life, but I'm not sure I want to be a home wrecker. Howard and I will have to talk."

The Affair Begins

The Christmas party had been on the last day of fall term so she didn't have an opportunity to see Howard until school resumed in January. For the first few days, she didn't run into him, at least not in a place where they could have the conversation she wanted to have.

But on Thursday of that week she had worked an extra hour after all the students had left, preparing lesson plans and the like. It was snowing hard as she walked across the mostly empty parking lot. The wind was howling. Just as she hit the button on her key fob to unlock her car she heard Howard's voice over the wind. "Lynette, wait." She turned to see him walking toward her leaning into the wind and the driving snow. "Lynette, we have to talk," he said when he finally reached her.

"Not in this, we don't," she said as she pulled the driver side door open. "Get in the other side."

Now they were both in the car, their hair and faces wet from the snowstorm, and their breath rapidly fogging the cold windows. Lynette started the engine and was about to put the defroster on full when Howard spoke.

"About the Christmas party . . ." Howard said.

Oh god, Lynette thought. Is his wife divorcing him? She had been worrying about Mary for three weeks now. She interrupted Howard before he could finish his sentence. "Oh, Howard, I'm so sorry. I had too much to drink, and I didn't know your wife was there. I know those aren't good excuses for my conduct, but it's all I've got."

Howard just stared at her for a moment. Then he reached across the car and pulled Lynette to him for a long sloppy wet kiss—just what they had been doing at the Christmas party before they were interrupted. Lynette's first thought was no, no this is wrong. What will his wife say? When she tried to pull back Howard just held her tight and intensified the kiss. Finally he let her go and leaned back. "God you're sexy," he said.

"But Howard. What about your wife? Look. I know my marriage is a mess and I've no qualms about being an adulterer, but I'm not a home wrecker. What if your wife finds out about us?" Later it occurred to her that this was the moment when she had told Howard she wanted to sleep with him. She didn't even make him ask.

"It's simple," Howard responded. "My wife doesn't care who I sleep with as long as it isn't her and I'm reasonably discreet about it. I guess you could say that Mary and I have an 'open marriage.' Years ago we each discovered more or less at the same time that the other was cheating. We tried yelling for a few days and concluded that wasn't going to get us anywhere. Since then we have followed what I call a "don't ask, don't tell" policy. I know she screws around, and she knows I screw around, but as long as we are discreet, neither of us cares and we don't discuss it.

"Why are you still married?"

"It's simple—economics. Divorce is expensive. The lawyers bleed you dry and we can live much better in one house on two salaries than either of us could in our own separate house on a single salary. We still get along, more or less as roommates, I guess, but our sexual preferences lead us to others."

"That's a very unusual arrangement, Howard," Lynette said.

"I know it is, but it works for us. I suppose that one of these days one of us will fall in love and we will have to untangle things."

"So you're not in love with me?" Lynette asked. She knew what the answer was. She just wanted to make Howard uncomfortable, and she did.

"Really, so early in our relationship? After just one kiss?"

"Relax Howard. I'm not in love with you either. But by the way it was two kisses—last month and a few moments ago in this steamed-up car."

"Oh right. Math never was my strong suit." He looked very relieved to learn that she had just been busting his chops.

"Well, I would have expected you could at least count to two, but why don't we make it three. We can lose count after that." As she spoke, she leaned forward and took his still-dripping face in her hands and pulled him in for a kiss. This one was longer than both of the first two, and while they kissed Howard managed to open her jacket and slide his hands in to fondle her breasts through the blouse she wore beneath the heavy coat. Oh, thought Lynette, there's something else no one's done to me in way too long. Howard's fondling was lighting a fire in her groin that she really wanted him to fan to a raging blaze and then extinguish.

Lynette pushed him back and dragged her wet hair out of her eyes. She reached forward with one hand and began stroking his cock through his trousers. "You know, Howard," she said as she stroked his hard cock, "there must be a better place we could make love than in this steamed-up car. I haven't done that since I was in high school."

"Oh shit, that feels good," he said. "I bet you were good at it, too."

"Good at what?" she asked, pretending not to understand what he meant.

"Good at fucking in a steamed-up car," Howard responded.

Lynette laughed as she pulled her hand back from Howard's cock. "Oh not really," she said. "I fooled around a little, but I didn't really appreciate sex until I got into college."

"But you appreciate it now?" Howard asked. As he spoke he resumed mauling her tits with one hand.

"Oh yeah. I appreciate it now. I'm just not getting any lately." Her breath caught at the end of her statement as Howard pinched one of her nipples through the clothing covering it. "Oh fuck!" she said. "That feels really good. But there's gotta be a better place we can go."

"When?" he asked.

"How about now!" she hissed as he continued to pinch her nipple.

"You don't have to get home to Andrew?"

"He's out of town . . . Oh, that feels good."

She resumed stroking his cock. "And my daughters are at a sleepover."

"Okay," he said. "I know a place. Put the defroster on and let's go."

They kissed again while the defroster cleared the windows enough so Lynette could drive. While they kissed, Lynette continued to stroke Howard's cock through his trousers, and Howard continued to fondle her tits. Eventually one of them managed to open their eyes long enough to see that the windshield had cleared. They untangled themselves so Lynette could drive, and she carefully piloted the car out of the snow-slickened parking lot and onto the street.

Howard directed her to a cheap motel a few blocks away. It was just a single strip of rooms, two stories high and in need of paint. There was a rundown looking office at one end and a neon sign displaying its name with a couple of letters burned out. Very classy, Lynette thought sarcastically as she pulled into a parking space in front of the office. Howard stepped out of the car and ducked through the storm into the office.

As she sat waiting Lynette's mind was spinning like a top. First and foremost, she was horny—so horny. Howard's cock had felt like a pretty big one through his trousers, much bigger than Andrew's and she wanted her pussy filled with it. Oh how she wanted that. She was also focused on how nasty what she was doing was—sneaking off to a cheap motel for sex with another woman's husband. She had never done anything like this in her life. She hadn't really even imagined doing anything like this. But instead of making her feel guilty or reluctant to go ahead, it was simply stoking her lust.

Then Howard was back, key in hand. "We're down at the end and upstairs," he said.

Lynette backed out of the parking place and drove the short distance along the strip of rooms. "Park around on the side. That way no one will see your car from the street."

"Oh yeah, sure," she responded as she continued around the end of the building. Hmmm, she thought. Howard seems to have more experience at this sort of thing than I do. I guess I shouldn't be surprised at that.

She turned the engine off and immediately leaned over to begin kissing Howard again. Now she had both hands stroking his cock. After a moment Howard pulled back. "Wait. Wait, baby. Let's go inside. That's what this is for," he said as he dangled the key in the air. It was the old-fashioned style with a plastic fob with the name and address of the motel on it and a guarantee of postage if you forgot to turn it in and simply threw it in a mailbox. It spoke volumes about the quality of the motel.

His good sense finally penetrated into her lust-fogged brain. She threw her keys in her purse and stepped out into the storm. Oh god, it's cold, she thought. The wind was howling, and it was whipping her coat—unbuttoned to permit Howard's earlier groping—away from her. Howard wrapped an arm around her and led her back to the front of the building. The wind and snow were blowing even harder as they climbed the open iron stairs that led to the second floor. As soon as they reached the top of the stairs, Howard turned to the left and used the key to let them into the first door at the end of the building.

Lynette had been planning on throwing herself at Howard as soon as the door closed, but she delayed. Instead, she strolled into the room looking it over as she slowly peeled off her coat. So this is what a sleazy motel for an afternoon of illicit sex looks like, she thought.

She had seen cheap motel rooms before, but never in this context: there was a queen-sized bed, of course; the walls were a non-descript beige color as was the carpet, except that it had several stains not on the walls; the duvet cover on the bed was equally bland in color (a pale green) and had a tired look to it; there were a couple of very mediocre mass-produced prints on one wall, cheaply printed and beginning to fade; and a floor-to-ceiling mirror on the wall opposite the bed alongside a TV set sitting on a low piece of furniture. The TV was chained to the furniture it sat on by a steel cable and the controller was locked into a clamp on the bedside table.

She walked to the windows, pulled the curtains open, and stood staring at the storm raging outside. There really wasn't much to see through the swirling snow. The building behind the motel sat about twenty yards back from the fence line and had no windows—perhaps an aging minor manufacturing plant. A stack of tired-looking, mostly broken pallets sat along a portion of the wall.

There was a heating unit below the window. Lynette reached down and turned the heat up. The cheap heater roared to life. She smiled as she remembered that her father used to call such units, "window rattlers." She left the curtains open as she turned and strolled slowly back towards Howard, who was leaning against a wall watching her inspection with interest.

"Don't you want to close the curtains?" he asked. "For privacy."

"No, I don't think so," said Lynette as she strolled past him into the bath. It was small, but had all the standard equipment—toilet, sink, mirror, and a shower/tub arrangement that probably wouldn't perform either function very well. As she stood before the mirror in the bath she thought, yes, this will do nicely for the start of an affair.

Continuing to watch herself in the mirror, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. She pulled the tails out of her skirt, shrugged it off her arms and shoulders, and let it drop to the floor. Then she reached behind herself and released her bra, letting it follow the blouse to the floor. She stood, half naked and held her tits in her hands as though offering them to someone in the mirror.

This was followed by her skirt and panties, all in a pile around her feet. She kicked off her pumps and turned to face Howard who had been leaning against a wall outside the bath watching her strip. Lynette walked silently past him and then lay naked on the bed, making no effort to cover herself. After a moment she sat up, her legs spread apart and her feet on the floor. "Come here, Howard," she said. "I want to suck your cock." It didn't escape her notice that her language was cruder and more explicit than she had ever used before, but she didn't care. It fit her randy mood perfectly.

Howard walked over and stood fully dressed before her. She released his belt and the zipper on his trousers and let his pants fall to the floor around his feet, followed quickly by his briefs. His cock, fully erect, bobbed before her. She had been right. It was longer and bigger around than her husband's cock. Not like some kind of porn star, but still a very respectable cock.

Howard reached down and placed his hands on the sides of her head, his fingers entangled in her long brown hair. "Suck it," he said. It was a command, not a request. Typical Howard, she thought, but what the hell? That's why she was here—for the sex she hadn't been getting at home for years. Besides, before her marriage, she had always liked sucking cock. But it had always been off limits with Andrew.

Lynette reached out with her tongue and just touched the end of Howard's cock. As she pulled her tongue back, a thread of the precum leaking from his prick came with her tongue. It tasted good. She hadn't tasted that in a long time. She quickly leaned forward again and used her tongue to lick the head of his prick, just below the head where it joined with the shaft. Howard gasped and flexed his hips. That was the most sensitive spot on a man's prick. Lynette had learned that years ago.

As she finished bathing the head of Howard's cock with her tongue, Lynette wrapped the fingers of her right hand around the shaft and began to stroke it. God, it is big, she thought. I can't quite get my fingers around it.

"Oh fuck, that feels good," he said. "But I want you to suck it." He emphasized his words by pulling her head forward. She responded by engulfing his cock with her warm, wet mouth. She had been saving up saliva over the last few moments so her mouth was extra wet when he entered her. She let much of the saliva escape and run down the sides of his shaft. Now as she pumped his cock in and out of her mouth, she could use that saliva as a lube as her hand stroked the significant length of his shaft she couldn't accommodate in her mouth.

Howard was silent. Lynette looked up at his face as she sucked and stroked his cock. His head was back and his eyes were closed. Lynette pulled her head back so she could talk. "Is that good, baby?" she asked. She used both hands in a twisting motion to stroke his dick as she talked. "Are you close to cumming baby? I want you to cum on my tits. Can you do that for me? Are you close yet?"

Howard's only response was a groan that Lynette took as a yes to all questions. She leaned forward again and began sucking, but in just a few moments she felt him stiffen as though he was about to lose control. She pulled back and sat up straight so his cock pointed at her tits. Then Howard began to cum. He groaned and said, "Fuuuuuck!" as his prick shot stream after stream of hot, slippery, white cum on her breasts.

Lynette fell back on the bed and sensuously rubbed Howard's cum into her tits. God that was fun, she thought. I haven't done that since I was in college. My stupid husband just never could get into oral. She looked up at Howard, still standing before her, with his wilting prick hanging between his legs. "I want you to fuck me now, Howard. Can you do that?"

"Just give me a few minutes to recover," he said. "God, you can really suck cock." He was slowly stripping the rest of his clothes off.

"It's like riding a bicycle," she said. "You never forget once you learn."

"Well, somebody sure taught you well," he replied as he flopped down on the bed beside her. They were both naked now.

"Let's get under the blankets," Lynette said. "It's cold in here, and that window rattler isn't getting the job done." In a moment they were beneath the blankets and wrapped together in a long, sensual kiss. She could feel his cock growing against her belly.

Howard eventually pulled back from the kiss and dropped his head to Lynette's breasts, which he had been fondling throughout the kiss. Now he began to use his tongue to lick her nipples while he continued to fondle her breasts with both hands.

"Oh god, Howard. That feels so good. Oh yes, yes! Keep that up!"

Howard was now crouched beside her on his knees licking and sucking on her nipples. Lynette was lying on her back. Her head was flopping back and forth as Howard's treatment of her nipples was driving her wild. She couldn't really see what he was doing because her hair was almost completely covering her face. But she could certainly feel what he was doing. Her legs were spread wide apart with her knees bent and her feet flat on the bed. The blankets and sheet were somewhere on the floor. Lynette had pretty much forgotten about them.

Howard's next move was to take a hand away from Lynette's tits and use it to cup her mons. Not a lot of pressure—just enough to let Lynette know he was there. He soon followed that up by sliding two fingers into her pussy. Lynette groaned in response.

"Oh yes. Oh fuck, Howard. That's good. But I need your cock, not just your fingers."

Howard ignored her and went on finger-fucking her while his tongue and lips continued to work over her nipples.

"Okay then, eat me. Eat me. Will you do that for me Howard? Will you lick my pussy and my clit?"

"Sure, baby. I'll eat you. I love eating pussy. Can you sit on my face?" With that Howard disengaged and flopped on to his back next to Lynette, his head toward the mirror on the wall. His dick, now fully recovered was standing tall and proud.

As Lynette sat up to mount him she got distracted by Howard's dick and began to stroke it. "Wait," he said. "That dick isn't going anyplace. I want your pussy on my face. Sit so I can watch your big tits bounce."

"Okay," she said as she sat up and swung a leg over Howard's torso. Now she was on her knees facing the mirror with her pussy hovering just above his mouth. Howard put his hands on her broad hips and pulled her down just enough so he could easily stroke her pussy with his tongue.

"Oh fuck, that's good," Lynette groaned, as he begin licking her with long slow strokes, beginning below the base of her labia and ending each time with a brief flick of her clit. When he touched her clit, it felt like a shock going through her. She knew it wasn't going to take her long to cum. She took a long look at herself in the mirror—naked, cupping her tits in her hands and holding them out, while the top of Howard's head appeared between her legs. I look so slutty, she thought. Good, this is just what I wanted.