Walt and Rhonda Ch. 03

Chapter 03 - Just a Drink

It had been several weeks since returning from her mini-vacation with Walt, her husband, when she had enjoyed her first extramarital sex with Andy, the handsome young man from the car rental agency. She had sent that teasing text to Walt from the plane, and the when she landed, had seen the text back from him. He had joked that he had had sex after she left, and she laughed, believing that he'd seen hers as a joke as well. She's wondered off and on since then how he would react if he knew she wasn't kidding, that she had really fucked Andy, and that she had enjoyed it, despite her guilt at having cheated on him. But after his convention he'd returned home, and they had joked about it, and teased each other, and it had led to some very exciting sex, reminiscent of vacation sex.

She had to admit that she felt very conflicted about what she'd done. In a moment of uncontrolled passion, fueled by vacation horniness and a shared fantasy, and ignited by a younger man's attention to her, she had been unfaithful to her husband! Her feelings flipped between extremes in the weeks following, from shame and guilt at her betrayal, to pride and longing at the illicit attraction and glorious sensations she'd enjoyed.

Sometimes she would catch Walt looking at her, over dinner, or in the bedroom, with a strange and unreadable look on his face. A moment of panic would rise, and she'd think, "he knows," and fear would grip her. But the look would vanish, or he would turn away, and the moment would pass.

She had returned to her everyday life. Work, cleaning, laundry, dinner; all the mundane activities she let go of when on vacation. Freedom from the everyday left her open to think of sex, to be horny and a little more freaky and open to new ideas, it always did, and vacation sex with Walt was always hotter, looser, and more frequent. She seemed to stay in a constant state of arousal away from home. This time it had led to teasing each other about fucking other people, but then she had actually done it! What would her do if he discovered her infidelity? Hate her? Divorce her? Hit her? Would he understand that she loved only him, that it was just a moment's fancy? That she'd been impulsive and taken by the attention? Could he appreciate the wonder of her desire for another man's cock in her pussy, driving her to a place she had only been with her husband in all their years together? Could he understand the burden she bore, carrying her secret around, in shame and pride, wanting to tell him, and fearful of the result?

Perhaps he would share her thrill, appreciate her nature, get hard and excited at the telling, wanting to know what she'd done, loving her more for her human weakness and desire, reveling in the newfound fantasy. She had masturbated several times since then, imagining telling him about it, describing the event in detail, with him egging her on, excited, and she would visualize Walt fucking her as she told her tale of passion and desire. After getting herself off her guilt would return; stronger, more fierce: she would vow to never think of it again, and she would hold fast to her promise, until the next time the memory gripped her.

All those battling emotions and thought made the next time harder and easier.

She frequently went out for drinks after work with her friends from the office. It was a large firm, and she was an assistant manager in a procurement department, and while she didn't know even half the people who worked there, she was close with her group, and they went out at least once a week, sometimes for dinner, sometimes for drinks. On this night they were celebrating a new account that they had worked hard to achieve, and the crowd was larger than usual, including a number of people she didn't know. They went to their usual place, had some light bar food, and set to drinking, and dancing and laughing.

Rhonda didn't drink a lot, and she kept it light tonight while many of the others got sloshed. She saw early on that there would be plenty of cabs tonight, and heavy heads returning tomorrow to retrieve cars. Still, she enjoyed the banter and fun, and somehow found herself in the middle of a group of younger, single girls from the office. The conversation turned to dating and boyfriends and hinted towards sex. Eventually it led to critiques of the men in the bar that night.

They chatted and laughed at their assessments of which one was hot or not, who was available and single, or available and married. That man was on the prowl, one would point out, see his friend as wingman? One of the girls volunteered that she wouldn't mind being his score. Those others were on the prowl, too, but they would go home alone. That was looked nice, but was gay, another looked good, and a girl confessed was good, she'd hooked up with him in the past. They conjectured who would be good in bed, who was hung, who was a considerate lover, and who was not, and she laughed with them at their jokes and predictions.

As she glanced around the room at the men they were discussing, she noticed one man looking back at her. He was younger than her, though slightly older than most of the young men in the bar, maybe thirty-five. His eye caught her, and his gaze burned into her. She froze under his eyes, watched him smile slightly, just a curl at the corner of his lips, holding her gaze from a distance, as if he knew what they were saying, and how it was affecting her. She felt herself moisten a little, and her pussy heated. She quickly looked away, awash in unwelcome but undeniable feelings.

Rhonda listened as they switched from what man was what way, to what they had done, to what they liked, and she giggled and blushed at the descriptions of caresses, fingers, lips and tongue, size and action. One girl confessed that her boyfriend in college had been the largest she'd ever seen, and she still fantasized about it. Another was passionate about being licked, and another bragged that she gave the best blowjobs. They bantered about swallowing, and some claimed to have experienced anal, and liked it!

Her head was whirling now, and frankly, she was a little stimulated by the sex talk. It certainly wasn't her first time in such a discussion, but this one seemed to be more frank, more open, and, well, sexier. Hotter. She thought about Walt waiting at home, and knew she'd be giving him a good ride tonight. Then, unbidden, the memory of her dalliance with Andy came to her, and her face heated with embarrassment. Several of the girls noticed, and pointed it out, telling the others that they had shocked the MILF. Rhonda had to ask what that was; she'd never heard the term, and she blushed again when they explained it.

She told them she wasn't a mother, a childhood disease had left her unable to have children, and the girls fell into an awkward silence. She had long since come to terms with it, and settled their discomfort, adding, "Beside, we never have to use a condom, and there's nothing like getting filled with a nice hot load, right?"

They stared at her, shocked, and then broke into uproarious laughter, and resumed the discussion, describing the likes and dislikes of male ejaculate, and men's faces and reactions to cumming. Rhonda excused herself to use the ladies room, thinking to herself on the short walk. She'd had her adventures when she was younger, and she and Walt had a vigorous and healthy sex life. "But nothing like these youngsters," she thought, "they have clear ideas of what they like, what they want. And they are on the hunt, just like men."

As she peed she wondered about herself, her great sex life with Walt, and remembered Andy, the incredible afternoon fucking she'd gotten from a man she'd just met. Just like these young girls, she thought, a one-time hookup, but a story she could never tell in a group. It was her secret, as a married woman. When she wiped, she felt her clit tingle slightly, and realized how wet she was, how her pussy longed to be entered, pounded hard, and filled with cum. She touched herself, and then pulled her hand back as the stimulation coursed through her, focusing her body on her immediate sexual desire. She grinned at the thought of masturbating here, in the ladies room, wondering if she could tell that story to the young ladies outside. "Your stories got me so hot," she'd say, "I just frigged myself in the stall!" They would all laugh. What would they think of her? Would they think her a slut? A cheap woman who doesn't get enough at home? And what if it got around -- my God, what if Walt heard about it? Then she smiled again. He'd probably enjoy it!

When she emerged from the ladies room she came face to face with the stranger who had caught her eye.

"Oh, excuse me," she said, bumping into him in the narrow hallway. But he did not move out of the way. She looked up at him to see him looking directly into her eyes. That same expression she'd seen from across the room, peering deep into her, knowing her secrets, her longings. Knowing that she would cheat on her husband. She became slightly flustered, and a little warm. "Sorry, please let me by."

"I was looking for you," he said. And she froze. "I hope I am not being to forward," he added, smiling a little, that seductive curling lip she'd seen earlier.

She took in his face in a flash; strong chin, startling deep blue eyes that crinkled a little at the corners, large nose, thin lips, light brown hair cut shorter than she liked. Clean features, young, attractive, but it was the knowing look on his face, not a smug expression, but a confident assuredness, an awareness, that said 'I know'. She felt her knees grow weak a little. "Looking for me? Why?"

His smile relaxed a little. "I saw you inside, I just had to talk to you. The way you smile when you and your friends are talking, the way you looked at me." He paused only a second. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."

She had to admit she was flattered by this charming young man who was coming on to her so politely. Her stimulated libido and the two glasses of wine probably helped. But while he seemed pleasant and interesting, and was certainly easy on the eyes, she knew that there was no way this could go any further. "You didn't frighten me, uhm..."

"James. Jimmy, if you like."

"Well, Jimmy, I was startled when I came out, and confused when you wouldn't let me by, but I wasn't afraid. And even though you seem very nice..."

"Would you have a drink with me?"

"That does not seem like a very good idea, Jimmy."

He pondered her answer briefly, then replied, "You're right, of course. People would see us together, and talk. Do you want to say goodnight to your friends? Or just sneak out with me right now?" He grinned slowly, a full, honest, good-natured smile, and she felt herself turn warm all over, and she smiled back, and laughed easily, and he laughed with her. Just a drink, no more, she thought.

"Well, all right Jimmy, I'll have that drink. My name's Rhonda," she said, as they returned to the bar, bypassing the young ladies who gawked and poked at each other as they passed. As she walked by she hooked her arm in Jimmy's and glanced over her shoulder at them, and they all made faces and obscene gestures at her. She grinned as they approached the bar. Just a drink. One drink, some smiles, nothing more. No further than the drink. He sat her on a stool at the bar, and seated himself next to her.

"Your friends looked pretty excited for you," he commented, signaling for the bartender. "What are you drinking?"

"My friends...you saw them?"

"There's a big giant mirror over the bar. Clear as day. You think they're jealous?"

She saw their reflection over the bar, saw her friends looking at her, and shook her head. "I was drinking white wine, and don't flatter yourself. She turned to him. "But yeah, maybe they're a little jealous." She was feeling pretty proud, actually, having attracted a handsome younger man, and a tight feeling in her chest sent a tingle down her spine, and settled in her crotch. She wriggled a little on the barstool, and fought it back. Just One Drink, she told herself. It's harmless flirting, that's all.

"If my friends saw me right now they'd be jealous. I know it," he said, handing her the glass of wine. "You're the prettiest, sexiest woman here."

She blushed horribly and the tingle returned, stronger. "Stop it, all these pretty young girls here?"

"They're nice to look at, don't get me wrong, Rhonda, but you, you have a quality about you, something in your face, in your eyes. Like you know what's going on." She thought, 'that's how he looked to me' as he continued. "I go for them, sometimes, but they seem, I don't know, not real enough." He paused. "Don't get me wrong, they can be a lot of fun for a night, or three. But you seem, well, innocent."

She thought of how innocent she was, having had sex with another man, and now, shamelessly flirting with another, just weeks later. "You know I'm married."

"Yep, I saw the ring." He looked her in the eye again, that deep, soul-baring gaze that had captured her eye from across the room. "Do you love your husband?"

She thought that was an unusual line for a pick-up artist, and told him so, adding, "And yes, I do."

"That's good," he said, "it's important to have love. Does he know where you are?"

"Yes, he knows I am out with friends from work."

He turned his body to hers then, never breaking that penetrating gaze, and as his knees touched her he put a hand on her leg. She felt the electricity of his touch through her pants, and his eyes held her, frozen in his gaze, drilling deep inside her. She felt he was fucking her with his eyes, right there at the bar. "When does he expect you home?"

"I -- I- usually before midnight," she managed. She wondered if she should move his hand, then couldn't, and then didn't want to. "I, uh, usually call when I'm leaving..." he voice trailed off.

"You might be late tonight," he said confidently, his words only for her, and she blushed, felt her face heating, and steeled her nerve. Just the drink, she told herself. The drink, nothing more. God, he was making her hot!

They talked, and laughed, and had a second drink, and she watched her friends begin to leave, and then stopped looking for them. When she finished her second wine she saw the bar was much emptier than before. He was talking, but she wasn't listening, she was looking for a clock, not wanting to be seen looking at her watch. Over the bar, wow, she thought, 11:30, and she looked back at him. And he was looking at her.

"I said, are you ready?" he asked. "It's getting late."

"Oh, yes," she answered. "Yes, we should go. Can you call me a cab? I don't think I should drive."

"I'll drive," he said, "I've been drinking club soda all night." He stood, and held her arm as she climbed off the stool. She walked with him to the door, and he held it open for her. They walked together to the parking lot without Rhonda guessing that he might be considering driving her somewhere other than home. In fact her only thought was how to explain to Walt that a man had dropped her off. They got to his car, and he opened the passenger door and helped her in. As she settled in her seat, he waited before closing the door to say, "This might be a good time to tell your husband you'll be late." And then he leaned in, and kissed her.

He'd surprised her, his face close as he spoke, his smile so warm, and his eyes, his eyes; and then his lips were on hers and she gasped a little. And she froze. And after a moment's hesitation she accepted his kiss, and then she was returning it, soft and sensual, not pressing, nor rushed. He took his time kissing her, touching her lips, pulling back slightly, then pressing back in, lips slightly parted, and hers opened to match. A touch of tongue, then a quick slip inside, then just the light touch again as his lips pulled back slightly. Just like he did with his eyes, she thought, he's fucking me with his lips, sweet, what would it be like? She felt herself becoming warm, her pussy moistening more, and her hand touched his chest, lightly, her fingers trembling. Oh, no, let me resist, please, I can't, she thought, please, oh, don't let it stop, my God I want him so bad!

As her brain whirled into overdrive he suddenly pulled away, stood, and closed the car door. She panted, panicking slightly as he made his way around and slipped into the driver's seat. He started the car, but turned and looked at her before pulling away.

"Where do you want to go, Rhonda," he asked, and she turned to face him, and her resolve melted in his gaze, remembering his lips on hers, his warm breath, his soft tongue.

"Your place," she said softly, ashamed of her weakness, but squeezing her thighs together. "Fast, please."

He pulled away, adding, "You'll be late getting home." She hearsdthe smile in his voice as she fumbled in her purse for her cell phone. When she pulled it out there was a text message waiting.

TIRED, GOING TO BED, LOVE YOU, W

She hit reply. NIGHT HON. STAYING OUT A WHILE, TOO MUCH FUN. MAYBE GETTING LAID, LOL. LOVE U R

She turned off the phone and put it away.

"Did you tell him we were going to have sex?" She turned to him, shocked at his blatant statement. He was looking straight ahead, driving. She could see his lips curl from the side. That smile. His eyes crinkled impishly as he spoke. "Because I am going to fuck you tonight. Maybe more than once." She felt her pussy drool at the sound of his words, and for the first time tonight she wondered about his dick, what it looked like, how big it was, how it would feel in her mouth, in her wet pussy. Yes, he was going to fuck her.

"Are you sure?" she asked? "I mean, about doing it twice. You must have some great recovery, because I'm going to suck your cock until you cum in my mouth."

"Oh, you are a naughty one! But you're right, I might have a difficult time with the second one then." He glanced at her, ginning. "But I'll try."

"You'd better." She reached over, placing her hand in his lap, and caressed his growing rod through his pants, feeling a healthy hardness. She stroked it, tracing the outline with her fingers. It was hefty, feeling thick, a substantial girth, and she knew she had to see it. "Nice," she said softly. "You know, I ... I don't do this ..."

"What? Rubbing the cocks of men you just met after telling them how you're going to blow them and fuck them?"

She squeezed him impulsively, felt him twinge, And grow. "No, cheat on my husband."

"This is your first time?"

"Well, second."

"So you DO do it."

"Have done it, once before." And now I will do it again, she thought. What a slut I am! I could change my mind, now, tell him to take me home. I'll fuck Walt, wake him up and suck his cock and fuck his brains out, she thought. But instead her hand fumbled at his pants, opening the button, and with a little help, pulling his zipper down. She reached in and grasped his hot, stiff shaft, and wrestled it out of his pants. "Oh, fuck, that's nice," she cooed. In the intermittent streetlights she could see it illuminated, a beautiful hard cock, large and full, hard for her, for her mouth, her hungry cunt. It was as thick as she had thought, fat; not long, a real double-wide. She saw her hand holding it, not quite reaching all the way around, and she felt light-headed, her fingers stroking the smooth skin, feeling the warmth from his member, touching the rim of his crown, and then swirling the drop of pre-cum, making the head glisten.

She undid her seatbelt and leaned over, dropping her head to his lap as he drove, and taking the head of his cock into her mouth. She could barely fit, and couldn't move, so she held her head still and swirled her tongue around the bulbous head, smelling his musky scent, tasting his sweet slick pre-cum. She sucked it gently, teasing it, slipping her tongue into the tiny hole.