Quarry Ch. 04

Quarry Ch. 4

Author Note.

This is about a loving wife and a cuckold. It is a story about sex outside of marriage. It explores desires we have even when married and considering them happening in reality. If that's not for you maybe don't read any further. If it is then I hope you enjoy....

A rating and a comment would be appreciated.

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As I looked at my reflection in the full length bedroom mirror I decided that the dress I had chosen, together with my hair and my make up were far better than I had anticipated. If I were to believe my husband, who for the entire time I had been getting ready had sat in a chair by our bed watching, I looked incredible. While he was obsessively partisan I had to agree that I did look good. The type of good that gets attention. Millers favourite type.

The dress was a homage to one I had in my wardrobe and had worn before. One that had been remembered. I had thought about wearing that one tonight but decided against it. I had a blank cheque from Miller but it was more than that. I wanted to know if the differences would be noticed. This dress was shorter, tighter. I'd had to diet strictly for almost three weeks to do it justice and I was obsessively hungry as I stood looking at the results.

"You look stunning," Miller said as he watched me watching me.

Perfect timing. I smiled back at him through the mirror. He wore shorts and a sweatshirt. He had also just eaten lasagne and the aroma around the house was torture.

The make up was something I had seen and practiced. Not my normal style and until today, now, I hadn't been sure. It was darker than usual. The reds more auburn and the greys closer to black. My hair was off my face in a tousled bun on my head., Perhaps that helped. Another blank cheque from my husband. I had told him I'd pay for it but he said he 'needed' to.

Then there was what was underneath. I knew that looked good too. Miller had chosen my underwear at my request because I wanted him to feel involved from the start and of course I knew how much he would appreciate that request. So following a giggling, often red faced look in several stores Miller had bought what he had wanted me to wear. I hadn't modelled, just checked the fit and the sizes. We had then had a slightly boozy lunch and sex at home with the underwear on the bed next to us still unworn. Tonight was the first time I had put it. Yet another need that my husband professed to having. I had actually given in to the suspense myself and offered to model it for him. He had refused to let me wear it.

Until tonight.

I sprayed a little more perfume, not too much, and then checked my reflection once more. It was almost seven thirty. The taxi would arrive soon. There was one more check I needed to make.

Miller stood as I approached. He looked mesmerised and I smiled at his complete love for me. It may sound odd given the circumstances but I knew that it was true. My needs and pleasures were matched by his complete dedication. He loved me, sometimes vicariously, but I had no doubt he loved me.

"The taxi will be here soon."

Miller looked at me with a steady smile. It helped to settle the nerves that had been building for days now. But I had to check.

"Miller, are you sure because..."

"Certain Lauren," he said without missing a beat.

"Let me finish though, please."

He nodded.

"Because if you have any doubts, any second thoughts about this. Please say. I'll make one text and we will head out together. Just us."

He looked down at himself. "I think I'd let the side down if we went out now," he said.

I smiled as I poked him in the chest. "Be serious."

His hands went to my hips but he didn't pull me in. Good training whenever I had spent hours getting ready. But his eyes found mine and held them. "Seriously Lauren. I've thought about this. Believe me I've thought about it a lot, and not just the juicy bits,"

I huffed small laugh.

"and I want this. I want you to want it and I want it to happen for you. No regrets, no recrimination, no blame. This is what we both want and I am committed to it as much as I am committed to you."

My heart melted a little. He may not have known it but his words had weakened my own resolve. Not something they were designed to do, and weakened. They didn't quite crush it.

There was a ping on my phone.

"The taxi is here. Last chance. You have to be sure?"

"Yes," he said confidently. "Sure."

"Phone on silent though, remember?" I asked." If you change your mind then it might be too late so..."

He touched my lips with the tip of his finger. Gently removed it and replaced it with a light kiss.

"I am sure. Now go, the taxi is waiting."

The taxi driver was not the same as the last one who had driven me alone. No Graham Stimson. I had remembered the night clearly and suspected he would have too. This driver was, well, professional. Maybe just normal. He was dark skinned and looked Eastern European. I didn't get any clues from him on that as apart from a curt nod and confirmation of the destination he said almost nothing. This drivers eyes were on the road despite my dress. I was oddly disappointed. Where are the ogling taxi drivers when you need a gee up?

Seriously though it gave me time to think and to go over the events that had led me here. I had been over them so many times before but needed to check for errors and mistakes one last time and before it was too late. It was somewhat like printing off a manuscript and trying to be objective as you read it for the hundredth time. I wasn't looking for petty mistakes like a word spelled slightly differently. I was looking for errors that may have been missed or overlooked that could change the entire story. That could derail the plot I thought I wanted. But then perhaps this whole story was one huge mistake that had disaster written all over it. My tummy swirled again. I wished I had Miller here to reassure me for the millionth time. I looked at my bag and thought of the phone inside it on silent. That was the deal, or part of it at least.

Of course it started, continued, in the days following that night out. When Miller was effervescent sexually. I recalled the sex again in bed that night. The talk of Jamie, again. The full explanation of how I returned home without knickers. Then came the 'What ifs'. There were so many 'What ifs' but we had both enjoyed them.

Of course there was the what if I had gone into Jamie's house for 'coffee'. How he would undress me and push me to my knees to suck that thick cock. How he might bend me over the sofa and fuck me from behind - a favourite of Millers and no doubt taken from my sexual reverie.

What if he had fucked me and sent me home with his cum still in my pussy. What if he had fucked me all night in every position he could think of.

Then there were the what ifs around Mr Stimson. What if he had got in the back and he had been the one who got to fuck me after all. There in the back of his taxi.

What if the fare was sucking his cock in the front.

Miller had so many 'What ifs' that late the following afternoon I tapped out. I was getting sore and couldn't believe he wasn't. Far from it. He seemed to be insatiable. He still had the glow from all of the things that had happened. I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't too but I needed a break. So I used my hand. I wanked him off in bed as I told him in detail and not for the first time what Jamie's cock had felt like. How big it had been, how thick, how hard. He loved it. I loved watching him love it and then cumming over my hand.

And then on the morning of the third day I got a text at work. It was from Jamie. I honestly hadn't known I had his number but there it was. 'Jamie the cheat'. That made me laugh. I must have changed it in drunken solidarity toward his wife after they broke up. I wondered what name he had for me in his phone. Maybe it was best not to know.

Before I opened it I looked around. I don't really know what I expected but I didn't want it to be seen by anyone else. Just receiving it created a sort of nervous tension. In the end it was quite a short text. Nothing controversial.

'Hi. Did you get home okay the other night? Just thought I would check. J.'

If he was just checking it was three days too late should I have been left for dead at the roadside but my tummy flipped like it had that night. Could I still claim witchcraft? Did that sort of thing work via text?

After some time considering my options I went with the first I had thought of. A simple well meaning text gets a simple reply.

'I did. Thanks for asking. X'

I didn't think mentioning the payment was a good idea. It occurred to me that it would complicate things and I wasn't sure I needed that. Though I wasn't sure if I wanted it. Then I realised I'd added a kiss at the end and cringed inwardly at me desk. I almost always put one on texts but maybe had I thought about it I wouldn't have on this occasion.

There was no reply. I didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. I began to second guess my reply or indeed if I should have replied at all. I could no longer concentrate on work as waiting for a text that might or might not arrive is an unintended modern day torture. When my phone pinged I actually had a small palpitation.

'I just want to say I had an amazing evening. Beautiful company and beautiful conversation. J.'

Again the reply was typed and re typed and deleted and then edited. Then I had the added decision of leaving a kiss. Would it look rude if I didn't, forward if I did. Would not putting one mean I was reading into the words too deeply? It finally read.

'Same. X'

I looked around the office after I sent it like colleagues may have been aware I was communicating with a man I had been sharing tongues with days earlier. Nobody had even looked. Then my heart jumped again. Another text. This one seemed more meaningful though I hadn't actually opened it. It seemed like it might be the last one, a reasonable end to a short 'thank you'. But it also seemed to hold more potential. Final texts do that sometimes. So with my hands a little unsteady I opened it.

'Must do it again soon. J.'

Miller and I fucked twice again that night. I showed him the texts over dinner and he took me to bed even before we had finished eating. Nothing was said. It didn't need to be. We both just knew that a door had opened and it was a door that terrified and excited us both. It was only after sex, as we lay side by side invested in our own thoughts that something occurred to me for the first time. I quite liked the idea for myself. The thought sent a shiver of fear right through me. For the first time this was real. It could be something that happened, actually happened. All I needed to do was reply and he would do the rest. The thought made my heart skip and my pussy tighten. I looked at Miller. He had dozed off. I shouldn't wake him to tell him that. I felt guilty, but why? This was mainly my husbands fantasy but it was my pleasure that he always said he wanted. I knew it was his pleasure as well but he had told me from the very beginning that they both went hand in hand. I shouldn't wake him to tell him, should I?

The next day I was back at work. I kept myself busy and distracted until late in the day when work had calmed down. I was at the coffee machine waiting in a small queue when I allowed myself to think of Miller and I. The road that led us to this point.

After I understood my husbands fantasies about me, accepted them, I offered to dip my toe for him. Only to please him and not with any intention of having sex with other men. I didn't view his thoughts as particularly weird. No more than my own interests about sex. I was just more comfortable keeping them as fantasies while he wanted to live them out. So why shouldn't we have some fun with it?

At a barbecue in summer I wore a sun dress that was short and liable to float in a light wind. After a few glasses of wine I got chatting to a man I had seen and who I found interesting. There was little more to it than that. Some light flirting perhaps. Sitting so that should he have looked he would have seen more of my legs than the other men there were treated to. It worked for my husband though. It was noticeable and almost embarrassing how agitated he was during the party. A friend even asked if he was unwell.

Then we did the classic lone female in a bar, which I found very nerve racking but also quite exciting. Miller was always close and there was very little of what might be called success but we both enjoyed dressing up, the nights out and the sex when we got home. Sometimes before we got home. I was shocked at how many men, mostly older men, approached me but I was more shocked by how many wanted to pay me. Miller said it was the places we went - where high class escorts might be found. I wasn't so sure. I think it was more likely to be the way he liked me to dress before sitting in a bar on my own for an hour at a time. Still, it wasn't all lost because we discovered a kink we both shared and from that point on I was bought and sold countless times in our bedroom. I was picked up and paid for by those men, sometimes two or three at a time. I was sent out to pay a gambling debt that my terrible husband had secretly racked up with a group of dangerous bikers, or whoever fitted our particular needs that night. I even, quite prophetically, got in the front seat of a taxi and sucked cock for all sorts of drivers after having lost my purse on a night out.

There was one man who showed a significant interest in me. A man we both knew through his wife, an old friend of mine. He made no secret of his liking for me whenever we met. Who knows, he might have ended up in bed with me had things been a little different. There was, all on his part, some flirting and rather risqué messaging -- he had once threatened to put me over his knee when I had delayed replying to a text. But Miller and I both agreed that it wasn't going to happen. Not even some teasing. It was a game for us but it would not have been for his wife and neither of us wanted to see anyone else get hurt.

Cue Jamie leaving his wife because he had bedded one two many women who weren't his wife. We had known him for some time and of course there was a running joke about his behaviour around me. It had led to talking in bed between Miller and I but when he was in a relationship it went no further. Not on our part in any case.

Then that night out happened. Then the messages and our fantasy was now me having sex with Jamie in all sorts of dirty and debauched ways.

Since that night we had talked about him almost every time we'd had sex. Me having sex with Jamie was a huge 'What if'. Miller loved it and I have to admit that I liked it as well. The idea of it being wrong. That I was pursued despite being married. Then there was that text, sent as a clear invitation for me -- If you want to have sex with me just let me know. What my husband didn't fully appreciate was that maybe I had began wanting it to happen. That I toyed with the idea it might become reality and I would get to scratch that itch I had for Jamie Fletcher.

Miller mentioned Jamie cautiously one night during sex. It was while he was on top of me. We had slowed and were enjoying the feeling of him inside me. Nothing more. Both naked. Nothing to do the following day and just seeing where we wanted to go and for how long.

"So have you had any more texts?" he asked.

I shook my head and he went quiet.

"Maybe I should text him," I said. As soon as I did I felt him harden inside me. His hips moved again, then a little faster and his eyes became immediately more attentive. I had said it as a tease but there was definitely part of me that was testing the water.

"That's all it would take Miller. You know that don't you?" When I said it my heart raced and I wanted to take the words back out of the air. But like evil escaping Pandora's box they were gone.

He looked at me for a long time before he nodded. I pushed my pussy up against him and he started to move inside me faster. I gripped his bum. The sex went from enjoyable to exciting.

Then he spoke again.

"Remember the way he left it Lauren? What Jamie said? 'We should do it again'. What if you did? What if you did it again?"

I could see from his expression, his eagerness to push as deep as he could inside me that he was consumed by the thought. He began to suck hard on my nipples, need deep kisses. His agitation showed me the jealousy he felt warring with lust. He could imagine Jamie adding me to the list of married women he has fucked behind their husbands backs.

"I've been thinking about him Miller. I've been thinking about him a lot. Going with him."

"About fucking him?"

I nodded, unable to put that thought into words.

Miller became urgent. His breathing a ragged pant. Consumed by the thought and with an urgency driven by images of me get fucked. We kissed. His tongue pushed into my mouth as he moaned again and again. His back arched and his face tightened, eyes closed, mouth open. I felt him cum inside me. I felt the instant slick of semen from his cock inside my pussy before a panting collapse onto me. He lay searching for air as his tension eased. My hands stroking his back and the back of his head.

"I love you so much baby." I whispered in his ear.

We lay together after sex. We may not have looked our best but might have felt somewhere near it. Miller was happy and spent, for now. I was happy and satisfied, for now.

I suspect that I knew what my husband was thinking just as much as he knew what I was. Neither of us wanted to put it into words for fear of pushing the other into something they didn't want. I didn't want to say it in case Miller thought I no longer wanted him. He didn't in case doing so overstepped the boundaries between accepted fantasy and unacceptable suggestions. So I did the decent thing. I cheated.

"What are you thinking?" I asked him.

"About how much I love you," he said, cheating straight back.

"What else?"

There was a pause before Miller spoke. "Him."

His hand stroked some of my hair behind my ear. It tickled as much as it felt nice.

"You?" he asked.

"Same."

A silence fell as we danced around the elephant in the room.

"Would you do it?" he asked eventually.

"Do what?" I wanted to be sure we were speaking about the same topic.

He simply said, "Jamie."

"Do you mean contact him? Text him or... "

"Either, both."

"Well," I said, thinking about both. "I don't think that there is much difference between the two when we are talking about Jamie."

"What do you mean?" Millers fingers traced down my neck and over my shoulder and upper arm. The very tip of his index finger grazed a nipple. As it did I realised that I wasn't as satisfied as I thought.

"Well, firstly this is Jamie Fletcher that we are talking about. So anything that we do, any decision we make. Its serious. He has a history, a reputation for this stuff. He doesn't just talk about married women, he beds them "

I got a nod in response. His eyes told me that he was still turned on but serious.

"We are talking about the man who 'monopolised' me for a couple of hours following which got his hand up my dress. Something that I have to admit I quite liked and which he knew I quite liked"

Miller gave me a pointed stare.

"A lot. Something I liked a lot. Okay? Happy?"

"As happy as you were when you got home that night, yes." He grinned.

"Be serious Miller," I said as I shook my head but couldn't help smiling. "Then he texts me suggesting we do it again sometime. Do you see?"

Miller gave a little laugh. "I suppose I do, but would you mind just explaining it to me... in detail."

"Deviant." I paused and thought for a moment. I needed to make him realise that this was serious.

"If I contact him and ask to do it again it will be just the same in his conquest driven mind as me asking him to have another try at persuading me. It will be seen by him as a request to set up a meeting, a date, at which he will be trying to get me out of my knickers and into his bed. For real. Is that what you want?"

I could see the answer in his face.

I rolled over pushing Miller onto his back and swinging my leg over to straddle his naked body with mine. I felt a semi hard cock slip between the lips of my pussy and slid up and down it. I knew it wasn't sensible. Talking through serious decisions during sex isn't a goid idea but the thought didn't stop me.

"Any text back now will be a green light for him. A tacit acknowledgment that he can get me alone and this time," I reached between us and wrapped my hand around his cock. He was hard again, or close to it. I worked the end against my vagina until it slipped in and then lowered myself down onto it. I heard the wet sound of my pussy accepting it as I did. Miller groaned. "he's, he's going to want to fuck me. He will want to get me under him, or bent over in front of him or however he has imagined fucking me for the first time. Is that what you want?"

Was I teasing him? Perhaps. Was it for my own ends? The same answer. Did he really want this to happen?

"Would you do it for me Lauren?"

I moved back and forth on him. I didn't reply. I was frightened of the answer I was contemplating.

He asked again, pushing for that answer. "Would you do it for me Lauren?"

"In my imagination I think about it happening. Having sex with him." I continued to slide up and down my husbands slick cock. Miller was groaning under me. His hands roaming my breasts and hips, my thighs and the top of my bum.

He nodded, moaned "I understand Lauren. But would you do it?"

I lowered my head so that my hair hung in his face. My voice now an urgent whisper. "This is dangerous Miller, serious. Because, I... I think I want to fuck him. I want to see what its like to have sex with him."

Miller was hard now. Eager and urgent even after his orgasm. The cum still in me was coating his shaft. I could hear our fucking. I stayed close to him as if our secret might be overheard.

"His size turns me on. His confidence. The way he pursues me with that certainty. His persistence, even his patience. Everything, It turns me on to think about him. I sometimes wank over him."

My own words about it now turned me on. Words that had a sense of inevitability to them. The thought of it scared me but also made me wetter than I had a right to be. What I had been thinking of finally took shape as I spoke it.

"I want to fuck him Miller, just once. That's all I'll need to satisfy me and my curiosity. I want to let him catch me, let him do all the dirty things he has imagined doing... do all the things I have imagined... Oh, Mmm."

I felt myself about to cum. The tingle in my toes intensified as the sensation between my legs bubbled over into intense pleasure.

"Just once. You can let him have me just once."

I began to orgasm on Miller. It was wet and overwhelming. I dug my nails into some part of his flesh as my eyes closed and I lost sense of everything but the pleasure coursing through me from my pussy outwards.