The Tipping Point

-=-THE TIPPING POINT-=-

A DUSTY GEM FROM A LOST AND FOUND USB STICK

What does it take to tip a faithful wife to a cheating slut?

[[ Please read the Standard Disclaimer on Alextasy's bio page ]]

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Fa-lump. Fa-lump. Fa-lump.

The steering wheel abruptly jerked to the right, and a teary-eyed Suzanne felt the jarring rhythm of a flat tire. She banged her fists on the steering wheel, screaming at the world. She had just convinced herself this day couldn't possibly get any worse.

It started with the condom.

Well, not exactly a condom. It was only one empty wrapper. Only. As if just one wrapper wasn't a bad thing.

She'd found it first thing this morning, in the hamper with Roger's clothes from his trip to Omaha last Monday and Tuesday. It seemed her husband's job required much more time out of town these days. It was Friday, and she'd made plans to smother him with affection all weekend, remind him why he married her. But he'd already called to tell her his clients wanted another meeting late that evening, so he wouldn't be back until at least mid-day Saturday.

Suzanne wanted to believe he was still true to her. She talked herself into a dozen reasons the foil packet could've ended up there. Every line of logic fell into a black hole. In the end, she couldn't ignore the simple truth.

She should have guessed he was finding entertainment during his travels. After seven years, her husband hadn't seemed interested in her for a while. Oh, he was nice enough, took care of what she asked, and tended to her base desires, but more and more often it was like he wasn't there. Someplace else. With somebody. Not her.

Before she confronted him, Suzanne had to be sure, but she had no idea of how to come up with proof. She breathed a defeated sigh.

When she returned to the kitchen after her shower and finding the wrapper, hot coffee was all over the counter and the floor. The glass urn was cracked and leaking. By the time she cleaned the mess up, she was late for work.

And she still hadn't gotten her favorite morning coffee.

So, when her boss called her into his office early in the day, she assumed he was going to chew her out. It was worse. He was cutting back her hours.

She didn't have to guess whose idea that was. Linda, the scheming office whore smirked at her all day long.

Suzanne worked hard, and she was good at her job. The supervisor's position had just come open, and she was hoping he saw her as the top choice. It wasn't hard to figure out what was going on in Linda's private, closed-door meetings with the boss. Suggestive comments from their balding, overweight manager had made it clear he found Suzanne attractive and was open to equal-opportunity persuasion. The idea sickened her.

Instead of going out on her lunch break, she grabbed a protein bar and a cardboard-tasting cup of coffee from the machines and searched online for a new coffeemaker. She liked the stout flavors she got from the strongest setting on her old one, and Best-Mart had a good deal on the same model. She called to check stock, but the only store that still had them was twenty miles away, on the other side of town. She gave them her credit card number and told them to hold it for her.

After work, Suzanne drove an hour through grueling rush-hour traffic to the store, only to find out her card had been canceled. Someone had stolen her number. The store had sold the last coffeemaker. It didn't help her disposition that the idiot at the service desk kept trying to peek down the opening at the top of her blouse.

Suzanne stormed out of the store. Turning right out of the parking lot, onto the highway, she cut the edge off a yellow light.

The motorcycle cop said it was red. She could argue her case in court. Have a nice day, ma'am.

A few miles down the road, Suzanne recognized a car pulling out of a diner that resembled her husband's. From a safe distance, she followed it to a cheap motel nearby. Her stomach twisted to see Roger open the passenger door for Evelyn, Suzanne's best friend. They kissed passionately, right there in the parking lot. Evelyn squeezed his dick through his pants and laughed when he slapped her butt as he led her up the rusted metal steps to a room. He already had the key card in his pocket.

Suzanne's emotions careened between rage, despair, and misery while she waited in an empty lot across the street for hours, watching the door and praying they would come out. They never did. That was probably a good thing. She couldn't decide on a suitable response that wouldn't end with her humiliation.

Sitting in her car, she imagined all the adulterous things her best friend could be doing with her husband. Both of Evelyn's husbands had divorced her for screwing around. She had flippantly shared her exploits in detail with Suzanne. That made it easy to picture the disgusting acts they were probably performing. The acid in Suzanne's stomach churned.

It was getting late. She knew she should eat, but she couldn't even think about food. Hopeless, weeping pitifully, she cranked the car and started home. She was still a few miles from the house, cutting through a deserted business park boulevard just past the new hospital, when the steering wheel lurched.

Fa-lump. Fa-lump. Fa-lump.

After a raging tantrum, Suzanne reached for her phone to call for help. The phone in her purse. The purse that wasn't there. The last place she remembered it was on the service counter at Best-Mart.

She thought she was cried out. Fresh tears brimmed over, drenching her cheeks and her blouse.

Three knocks on her window made her jump out of her skin. She looked up to find a familiar, toothy grin.

"Are you okay there, Miz Campbell?"

Trey Marshall was sitting on his bicycle, wearing green scrubs. He was a scrawny teenager from down the street when she and Roger moved into the neighborhood, the second year they were married. He was bigger, had to be in his early twenties by now, but he still rode his bike everywhere.

Sniffling, Suzanne wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and rolled down her window.

"I think I have a flat tire. I lost my phone and my wallet."

"I would shore be glad to fix that tire for ya'."

Trey's Southern accent never failed to give Suzanne a lift. There was an indescribably joy in everything he said and did. He had cut their grass for several years, and she often invited him in for a cold drink afterwards, just so she could listen to him talk. He was older now, taller and filled out, and his deep voice was even smoother, like warm Tupelo honey pouring from his lips.

She said, "I would really appreciate your help. I've never had to change a tire." She was embarrassed to tell him, "I don't have any money right now. I could pay you tomorrow."

"Don't you worry about that none, Miz Campbell." The tone of his voice dropped in the middle of his elongated "Miz" to make it two syllables. "Momma always told me neighbors is supposed to help each other out."

Trey laid his bike on the curb while Suzanne opened her trunk. She stood beside him as he unscrewed the tiny spare.

"The jack's right over there." He pointed toward her side. He told her how to open the plastic panel and remove the tools.

Suzanne caught Trey's eyes glancing down the front of her white blouse when she bent over. Her boss's dress code was on the revealing side. Normally, she would have been incensed by such crudeness. This was just Trey, though. Besides, there wasn't much for him to see. She had a bra on, and her girls weren't that big anyway. Certainly not as bulky as the custom-made jugs that treacherous slut Evelyn bought. She didn't understand the fascination.

As Trey lifted the spare out of the trunk, the back of his hand brushed her arm. Something like a static charge made her skin tingle where he'd touched her.

He knelt by the car to jack it up.

Suzanne said, "Why are you riding around this late in a medical uniform?"

"I'm a nurse now, over to the hospital. My shift just ended, and I was on the way home when I seen your car sitting here."

"You were a Godsend," she told him. "I would've probably had to walk home if you hadn't showed up. I don't know how I can ever repay you for this."

Trey turned his head up showing his big, toothy grin. "You don't owe me nothing, Miz Campbell."

There it was again, that long, mellow "Miz". His lips pursed and his lower lip pouted as if the word was a kiss.

"I insist," she said. "Maybe I can cook something special. Do you like peaches?"

His laugh was deep and rich. "I'm from Georgia, Miz Campbell. My blood runs peach-colored."

"That settles it, then. I'll make you one of my peach pies."

With a big grin, Trey said, "I cain't wait to get a big mouthful of your peach pie."

She shuddered at the image that popped into her head. She shook it off. No, he didn't mean that.

He sat cross-legged on the grass to remove the old tire. The bulging of his muscles when he wrenched the nuts off made Suzanne realize he wasn't a scrawny boy any more. He was a man now. A tall, well-built man, with a good heart. He was going to make some woman really lucky someday.

He reached back to lay one of the nuts in the upturned hubcap, and the back of his hand brushed across her ankle. Another tiny electric jolt passed between them. She looked down at Trey, but he hadn't seemed to notice.

Waiting for him to bolt the spare on, Suzanne's thoughts wandered to her unfaithful husband. She'd given Roger her virginity in college. She had never known another man. Their marriage was wonderful for the first few years. Somewhere along the way, their love life had dwindled. It was about the time he started working late most nights.

Then the so-called "business trips" had begun. She wondered how many of them had been real. How long had he been lying to her?

What the hell was he doing with her former best friend in that hotel room? Was she sucking his cock? Evelyn had told Suzanne she loved the feel of a man in her mouth, especially when he get close to his orgasm. "That's when they turn into putty in my hands," she'd said.

Was Roger returning the favor? Was his tongue slithering into her nasty pussy right now? Was it flicking at Evelyn's clit the same way he teased Suzanne's? When was the last time he'd done that?

She closed her eyes, picturing the scene of the two illicit lovers. He kisses a line up along her inner thigh, drawing closer to her aroused sex while his hand lags behind, moving slowly up her long, elegant leg, caressing the tender flesh at the back of my knee, and--

Her eyes shot open. What? The back of my knee...?

Suzanne looked down. The new tire was on. Trey was peering up at her. His broad hand was curled around the top of her slender calf, his fingertips delicately stroking the soft, erogenous pad behind her kneecap. A chill started at his fingers and flowed up into her spine.

"Trey? What are you doing?"

"You're so damn purty, Miz Campbell." His hand slid further up along her smooth leg, underneath her skirt.

"This is wrong, Trey. You... you shouldn't be acting like this," Suzanne said. "I'm married."

That's what she told him, but she wasn't convinced her marriage mattered any more.

Trey's fingers were now at her inner thigh, drawing small, circular patterns on the sensitive skin, halfway to her panties. She shivered, but she couldn't move.

Even in the stark glare from the streetlight, his eyes held a warm adoration.

"I been waiting a long time for you to show me the real woman you been hiding under them nice clothes."

Suzanne was frozen. Her fists were clenched by her side. His fingers were inches from her sex, making goosebumps light up all over her skin, and she couldn't figure out why her body refused to step away, or even squeeze her thighs shut.

"I don't want you to touch me there." She was embarrassed by how weak she sounded.

"I think you really do, Miz Campbell." The tiny circles edged closer and closer. She felt the hum of his "Miz" on her clit.

Transfixed by the sensations his fingers were creating, a scratchy whine came from her throat.

"Please stop."

"Are you sure?"

His fingers finally reached their target, and she gasped. They grazed the length of her crease through her underwear, arousing a tingling shudder.

No, she wasn't sure of anything anymore.

He said, "Why is your panties so wet, Miz Campbell?"

"Oh, God!" Suzanne whimpered, trembling as he fondled her damp, swollen cleft. A bead of sweat trickled down between her breasts. "Please, Trey..."

"You want something, Miz Campbell?"

With the barest of contact, his fingertip flicked rapidly over the head of her clit. She gasped and shuddered, her fists clenched by her side. Her nipples tightened, aching to be touched as more of her lust seeped between her lower lips. When was the last time Roger focused all his attentions on her? Had he ever touched her so intimately? So knowingly?

Trey's fingers continued to pleasure her as he came up to his feet. He towered above Suzanne. His hand curled around the back of her neck, gripping firmly as his fingers slipped under the edge of her panties to find her soft, willing flesh.

"I'm gonna kiss you now, Miz Campbell."

There, on that balmy night, by the side of a wide, vacant road, Suzanne felt Trey's soft lips cover hers. In over ten years, no one but Roger had kissed her like that. She had given her husband everything--her virginity, her trust, and years of devotion. Now the worthless, lying sonofabitch was humping his backstabbing whore.

Screw him.

She moaned, parting her lips to accept Trey's long, searching tongue. Her legs spread wider, and her dainty hand cupped his stout erection.

His kiss was loving and affectionate, yet he was in absolute control. He cupped her jaw with a conviction that allowed no retreat. She couldn't have fought him off, even if she wanted to. He sucked on her lower lip, eliciting a heated moan. Any trace of willpower melted. His talented fingers opened her folds, twirling in and out. Her brain turned to mush as her body took over. She had no authority over the lustful thrusting of her hips, drawing him deeper.

Eager to touch him, she dug her hand under the elastic of his scrubs and his boxers to wrap around the hot, twitching manhood she found. With her fingertips, she followed the contour of Trey's flared head. It spread to a wide, prominent ridge where Roger had only a small, round bulb. As she stroked the young man's silky foreskin, Suzanne was intrigued by the swooping curve. Her husband's erections were straight as an arrow.

Maybe she was wrong, but Trey's might be thicker than Roger's, too. Suzanne's imagination conjured an impression of how it might feel inside her, causing her vajayjay to clench. Was that where this would end? She couldn't make herself consent to committing adultery. She wasn't sure if she could stop it, either.

Trey's fingers slid in and out of her, touching hidden places her husband had never found. Without losing their passionate kiss, he shuffled her backward until her butt bumped against her car.

When he broke contact, she felt empty and disoriented, but he grasped her slender waist to lift her easily onto the hood, then pushed her shoulders to lie back on the still-warm metal. He peered into her eyes as he lifted her skirt to her belly. She didn't object, and helped him shimmy her panties down her legs. He sniffed them, grinned his big grin, then set them on the window, resting atop a wiper.

At first she was embarrassed when he stared at her sex in the glow from the streetlight. Suzanne had always thought her sex was ugly and smelly. She hadn't shaved in ages.

He said, "Y'know, I work in OB/GYN." He ran two fingers in a vee up and down along the puffy edges of her seam. "I swear to God A'mighty, you got one of the purtiest pussies I ever seen, Miz Campbell."

A flush of pride filled her at the awe on his face as he gazed down between her legs.

He looked her in the eye. "I'm gonna have me that taste of delicious peach pie you promised me."

His words lit up a tingly rush that raced through her body. Suzanne pulled her knees back as he lowered his face.

The flat of his tongue laved the entire expanse of her vulva, from the hollow at the juncture of her legs to the dainty hairs on each of her labia. He sucked at her, his lips gathering the loose flesh to tug it gently away from her body.

Trey's unhurried tenderness delighted her. Although several boys had fumbled around down there with their tongues, she'd never known such a patient and skillful oral lover. Her husband usually licked her only until she got her wet enough he could mount her. A few times she'd enjoyed an orgasm from his mouth. That hadn't happened in a long time.

Trey's long tongue explored the depths of her groove. He slid a finger along her butt crack. She tensed, then jerked when he touched her dirty hole.

"No, not there."

Trey's tongue quickly distracted her by fluttering over her clit, sending elated chills racing through her. About that time, Suzanne noticed other pleasures emanating from the fingertip raking over her uncomfortably stimulating rear entrance.

More than once, Roger had asked to put his thing in her pooper. She had emphatically refused. She couldn't imagine what would make him think anything so nasty would be fun. Was that what Evelyn gave him? Suzanne's former friend had mentioned she shared her 'back door' with men who knew how to use it. The way Evelyn described it made Suzanne think it was something she had liked, but Suzanne couldn't get past the filthiness.

Trey was a nurse, though, wasn't he? He would know all about cleanliness and hygiene. If he didn't think it was a problem, why should she?

Suzanne relaxed her cheeks and yielded to his teasing. The sensations radiating from the tip of his finger sent her arousal climbing faster. She lifted her legs a little higher, spread them a little wider, offering better access to herself. Perhaps she had been missing something all these years.

She was re-thinking what Evelyn had told her when Trey moved his mouth lower, and suddenly it was his tongue prodding at her tooshie. She jerked again, except this time it was from the electric thrills spreading out from his wet, probing appendage. Suzanne was ecstatic. What a fool she'd been.

While Trey's tongue licked and stabbed at her anus, he wiggled two fingers into her vajayjay again, leaving his thumb to circle her excitable nub. A breathless Suzanne clutched at her clothed breasts as a tingly storm of pleasure swirled faster at the base of her clit.

In a flash, Trey's hand flipped over to plant his thumb on her rear. His lips clamped over her swollen clit and his thumb pressed deliberately at her secret place. The tip of his tongue flicked up and down along each side of the nub. The intense sensations whirled faster.

When his thumb penetrated the tightness of her ass, the climax came over her in a sudden rush, overwhelming her with its intensity. Clawing at her breasts, Suzanne shrieked, arching up above the hood of the car with her head thrown back. Her body went rigid, and exquisite thrills raced through her. Enveloped in a cocoon of ecstasy, she couldn't move, couldn't think.

When her rational mind returned, Trey was licking her bottom like a mother cat. Suzanne reached down to brush her fingers through his dark hair. She'd never experienced such consummate joy, such a sense of satisfaction. Why had Roger never made her feel this way? Were there other men out there like Trey? Men who understood what a woman really needed?

He stood up, pushing his scrubs and underwear down his legs. His curved cock with its broad, helmeted head waved enticingly.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, Miz Campbell."

She laughed softly. "I think we're past the 'Miss Campbell' stage, Trey. You can call me 'Suzanne'."

"Suzanne," he repeated softly, stretching out the vowels to make three soft syllables out of it--Soo-zaaa-uhn. The sound of her name never felt more beautiful.

He lowered his shaft, nestling the crown at the flooded well of her femininity. Her desire for him shattered any arguments for restraint.

"Fuck me, Trey." Suzanne had always been too shy to talk dirty, even though Roger had asked her to. This seemed like a good time to start, though. "Stick your gorgeous cock inside me. Fuck my pussy. Fuck it good, Trey."

He grinned, his big white teeth shining. "I never dreamed you was such a slut, Suzanne."

A slut... She smiled to herself, pleasantly surprised by her own lack of remorse. Yes, she could be a slut. Soozaaauhn, the slut. Slut fit her like a comfortable pair of CFMs.

She locked her ankles behind Trey's tight butt and pulled on him, drawing a sharp breath when his broad brim stretched her pussy open.

An unexpected bright light lit his face. She turned, looking up the street through the windows. A car was coming.

"Pull out! Hurry!" She rose up on her elbows. "They'll see us."

Calmly pressing on the center of her chest, Trey pushed her back down. "I don't care. Do you?"

Suzanne stared at him. He was right. Who gave a fuck whether some stranger saw a cheating slut screwing her secret, young lover?

She wrapped her legs around him again, tugging. "C'mon, Trey. You gonna' fuck my slut pussy, or not?"

His high-beam grin lit up in the headlights of the oncoming car. She gasped as he shoved his thick shaft deeper.

Damn, he felt good.

The car slowed as it drove past. Trey waved. Suzanne did, too. She heard two men laughing. One hollered out, "Yeah, fuck that nasty cunt!" With a beep of their horn, the car sped on down the street, the laughter fading away.

Suzanne smirked. "You heard what the man said."

She squeaked as he grabbed her hips to drive his cock hard, not stopping until his pubis banged into her clit.

She whispered "Fuck!" and twitched with titillating rushes that shot upward from the clash of their bodies.

Trey pulled back, then shoved himself in easily, eliciting a soft moan from Suzanne. Her ass rocked and gyrated as he fucked her slow and steady. She had once known her husband loved her, but she had to wonder why he had never once made her feel so desired when they made love.

Leaning over her, Trey unbuttoned her blouse, spread it open, and pushed her bra up. Coddling a breast in each hand, he gently squeezed her needy flesh and tweaked her nipples.

Suzanne turned her ashamed head to the side. "I'm sorry. They're so small."

Using a finger on her chin to turn her head back, Trey said, "Don't you talk about y'self that way. I think these titties is about perfect."

"You... you really like them?" Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Roger was constantly teasing her about her bee-stings. He'd tried to convince her to get implants. Like that whore, Evelyn.

"I love your titties, Suzanne. Lookit how they fit in my hands. They's just right for you. I wouldn't want 'em no different."

His adoration made her feel like a queen. The Queen of Sluts.

While he fucked her, he massaged her boobies and pinched the nipples, igniting hot wires straight to her clit. Suzanne was nearly giddy, enjoying the warmth and affection from her young neighbor. This was the glorious, loving feeling she had always wanted from sex. She never got this from her miserable, two-timing husband. He didn't have it in him.

Suzanne shrieked with another rush of tingles spreading up from her pussy. Trey had stabbed his cock into her again, slamming his hips ruthlessly against her bottom.

Wide-eyed, Susan gasped. "Wh-what did you--"

He did it again. And again. Wearing an impish grin, Trey seized her tits, using them for leverage to pull himself into her, smashing his bones into her vulva over and over. With each brutal collision, a new flush of exhilaration radiated up from her slutty cunt. Familiar tingles gathered in her belly again. Suzanne had never climaxed while fucking unless she diddled her clit. If he kept this up, though...

Trey was relentless. With savage intensity, he kept banging their sexes together until Suzanne took control of his hands, forcing them to crush her breasts. Her squeaks reached higher and higher. She went rigid and fell silent, shuddering as an intense orgasm swept over her.

She hadn't quite recovered when Trey abruptly pulled away. He rolled her over onto her belly before she could react. He lifted her skirt and she screeched as he slammed into her from behind.

Wedging his hands between her chest and the hood of the car, he grabbed her boobies again and pulled her upright.

He whispered into Suzanne's ear. "You're so fuckin' beautiful when you come on my cock. I want you to do it again."

She was about to tell him she didn't know whether she could when Trey's marvelous, curved penis startled her once again when it brushed against a place just inside her pussy that her husband had never touched. With each stroke, his shaft excited a fresh effusion of pleasure that jumped from one nerve ending to the next, until her whole body felt like it was vibrating with pure joy.

"Trey? I... I..." was all she could say before the synaptic flood overwhelmed her in a brilliant flash of euphoria.

Then it was Trey, driving harder, faster toward his need, muttering helplessly into her ear, "Oh, Suzanne. So good. I'm gonna come inside you now."

"Yes..." Suzanne sighed, reaching back with both hands, gripping his hips to feel the raw power in his frenzied thrusts.

He lunged hard, then again. She heard the passion in his long, deep groan and felt the pulsing of his cock. When the heat of his essence bloomed inside her belly, Suzanne knew she would never again be the same timid housewife who found the condom wrapper this morning. She was hooked.

Trey kissed her neck. Slowly, he withdrew, and turned her around. Their kiss was gentle, and loving, and it went on and on as his glorious spend trickled down her butt crack.

Suzanne decided she needed to do one more thing. After all, even a cheating slut like her still had responsibilities. She slid off the car, dropped to her knees, and took Trey's sticky cock into her mouth.

She had never taken any joy from the taste of semen. Roger had often complained she didn't let him come in her mouth.

This was different. Sure, the thick, musky bitterness was still there, though now it was mixed with her own lust. It wasn't bad. In fact, the longer she cleaned Trey's deflating penis--to his delighted twitches and moans--the more she grew to appreciate the complex flavors, not least because of where they came from, and how they got there.

When she was done, Trey pulled up his scrubs and helped button her blouse. With a devilish glint in his eye, he stuffed her panties into the back of his waistband. He put the flat tire and the jack in the trunk.

Tentatively, he said, "If ya'll want me to, I can come by tomorrow to git that tire repaired and put it back on for you."

"Make it early as you can." Suzanne didn't try too hard to hide her wicked smile. "My husband will be home around noon." She quickly added, "Bring a large cup of black coffee with you."

Trey flashed his big, toothy grin. "Yes, ma'am!"

She smiled to herself and pondered. How different this day would have turned out if only I'd had my usual, hearty morning coffee.

Suzanne watched as her tall, young stud hopped on his bike and waved at her as he meandered happily down the road. She smiled as she figured it was a safe bet Trey was the sort of guy who would know lots of things to do with a woman's ass. She would find out soon enough.

What a day! she thought to herself with a deep sigh. She shivered when a mild breeze blew up her skirt, tickling the hairs on her freshly-fucked pussy. Suzanne had never felt better about herself. She was free as the wind.

A few wrongs still hung in the balance. Those would be soon rectified.

She wasn't sure whether their marriage was going to survive, but Suzanne knew, as soon as her husband Roger walked through the door, he was going to find his wife naked and ready for business. First on the agenda was to suck him until he was hard, no matter whether Evelyn had just emptied his balls or not. Then she would fuck her husband with a pussy still swimming with Trey's sperm.

But she wouldn't lie to him, not like he did. Once she got her loving husband into her new slut pussy and racing for the finish--"putty in her hands..."--she would tell him everything she'd done.

Sometime this weekend Suzanne planned to have a long, heart-to-heart talk with her best friend. There would be anger, of course. And tears. She didn't see why they couldn't strike some sort of truce, however. Especially if Evelyn could offer a few pointers on blowjobs and this slut thing. Plus, a recommendation for a good divorce lawyer.

First thing Monday, she would demand a private conference with her boss about the supervisor position. Suzanne would show him she had what it takes to get the job done. She wasn't leaving his office until she got that damned promotion and his black cock was going fa-lump, fa-lump, fa-lump.