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From: Anon Sacto <anoninsac@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} All Men Cheat (MF) [Anoninsac}
Date: Mon, 15 Apr 2002 16:10:02 -0400
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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is
copyright with all rights reserved by its author
unless explicitly indicated. Author Anoninsac.
Non-commercial re-posts to ASSM or similar venues are
allowed provided copyright information remains on the
re-posted story. Please do not delete the copyright
information. No commercial reprints are authorized.

The author appreciates constructive criticism at
anoninsac@nospam.yahoo.com, remove the nospam for
e-mail address. Any errors in typing are strictly the
fault of the keyboard. I know I hit the right key.

If you like this story, see my other stories at
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anoninsac/www.

WARNINGS: This story depicts consensual sexual
activity between men and women. No testing on animals
was involved in the production of this story. If you
live in a backward society, like the United States or
Afghanistan, in which it is illegal for you to know
about sex or read sexual materials immediately delete
this from your computer and scourge yourself with a
whip for having any sexual thoughts. If you are under
the age of 18 please continue to pretend you don't
know about sex and continue to get each other pregnant
in increasing numbers so that we have more young
single mothers raising children. Don't learn about
safe sex or contraception as these are tools of the
devil. Please do not masturbate while reading this
story in public places as this can excite the
authorities into rash conduct and result in grave
consequences for you.

                   All Men Cheat

All men cheat. Some men cheat between their ears and
keep their little head in their pants. Some men chase
women like it's an obsession. It is an obsession when
you think about it. And some men cheat and don't admit
it. Eatin' ain't cheatin', it ain't no disgrace. But
if her lips are on your willie, it's cheating even if
you are the president. 

All men cheat. The good men and the bad. The smart men
and the dumb. The handsome men and the ugly. A few
years ago Miami decided to publicize the names of men
getting busted chasing hookers on the streets to
discourage such pursuits. Well, the first week they
caught the local Catholic bishop, a police Captain and
the head of the FBI office in Miami. After that, they
decided to no longer publicize the busts. Clark Gable
was known to use prostitutes. When asked why he paid
for sex when he could have any woman in America he
answered, "I don't pay them for sex. I pay them to
leave afterward." Or how about the Dean of the Harvard
Divinity School having to take a sabbatical because of
the porn they found on his office computer? Or Hugh
Grant getting busted in his car with a hooker while he
was bedding one of the most beautiful women in the
world? Makes no sense you say? You're right unless you
realize men have no more control over those desires
than they have over breathing.

I was sitting with a bunch of guys on a coffee break
one morning. A statuesque blonde in a tight dress
walked through the cafeteria. All our heads turned to
follow her out the door. Before I had a chance to turn
back I heard Eddie saying, "I don't see how she can
even walk." We all looked at Eddie with brows
furrowed. "Yep," he said. "She just got fucked twenty
times in five seconds." We all broke up. It was true.
I looked around and there were twenty guys all looking
at the door and every one of those guys had humped
that blonde as she walked through the cafeteria.

Men are polygamists all the way down to the bone.
Nature has designed us that way. We are designed to
spread our seeds far and wide because that has always
given our ancestors the best chance to pass on their
DNA. The more women you hump, the better chance your
genes have in making it to the next generation. We are
the products of a thousand generations of cheatin'
men. And the cheatin'est men were the ones who passed
on their traits. Natural selection has worked its way
and men just want to have sex all the time with all
the women. For us modern men the best you can do is
keep your cheatin' bone in your pants and keep your
cheating between your ears. I was always able to do
that until one day...

                      *****

I was browsing my usual porno, I mean adult oriented,
sites. I used a fake e-mail address for signing up for
these sites to keep the endless Spam away from my real
e-mail. I'd check it every few days and delete the
endless solicitations for Viagra, penis enlargement
and teen sluts who wanted to take it up the ass. 

Hmm, if you got the penis enlargement pump, took
Viagra and found that teen slut would she really want
to take your mechanistic, chemically altered MASSIVE
STEEL HARD cock anywhere at all yet alone up her ass?
Or would she laugh her ass off at the bruises from
that magic pump on your pathetic wiener? Somebody
doesn't think very much before they write that crap do
they? Or maybe there are men who send off the $39.95
guaranteed to make them a horse-hung stud. Maybe. 

One e-mail caught my attention: 

Hi. Did You Post On ASSD Last Night? 

What the hell? I tried to remember if I had left my
e-mail address. I try not to as the damn spambots just
pick it up and increase the deluge of ridiculous spam.
I clicked on the e-mail.

"I really liked what you said. I found it witty but
also very true about a serious topic. 

Hope you don't mind me e-mailing. Do you?

Samantha"

Who the hell is Samantha? I didn't know anyone named
Samantha. It didn't feel like a spam come on. It was
certainly flattering to the ego to be told I was
bright and witty. So I answered.

That's how it started. An innocent e-mail. That's all
it took to end up... But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Samantha was an interesting and exciting woman. We
liked the same things; Kubrick was the greatest
director, Walton the finest symphonist, Syrah the best
wine. She and I seemed like the same person. She
always seemed to know exactly what to say to make me
feel better. Then she started to flirt, just a little.
I assumed she was across the country. Hell, she could
have been in another country for all I knew. I flirted
back. Then one day she sent me a fantasy. A very
graphic fantasy. One that ended up with me between her
legs madly fucking her. Not that I minded having a
woman desire me, but it scared me a little.

I confessed to being married thinking that would put
her off. I mean women don't like to flirt with married
men, right? Wrong. She said that was fine. She didn't
mind at all. In fact, men need some freedom and she
understood that. She wasn't interested in stealing me
from my wife. She just wanted to use me for pleasure.
She asked me to send one of my fantasies about her. I
was still feeling a little unsure, but it was so
heady. Almost like champagne to have this women desire
me so. I sent her the fantasy that had been going
through my dreams nearly every night. 

In my dream we were both naked. I was behind her
kissing her neck. She turned and pressed her body
against mine. I kissed down to her breasts taking her
nipple in my mouth. My hand cupped her pussy, finding
her wet. I worked my finger into her; slowly fucking
her while massaging her clitoris with my palm. She
begged me to make her cum. I carried her to the bed
and fell between her legs, my face buried in her
pussy. I ate her until she screamed out her orgasm and
flooded my face with her cum. 

She loved the fantasy telling me that she had made
herself cum with her fingers while reading it. But she
thought it was too bad that I hadn't cum in my dream.
But she knew what that meant. It must be that I was a
considerate lover whose concern was making sure my
partner's satisfaction came first. It made her want me
to see for herself if that was true.

I was feeling funny. I was getting too involved. I too
wanted to see her. She was invading my waking hours
with her fantasies. Her fantasies were becoming mine.
I was addicted to the e-mail on my computer, waiting
for her next missive, waiting for the next jolt of
Samantha drug. She was a drug providing pleasure and
becoming irresistible and essential in the process.

She sent me a new fantasy about a masquerade ball in
her town. I recognized it from the ads in the paper.
It was happening here in three weeks. My God. Samantha
lived here. Maybe she lived down the street from me.
Maybe she was a check out lady at the supermarket.
Maybe she was the mayor. Oh God, I hoped not. That was
one battle-ax of a woman. I shuddered at the thought.

The next e-mail from me described the masquerade ball
so that Samantha would know that we lived in the same
city. I waited in horrid fascination wondering what
would happen. I could think of a thousand outcomes.
Everything from, she would be frightened that I was
stalking her and I'd never hear from her again to
she'd send me her address and invite me to come over
tonight. I waited.

When it came she was practically screaming in
response. We were in the same city. She was so excited
and happy. We had to find a way to get together. Then
she said that she had the perfect idea. Why not get
together at the masquerade ball? Nobody would know who
we were. We could meet and nobody would be the wiser.

I knew that was impossible. How could I take my wife
to a ball so I could meet another woman? Impossible.
Until later that day. My wife had to go out of town in
three weeks, leaving Friday afternoon, the night of
the ball and coming back Sunday afternoon. I just
shook my head. It was like the universe was scheming
to get Samantha and me together. Some wild Kismet was
orchestrating work and geography and time to throw us
together.

Fate is implacable and only a fool resists his fate. I
said yes to Samantha's idea. She told me to go to a
specific costume shop that she just visited and told
me what to wear. She also described her costume that
was on hold so I could recognize her that night. I did
as ordered.

The days leading up to the ball were spent exchanging
wild fantasies of what would happen that night. An
orgy would break out and the entire ballroom floor
would be covered with copulating couples. We'd sneak
under the main table and screw while people filled
their plates with food only to be discovered as
Samantha screamed out her orgasm. Or we'd sneak back
behind the band and I would dance inside her in time
with the music until we both had shuddering orgasms.

I kissed my wife as she headed off to the airport on
the fateful Friday. As soon as her car disappeared
around the corner I rushed off to the costume store to
pick up my apparel for the evening. I was to be
dressed in a long black cape and black slacks. The
mask covered my eyes and forehead but left the mouth
free. Samantha had a female version of the outfit
except her mask had long iridescent green feathers
creating an exotic look. 

I went home to wait. I kept looking at the time. The
hours dragged by. Finally, it was time to get dressed.
I admit to feeling a bit absurd. Luckily it was dark
by the time I left and hoped the neighbors wouldn't
see me. I arrived just as they opened the doors. I
wandered around sipping wine and looking for the
costume. Some people had masks but many did not. I was
looking for a black mask with long green feathers.

I saw her across the dance floor. She was standing and
looking at me. I could tell she was waiting for me to
see her. As soon as did, she set down her glass and
turned to walk toward the back of the room. I
followed. She was waiting at a side door almost hidden
behind a potted tree. As soon as I was close she
disappeared through the door. Following her I saw her
disappear through another door. I hurried to catch her
but again I saw another door closing on her back. I
rushed forward to open the door and saw that it led
outside to a darkened court. I saw her crossing the
court in the faint light. Tracing her footsteps I came
to an alcove hidden from view and by the surrounding
dark. 

She had turned and was waiting for me. As I walked up
she put her arms around my neck and pulled me to her
for a kiss that started slowly but built to a kiss of
wild passion. When we broke I started to say something
but she put her finger to my lips. I recognized this
as one of the fantasies she had sent to me. I knew
what was coming next. She knelt in front of me and
pulled out my cock already three-quarters erect. She
licked the tip before taking it in her mouth. I was
quickly hard as she worked her mouth around my cock.
Once I was hard she stood and lifted her dress
revealing that she wore nothing underneath. She turned
and bared her ass to me while leaning on a sash in the
wall. I moved behind her and reached between her legs.
My hand slid between her labia. She was wet and I
spread her lubricating juices around her pussy. Taking
my cock in hand I guided it to her opening. It entered
her hot pussy easily. I grabbed her ass and started
fucking her trying to use the leverage to rub my cock
against her clitoris. Starting slowly I let the
intensity and tempo build until I was pounding into
the white ass before me. Because of the dark and her
black clothes it was like I was fucking a disembodied
ass and legs. A magical ass that was jutting from the
wall just to be fucked. The pressure was mounting and
the pre-cum tingles were working their way into my
balls. Samantha started to moan softly and was pushing
back to meet every stroke. I felt my cock bathed in
sudden heat and wetness as she gasped and moaned.
Knowing that she was cumming pushed me over the edge
and I emptied myself into her waiting pussy. 

Drained from cumming, I pulled out of her and fell
back against the wall. Samantha stood and came over to
kiss me. We broke the kiss and I said, "That was
wonderful." She kissed me again before stepping back
to adjust her dress. My head fell back against the
wall and I closed my eyes to let the sensations wash
through my body. I had just had a fantasy come to
life. How strange it all was. Meeting Samantha that
way. The subtle flirting that set the stage. The
discovery that we both lived here all leading to this
moment of completion. I opened my eyes and saw only
black courtyard. Samantha had disappeared.

Stuffing my cock back in the slacks I quickly
re-traced my steps. Back in the ballroom I looked all
over for her but she was gone. I wandered around for a
while hoping she would reappear but she never did. I
finished a glass of wine I had picked up and headed
home.

When I got home I noticed the bedroom light was on.
Funny, I thought I had turned it off. But I was so
distracted I could have left the door wide open and
wouldn't have noticed. I threw the mask and cape on
the living room couch to remind me to take them back
first thing Saturday morning.

I walked into the bedroom and stopped in the doorway.
A sick feeling descended on me. My stomach knotted up
and I felt briefly like I was going to be physically
sick. On the bed, my wife lay stretched out,
completely naked reading a book.

"I wondered when you were going to get home," she said
in a neutral tone of voice as she threw her book on
the end table.

I couldn't say anything. I was waiting for the world
to end when out of the corner of my eye I saw
something. On the door to her closet was a black
dress. On the hanger was a mask with long iridescent
green feathers. In an instant it all became clear. It
wasn't fate orchestrating my downfall. It was my wife.
She knew every button to push. No wonder Samantha was
just like me. No wonder she knew exactly what to say
and when.

I looked at my wife lying and the bed and she smiled
at me. All I could say was, "Why?"

"Because I wanted to and because I knew you'd like it.
I've seen the look in your eye sometimes. The
seven-year itch building. So I decided to scratch it
before you did yourself. Look at this way. You get to
cheat and you don't have to feel guilty afterward.
It's the best of both worlds."

"But I did cheat, at least I thought I did."

She laughed. "All men cheat in their minds. I just
wanted to make sure that when you did it, it was with
me. And it was fun, wasn't it?"

I nodded.

"I was telling the truth about making myself cum from
your fantasies. Do you know how many time I had to go
to the bathroom at work and bring myself off or I
would have left a wet spot on my chair? Now, come here
and fuck me. It's my turn. I don't want that slutty
bitch to be the only one to get laid tonight."

I stripped off my clothes and walked over to the bed.
She rolled to the edge and took my cock in her mouth.
It quickly responded. When it was hard she rolled over
to the middle and spread her legs. I lay between them
as she took my cock and guided it to her pussy. She
was still wet from our earlier fuck and I slipped in
easily. 

"Fuck me," she said. "Fuck me like you did that slut."
So I did.


__________________________________________________
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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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