1. Dirty Little Secrets 2: One Step Leads To Another


    Date: 9/3/2015, Categories: Wife Lovers, Author: PervyStoryteller, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    loving husband? I know I’m being silly, because it must happen that way, but I can’t fight the feelings. I depend on my secret admirer. It’s the knowledge that he’s there that makes me perform the way I do. If I stop performing so well, maybe John will succumb to other temptations on his travels. I don’t really believe he will. John is good and faithful, but these things happen; the fear is there. I come out of the shopping centre with a new battery in my old phone and a pay-as-you-go package. “You’re lucky we still have batteries for this old model,” the shopkeeper said to me. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to invest in a newer model?” Hoping fervently that the newer model I already have won’t go off, I said, “Oh, I’m sure this old thing will satisfy my needs a while longer,” then go hot all over thinking how my old phone might be a way of satisfying certain other needs. Exactly how, I’m not sure. In fact I’m not even sure what needs I’m trying to satisfy. After all, it’s not as if things can progress much further. I don’t want to cheat on John; not physically with another man. Back in the car I think how stupid I’ve been. I’ve wasted money in taking a step that has to be the last. But one step always leads to another. Besides, I hate wasting money. I tell myself that it’s this last thing that finally solves my agony of indecision. One minute I feel I can’t possibly take another step, the next I’m halfway there. And one step always leads to another. Shortly before I ...
    prepare for the evening’s performance, I scribble my new number on a slip of paper and sellotape it to the outside of the bedroom window. Back inside, I regret it almost instantly, but don’t go out to remove the slip of paper, telling myself it’s because I’m afraid I’ll encounter my secret admirer. His place is outside and mine inside. It’s stupid and ridiculous because if I really wanted to talk to him, I could do it through the cracked open window when the camera’s off. I’m neither stupid nor ridiculous, but for some reason I can’t stop myself from doing what I’m doing. I’m a bundle of nerves as I perform, but I cum hard. The next morning there’s a text message from my beloved husband. He tells me it was a sensational performance, that I was on fire, that I’ve seldom looked hotter. I blush and feel terrible, knowing that my performance owes everything to the thrill of being watched by my secret admirer, and knowing that he now has my phone number – one of them. I should throw the phone away, or at least never switch it on. But one step leads to another. Every day I switch the phone on when I get in my car after work, and don’t switch it off until I turn out the lights at home to go to sleep. I feel both disappointed and relieved that it doesn’t ring. I know that my secret admirer watches me, because I find his little “gift” in the morning, and the next morning. Then John is home for a week and I keep my secret phone off permanently. I’m taken upside down and back to front, and I ...
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