Unplanned

Cheating Short Stories · approx. 6 min read · 18+

The ashtray rattled in my hand as I stubbed out the last butt — and suddenly I realized I was sitting with my neighbor on a dusty forest track on a Tuesday afternoon, while his car ticked softly. Completely absurd. And yet it had all started so innocently: a brief chat over the garden fence, him with a cup of coffee, me with the watering can. “My car’s making strange noises,” I said, and he offered to take a look. Now mine was in his driveway, and he said he just needed to grab something quickly. “Want to go for a ride?” he asked. I nodded without hesitation. My husband was on a business trip, the kids were at school, and the sky hung in a tired blue that tasted like adventure.

I felt a strange tension spread through me as I took the passenger seat. The smell of leather and something masculine I couldn’t name enveloped me. He started the engine, and the vibration of the car beneath me felt oddly soothing. I looked over at him: his hands on the steering wheel, the tendons standing out under his tanned skin. His profile was sharp, his jawline prominent. He wore a light blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, so I could see his forearms — strong and hairy. A slight shiver ran down my spine, and I wondered why I had never noticed this before.

The Forest Edge

He steered the car down a dirt road that wound between tall clumps of grass. The sun hung low, casting long shadows. “It’s beautiful here,” I said, more to myself. He nodded, turned off the engine. Silence. Only the soft chirping of a cricket and the distant crack of branches. I felt my heart beat faster, a dull thud against my ribs. “Shouldn’t we go back?” I asked, but my voice sounded brittle, unconvinced. He turned to me, his eyes searching mine — a dark blue that held me captive. “Not yet,” he said softly, and his hand landed on my knee, light as a feather. The touch burned through the thin fabric of my summer pants. I could have pushed it away, but instead I opened my legs a crack, a silent invitation he understood immediately. His fingers wandered slowly higher, stroking the inside of my thigh, where the skin is most sensitive.

I held my breath as his hand slid further up, over the soft fabric, until it reached the warmth between my legs. He pressed gently, and I felt my body respond to his touch — a wave of heat radiating from there and spreading through my belly. I closed my eyes, let myself fall into the feeling of his fingers stroking me through the thin panties, pushing the fabric aside to glide directly over my wet slit. “You’re already wet,” he whispered, his voice rough, full of desire. I opened my eyes, looked at him. “You did that,” I breathed, and a smile played on his lips.

The Touch

I closed my eyes and let my head sink back against the headrest. “This is crazy,” I whispered. He leaned over to me, his mouth close to my ear. “I know,” he breathed, his breath hot on my skin, sending a shiver down my neck. His lips touched my earlobe, then glided over my neck, a trail of kisses and moist warmth. I let out a soft moan, a sound that hung between us. His hand was now under my blouse, his fingers playing with the edge of my bra, hesitating for a moment. I wanted him, felt the desire rise deep inside me, hot and urgent. “Take it off,” I said hoarsely. He obeyed immediately, deftly opening the clasp with one hand, and the bra fell away, the air cool on my skin. His hand cupped my breast, his thumb stroking over the hard tip, circling slowly. I bit my lip to keep from being too loud. Outside, I heard a bird, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore except his fingers, making me tremble, while a deep pulling began in my lower abdomen.

I grabbed his wrist, guided his hand to my other breast, which now also craved touch. He understood immediately, massaging both breasts at once, pressing and kneading them, while his mouth wandered down my neck until he took a nipple between his lips. A shiver shot through me as he sucked on it, his tongue circling the hard center. I arched toward him, pressing my breast deeper into his mouth, while my hand tangled in his hair. “Yes, just like that,” I panted, and the sound of my own voice, so full of lust, surprised me. He switched sides, attending to the other breast too, leaving neither untouched. I felt the moisture between my legs increase, a longing throb that demanded more.

The Exchange

I turned to him, my hands running into his hair, pulling him to me. Our kiss was greedy, demanding — a struggle for dominance that quickly gave way. His tongue met mine, a dance of heat and saliva that left us both breathless. I felt his hard cock through his pants, pressed against it, and he groaned into my mouth. “I want you,” he pressed out, his voice rough with arousal. “Then take me.” My voice sounded foreign, deep and full of longing. He slid the seat back, pulled me onto him. I felt the fabric of his pants under my thighs, the heat radiating from him. His belt clicked, the zipper gave way. I reached into his pants, grasped his shaft. It was hot and smooth, the glans wet, a drop of pre-cum on my fingers. I stroked it with my thumb, and he flinched hard. “Don’t,” he panted, “or it’ll be over too fast.” I smiled, let him go, pulled off my pants while he helped remove the panties. Then I sat astride him, his hands on my hips, fingers digging into my flesh. I guided him into me, slowly, inch by inch, feeling him stretch me, fill me. We both moaned — a deep, throaty sound. I paused when he was fully inside me, looked into his eyes. His gaze was glazed, full of desire. Then I began to move, up and down, a rhythm that seized us both.

At first slowly, I savored the feeling of his full length inside me, how he filled me and opened me a little more with each thrust. His hands wandered from my hips to my ass, gripping me, helping me with the movement. I braced myself on his chest, let my head fall back, as I rocked in circles. A soft moan escaped me, and he answered with a deep, vibrating groan.