He drove up as they were getting ready – daypack, some water bottles – and pulled into the spot next to them. This was noticeable – Thursday afternoon and the parking lot was almost empty, but he parked right next to them in his flashy convertible. Julia wasn’t sure what kind of car it was – some kind of very racy BMW in a light metallic blue, but it drew both their eyes. Joe looking over in obvious jealousy, Julia somewhat intrigued. The top came up almost instantly, but she got a glimpse of short brown hair (military?), an impression of physical strength. He emerged and looked at them boldly, with a big smile saying, “Well howdy there folks!” Joe mumbled something as she finished her meager packing – trying not to stare at the young man next to them. Not huge but physically somewhat imposing, with broad shoulders, thick arms and legs – he was wearing a white, almost transparent top and black running shorts, and as he bent over to wrap his car key in his socks she couldn’t help but look out the corner of her eyes at him. Thick calves that flexed nicely as he bent over, and then he was springing up and she almost started guiltily – she was sure somehow he knew she had been peeking. “Hey! They both jerked to look at him. “Have a good hike!” He sprang off at a fast clip past the visitor center, disappearing down the lead trail in a few moments.

“What a weird guy, huh?”

“Uhhh – yea. Weird.” Julia looked back at her husband, and couldn’t help compare him for a second. Skinny, little, but most of all, a wimp. That young man (definitely military) radiated confidence, not just physical but personality as well. You just knew he would have a circle around him at a party. Joe was always hesitant, always starting things he couldn’t finish, always talking about big plans that turned into odd jobs. Thank God for her steady salary – but this was unfair. He had taken her to the state park for a hike today (his current job gave him most days offs), and she should be grateful. She forced a smile to her face and said, “Anyway, let’s take that big loop trail around the base?”

I was a nice hike, pleasant weather, with only one small thing marring it. At one point Joe had blurted out

“No way could he run the Peak like that. Just showing off…” Julia realized he was still thinking about the man in the convertible; Joe must have realized how resentful he sounded and he trailed off. Joe was always resentful of other men who he perceived as stronger or more forceful (which was almost every man he knew), bouncing between bragging about he would pay someone off one day (always said at home, to her) and cowed compliance. She wondered why she had ever married him – why when she had such contempt for him she still loyally stayed by his side. It was not in her upbringing to change she supposed (nor his – he would always be a wimp).

Her thoughts had wandered back to the pleasure of the park and trail after a while though, and they came back to the lead trail in a good mood, just in time to catch sight of the same young man. Their trail came back into the lead trail; they would go to the right back to the visitor center and parking lot. To their left the Peak Trail poured back into the lead trail, and down the trail she could pick him out, leaping and running like a mountain goat at a frightening clip, then leveling out on the soft sandy path they were on the cusp of. He flashed by them in a sweaty blur, arms and legs pumping furiously as he finished in a dead sprint. She met Joe’ eyes for a second before they stepped onto the trail to make their way back – he flushed red in self-inflicted humiliation. They made their way back to the water fountains and bathrooms, and Julia noticed now that their Civic and the convertible were the only cars left in the lot – even the Rangers had gone. They had to walk past the men’s room to get to the water fountain, and both of them jumped a bit as it burst open right in front of them. Him again, soaking wet, his shirt now see through (God he was muscular and hairy. The hairy part didn’t appeal to Julia, but she couldn’t help but notice, even when startled, how powerful and thickly muscled he was), and he laughed.

“Sorry! Sorry about that,” flashing teeth in a loose, easy grin. And then, as they drank from the fountain, he just sat on of the wooden benches, staring at them – even as she bent over she was conscious of his glance on her legs and buttocks – appraising her. It was kind of scary now. They were alone, this stranger was paying way too much attention to them, and he could effortlessly hurt them she knew. Joe could no more deal with him than a child could. But even Joe would have to do something – the man was just eyeballing them and smiling, and Joe seemed to gather his courage and turn to face him. A long, long moment as Joe stared at the man’s feet, and then lifted his glance to look him in the eye. A queer expression came over his face, and all that came out was,

“Uh, I need to go to the bathroom.”

Joe fled (what the hell was wrong with him Julia fumed?), leaving her alone with a predator; he was leaning back, indolent, soaking the bench with his sweat and she almost couldn’t understand him when he spoke.

“What?’

“I said, what’s your name?” “None of your business,” was poised to come out but with a flush she heard herself say,

“Julia.”

“Julia,” he laughed, “like Julia Goolia in the Wedding Singer?” She nodded inanely. A tiny part of her wanted to run, tell him off, but for the most part she felt completely cowed by him – she felt small and weak. “Well Julia Goolia, since your husband is so busy in the toilet, and you so desperately need to get fucked, why don’t you go in the ladies room and grab a sink? I will just get one more load of water in me and be right there.”

Julia was stunned – the very idea, no words to express her outrage, to think that a stranger would say something like that to her – and then she realized two things. She was already inside the ladies room heading towards the row of sinks, and she desperately needed to be fucked. It was true. His arrogance and confidence had lit a fire in her, and she seemed to be unable to control her body. Blood pounded in her ears, her vision swam and her breath labored as she bent over and clasped the nearest sink, sticking her butt out, ready to be fucked. Fucked – the word pounded in her brain, she was wet and excited between her legs, her stomach was doing flip-flops – she had never known this kind of excitement in her life. She moaned when she heard the door open behind her, glanced back to see him swagger in. Even now, the non-sexual part of her mind (small, at this moment as it was) knew she needed to stop this, be faithful; she was married. She was babbling now, explaining that she was married, she couldn’t do this, it wasn’t right, she didn’t know what had come over her – and as he reached under her, his front heating her backside she shuddered in an almost orgasm. Her mouth was flapping but he wasn’t listening. She could blab all she wanted but he would take what he wanted. His strong hands under her, undoing her belt, unsnapping her shorts and pulling them and her panties down – against her will (part of her will) she helped him by stepping out of her panties and shorts. He pushed her shirt up, undoing her bra strap but leaving the bra on – she knew now that she didn’t want to be fucked in a public restroom at a state park by a stranger while her husband hid. She didn’t want that at all – but she needed to be fucked. Her body, her body needed it the same way she needed to breathe.

He was bent over her now, already soaking the back of her shirt with his sweat – God he was like furnace, no wonder he sweated so much – and she pushed back and arched her back slightly to help get him in her. Her folds parted suddenly and he was in her, gloriously in her, oh God he had a big dick (the knowledge that her husband didn’t made her shudder again). That cock was in her; he was folded over her, his big body completely covering hers as he slowly fucked her. Nothing sexual before had ever approached this, pleasure coursing madly in her as she defiled her wedding vows with a stranger. His hands wandered up under her shirt and loose bra, cupping her breasts, squeezing and then pulling and tugging on her nipples. She realized that he found pleasure in treating her tits roughly (they were tits to him, not breasts she somehow knew), she pulled back and hissed her approval as he yanked on her nipples. She went slow when he wanted to, ground back when he got excited. As great as the pleasure between her legs was, getting him off seemed to loom 100 times more thrilling. The time came for him to come in her, his movements and breath grew more pronounced, and one hand grabbed her crotch to firmly yank her in as he pounded her. The last shred of her rational mind gasped out,

“Please don’t come in me,” she owed it to her husband not to get some disease, but he didn’t miss a stroke. Ignoring her feeble protest he slammed into her one last time and then erupted in her, pumping his seed, a stranger’s seed, into her belly. His complete disregard for her, his use of her, taking without asking, just dumping his come in her because it felt good to him made her convulse in pleasure. She came, came in an almost violent convulsion at the knowledge a stranger was coming in her without any regard for her wishes. This was sex, this was pleasure and excitement, because she had needed to be fucked and this animal took and her and fucked her like she needed. Even as she came though a part of her paid attention to him, trying to milk him and give him as much pleasure as possible – a curious pride and gratitude coursed through her. She had gotten him off, got this virile brute to come in her, had pleased him, and that was the center of her high – she had gotten him off. She realized she could stand again on her own – he had been supporting her.

“Dress me.” Of course. She turned to face him, looked down at his shorts and then knelt submissively on the cold tile floor of a public restroom. The shorts were some black shiny material, soaked and now cold. She helped him put them on, holding them out for him to step in like some Roman handmaiden. Serving him was erotic, and seemed appropriate – he had after all fucked her when she desperately needed it. Gratitude and service seemed right. As she pulled the shorts higher he stopped her and wound his hand in her hair, pulling her to his crotch.

Of course. She needed to clean him off. In any other circumstance she would have been loath to lick her juices off a cock – never mind that, even put a cock in her mouth – here it was the right choice. She looked up at him. From her perspective on her knees he loomed over her – she felt powerless and crushed and burning with need to do what he said, what he wanted. She would do anything for him right now she realized. She gratefully took his still hard member in her mouth. She relished the taste of their mingled cum, lovingly licking him clean, servicing the cock that had just claimed her.

She put her shorts on and followed him out. The restrooms were under a narrow porch, railed and benched. As he walked past the water fountain Joe choose that moment to emerge from the men’s room, in the way of her lover (the betrayal and heat of that thought made her weak in the knees again). Her lover stopped for a moment, and whatever he had in his eyes made Joe scramble out of the way. He walked away, and Joe turned to look at her – took in her disheveled state – she realized her bra was still undone. Joe looked at her in shock and hurt, and whirled around to yell,

“Hey!” at the young man’s back. He turned and came back slowly, and with infinite patience looked at Joe.

“What is it, brother? How can I help you?” The ghost of that grin played at the corners of his mouth – 5 seconds, 15 seconds – still no answer from Joe. “Whatever.” He grinned. Still Joe was pathetically mute. “You folks have a nice day.” As he walked away again, got in the car and put the top down, Julia was torn between a rapidly expanding guilt (What the hell had she been thinking?) and a pathetic desire to throw herself at his feet, beg him to use her again – and he was gone.

Every minute that went by in the silence of the car ride home magnified her guilt and astonishment. What the hell had happened? Was she going crazy? She had just let a stranger make love – oh that was false – fuck her, in a public bathroom. She had humiliated and betrayed her husband (the word “betrayed” still sent a frisson of pleasure through her though) and been treated like a whore. The pleasure, the excitement, the high had faded now, leaving only regret and humiliation.

Silence still as Joe showered and left for his current job working at a bar, and she was left alone to feel miserable, to cry and hate herself.

4 AM and Joe crawled into bed – usually she would roll over and go back to sleep but she reached out to him in a desire to make some amend – he clung to her and soon they were locked in a clinch – he was grinding against her with a hard on. They made love then – Julia was unable to say, “I’m sorry,” so she said it instead with her body. But as Joe moved in her, her mind drifted to HIM, to his thicker, longer cock, but that wasn’t even it, she found she was spreading her legs and then wrapping them around her husband but it was HIM she was fucking, so hard and mocking and maybe a bit cruel but most importantly in complete control. She came, crying softly, still a traitor to her husband in her heart.

That betrayal made her convulse, it made her orgasm and made it sweet.

Two weeks went by of her efforts to “make up” to Joe, compounded by his ability to completely fuck everything he touched up. He missed a job interview (overslept) to get a much better job that would have meant a lot to them financially – and then compounded it by buying on credit just enough stuff to half build a pond in their backyard. Half-built, and why the hell would they need a carp pond in their backyard? There were a hundred things around the house that needed work, and he wastes money on a GD artificial pond.

That was when the door opened.

Julia had been “good” for a week, but twice now this week she had let out the built up frustration by making love to herself after Joe went to the bar, building a careful fantasy where HE used her again and again for his pleasure. She remembered his olive skin, tanned, his military and “high” haircut, and especially his scent. Men don’t notice scent the way women do – she had been imprinted by his scent. She came so hard, thrusting against her fingers, wishing to God it was HIM getting off, thrilled by the idea of pleasing him and getting the smallest crumb of approval for her devotion, and wishing she could see Joe’s face as it happened. God, the imagined hangdog expression Joe would have made her almost sick with excitement.

That second Thursday since “it” happened - Joe opened the bar – he would work two shifts and promised to pay off the pondstrosity. She had a half-day on Thursday – she slid around that in double-think all day. As she drove out to do some errands she studiously avoided any thought of the state park – until she pulled into the parking lot.

Her heart skipped a beat – there it was. She had looked it up on the internet – a BMW Z4. She even knew the name of the color now: Maldive Blue. It was sleek and powerful – it was a statement she was sure, she parked as near as she could and sat in the car as it got warmer and warmer until she had to get out, go to the benches by the restrooms and sit in the shade. Thirty or forty minutes later her anxiety had mounted to a fever pitch when he came out of the tunnel of trees at the trail head. He was shinning wet in the sun, wearing the exact same outfit – she felt real panic and also that elevator drop feeling of incredible excitement at the same time. He should she run – too late he had seen her. Even though he was almost staggering in exhaustion, hands up taking deep gulps of air, he grinned at her from 20 yards away, and then started to wall towards her.

It was all the more crushing then when a very pretty young girl, maybe 22 or so, jumped up off the curb and ran up to him, excitement in her whole posture. Julia felt numb as they walked up, he still grinning at Julia with his blonde little hottie. All she felt now was depressed, shabby, stupid. She had come here with some vague hope of committing adultery again – not even the grace of having second thoughts – she was just trumped by someone prettier and younger. She thought she might be sick. If her body had obeyed her then she would have turned and crawled away in humiliated rejection.

“Hey…it’s a,” he snapped his fingers at her, “Julia Goolia, right?” In a small voice,

“Yes.”

“Well all-right. This is Allie. Allie, this is Julia Goolia.” The young blonde girl, who Julia was prepared to hate at first site, looked at her with such mute misery in her eyes that Julia at once understood that here was another pitiful junkie. He left them there alone for a few minutes while he drank, drank again, and yet again in huge gulps. Eventually he came back, still smug and tan and big and laughing his big laugh at the world. Anyone else, she would wan to wipe that grin off his face – but for him she wanted to fall to her knees in obeisance. “So, Julia Goolia, why are you here?”

A hundred things raced through her mind, but none of them could come out. Instead a voice she had no control over said,

“I was hoping you would - fuck me again. My husband is at work so maybe you could – could take me back and, uh, use me more comfortably.” She finished lamely. She had gone mad again – out of control, as if another’s will controlled hers. She wished she could die – the earth crack open and swallow her.

“That’s a flattering offering. Except well, Allie was hoping I would play with her. Isn’t that right Allie?” An actual tear slipped from her eye as she said,

“Yes. Please.” Julia found that her capacity for emotional pain was higher than she had thought – instead of being numb, each moment this torture stretched out brought a higher level of misery.

“But! You may be in luck Julia. You see, Allie isn’t a very nice girl. No, Allie is a very sick girl. She gets her kicks in a weird way. Tell her, Allie.” In a whisper then, a shattered and broken voice,

“I like. I like – I.” She sniffled some. “I like to be treated like shit by you. I like being teased and frustrated.” She looked up now. “I like being rejected. It makes me want to be better for you and I get off on it.”

“Wow. Kismet or what? You need to get fucked Julia, by me, in your marriage bed.” Julia stiffened at that – misery and then surprise washed away in a shock of lust. “And ole Allie here just doesn’t deserve me. I mean, it would be sheer waste of cock to touch her. So Allie, you can find a ride home on your own.” Tears were cascading down the young girl’s face; she was a picture of mute agony. And yet – the nipples on her small breasts poked through her shirt like metal studs, her chest was flushed, oh Julia had an inkling of how she was feeling.

The ride back was dangerous in that Julia was constantly looking back to make sure he was still following, not teasing her as well. Finally home, and the staggering thought that his flashy BMW would be in her driveway for every neighbor to see and tell Joe – oh God that was a hot image. She wanted her neighbors to tell – wanted them to see what a whore she was acting like.

Her hands trembled putting the key in the lock, his presence looming right behind her. Wordlessly she led him to her bed, Joe’s bed, their marriage bed. “What are you going to do here Julia?” he asked quietly.

“I am going to get fucked by you for your pleasure. I – I am going to give myself to you, please you and be taken by you, and it is going to be in my husband’s bed because you can take, you have taken me away from him.” He smiled at her, and her whole heart lit up with delight. She was a good girl! She had gotten a pet on the head like a good doggie – if she had owned a tail it would have wagged it.

Her gratitude mounted as he let her strip him. Running her hands over his shoulders and the muscles that stood up his neck – what were they called? His chest was very hairy, broad with a deep cleft between the muscles – massive thighs. Most pleasing was a simple black lettering “USMC” tattoo in script letters on his upper arm. It was the perfect complement to him – minimalist but powerful.

He lay back in the bed, spread his legs, and she looked at him in hunger.

“You know Julia, you are just in love with my cock, aren’t you?” Oh God it was true she thought. She gazed at it with even greater admiration, adoring it – perfect and thick, the huge uncircumcised head drew her eye and her heart. This was what love felt like. Like a teenage infatuation only 100 times more real. She longed to serve this cock. “You love it so much you need to show me with your mouth how devoted you are. You burn to use your hands and mouth to make love to my cock, prove your love.” Trembling in awe now she took his cock in her small hands, then moved one down to fondle his balls. She closed her eyes as she stuffed her mouth full of his gorgeous cock. Her pleasure mounted as he become strainingly hard. She almost wept with devotion and love, for the chance to show she loved him, loved his cock. It was bulging her cheek out, the only cock she had ever had in her mouth and she had her jaw stretched open, sliding her tongue on him, slobbering down his length. She used her hands to make adoring love to his cock and balls, her own personal god, while she sucked and licked that smooth cockhead and upper portion. She did her best to go at his pace, completely focused on giving him pleasure – her pussy burned with a red-hot fire that she ignored. The emotional bond of submissive love and giving she found in him was ten times greater. She loved being a nasty cocksucker for him. His orgasm came on suddenly, without warning, but since she was completely his she smoothly began to gulp down his seed. She was swallowing another man’s come and she was saying

“I love you,” again and again in her head as she swallowed.

She was permitted to crawl up next to him, curl up against him in post-service bliss. One hand idly played with the hair on his chest as she savored the incredible intimacy of the moment. Burning, churning, almost riotous lust co-existed in her breast with complete peace at the prospect of having shown him how much she loved his cock – a cosmic steady state.

“That was nice Julia,” he murmured, and her heart swelled at his praise. “Get me hard again so you can get me off in your cunt. I know the idea of giving your pussy to another man, a real man, makes you crazy.” Now the balance was tipped – lust burning hot enough to make the rest of her catch on fire.

“Oh yes, Oh I do want that.” Her hands were working him now. “It does make me crazy – you make me crazy.” As his cock grew harder that curious, swelling pride awoke in her – she was being such a good girl for him! “I’ll do all the work, so I can betray my little hubby and give you what you deserve.” Lowering herself onto him, enveloping him in her slick, dripping sex was even better than before since she was helping, actively giving herself to the man who had taken her will. He felt so big in her, so powerful, that grin again as she posted up and down on him loving him for all she was worth. “Please, please come in me. Please give me your come. It’s all – uh – it’s all I want.” She was grinding against him, filled with a need to please him that hurt, and she brought his hands up to her breasts. “Please, please come in me baby. Please fill my belly with your come.” Those strong hands were squeezing her hard, and she felt it then – his release into her.

Nothing could be better than this. It was all to much – his pleasure, her pride in getting her man off, the sweet evil of having defiled her marriage bed: the contractions of her belly and pelvis were convulsive and strong as she came on him.

Later, hours after he had gone, sanity returned, and her old friend guilt. Tears filled her eyes as she genuinely wondered if she was sick, needed to be in a hospital. Something was wrong with her, and she wept.

But not before she had made herself raw and sore, replaying what she had done to orgasm after orgasm. Even in her genuine guilt, she knew she would do it all over again – and most likely do it again in the future.