#Cheating #Mature
By IronKnucklesMike
Winter is here, and with it comes the assistance of roadside service.
My name is Michael Falcone, and I run a roadside assistance service in my spare time. I’m usually not too busy during the bulk of the year; but when Winter hits — whoo boy, let me tell you… the calls come in pretty much nonstop. Something about cars and cold weather. And it’s that time of year again.
It had been a long day, and I was ready to head home. Another HVAC job done, another paycheck earned. The cold was biting as I walked to my car, the sun dipping low and turning the snow-covered streets into a glittering scene. My boots crunched against the icy pavement as I unlocked my sedan. All I could think about was sinking into my recliner and maybe pouring a drink when my other phone rang—the one for roadside assistance calls.
Pulling it out of my jacket pocket, I saw a number I didn’t recognize. I debated ignoring it, but something told me to pick up.
“Mike speaking,” I said, my voice gruff and to the point.
“Hello, um… is this the roadside assistance service?” The voice on the other end was soft and distinctly British, a little flustered but polite.
“Yeah, that’s me. What’s going on?”
“This is Wendy,” she said quickly. “I’ve just finished some Christmas shopping, and my car won’t start. I was hoping you could help?”
“Alright, Wendy,” I replied, shifting into work mode. “What’s it doing when you try to start it?”
“It makes this dreadful rapid clicking noise. Nothing else happens.”
“Sounds like the battery,” I said, already running through possible fixes in my head. “Where are you parked, and what kind of car are we dealing with?”
“I’m at Birchwood Mall. It’s a red Toyota RAV4 Hybrid.”
“Got it. Stay put. I’ll head over. Should take me about 30 minutes.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” she said, and I could hear the relief in her voice.
I hung up, climbed into my car, and drove straight home to grab my work truck—a beat-up but dependable Chevy Silverado with everything I’d need in the back: jumper cables, a portable battery pack, and a toolbox that had seen better days. The truck grumbled to life as I backed out of the driveway, the snow crunching under the tires as I set off toward the mall.
*~*~*
The Birchwood Mall parking lot was almost deserted. Most shoppers were long gone, leaving rows of cars half-buried in snow. It didn’t take me long to find the red RAV4 under a flickering streetlamp. A woman stood next to it, shifting from one foot to the other like she was trying to stay warm. She was bundled up in a long wool coat and a bright green scarf, her long red hair catching the faint glow of the light above.
I parked beside her and climbed out of the truck.
“You must be Michael,” she said with a warm smile, her British accent making the greeting sound more elegant than it had any right to be.
“That’s me,” I replied, pulling on my gloves. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”
She stepped aside as I popped the hood of the RAV4 and hooked up the portable battery pack.
“Go ahead and try it now,” I called out.
She got into the driver’s seat, and after a few sputters, the engine roared to life. I heard her sigh of relief from inside before she climbed back out, her cheeks red from the cold.
“You’re a lifesaver,” she said, flashing me that smile again. “I was starting to think I’d be stranded here all night.”
“Happy to help,” I said, closing the hood. “Battery was drained. Could’ve been a light left on, or maybe the cold got to it. Either way, it should be good now. Just drive for a bit to recharge it.”
“Thank you,” she said again, softer this time. “You didn’t have to come all this way tonight.”
I shrugged. “It’s my job—and it’s Christmas. Everyone deserves a little help.”
She tilted her head, her smile widening. “Well, since you saved me, the least I can do is buy you a cup of coffee. Are you in a rush?”
I hesitated. It had been a long day, but there was something about her that made the idea of a warm drink and some conversation sound a lot better than heading home alone.
“Coffee sounds good,” I said finally.
“Perfect,” she replied, her eyes catching the faint light. “There’s a cozy little café not far from here.”
I climbed back into my truck, watching her in the rearview as she got into her RAV4. For a night that had started out so ordinary, it seemed to be taking an interesting turn.
I followed Wendy’s red RAV4 through the quiet, snow-dusted streets to a small diner on the edge of town. The neon sign above the door flickered in the cold night air, and the soft hum of a Christmas melody spilled out as we stepped inside. It was cozy—checkered floors, worn leather booths, and the comforting aroma of fresh coffee mingled with the faint smell of frying bacon.
We slid into a booth near the window, where the snow outside glistened under the streetlights. A waitress in her late fifties shuffled over, smiling as she handed us menus.
“What can I get you folks tonight?”
“Coffee for me,” I said, and Wendy echoed my order with a charming smile.
The waitress nodded and disappeared behind the counter.
“So,” I said, leaning back in the booth, “Christmas shopping, huh? How bad was it?”
She laughed, and the sound was warm and musical. “Oh, it was dreadful. Crowds everywhere, and I’m pretty sure I got elbowed twice in the electronics section. But I found what I was looking for, so I suppose it was worth the trouble.”
“And what’s that?”
“Gifts for my family,” she said. “Though I’ll admit, I might have bought myself a little something, too.”
“Let me guess,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “A bottle of wine and a box of chocolates?”
Her cheeks flushed, and she gave me a mock-serious look. “How did you know?”
“Just a hunch,” I replied with a grin.
The coffee arrived, steaming and rich, and we both took a moment to savor the warmth.
“So, Michael,” she said, her eyes meeting mine over the rim of her cup. “Do you always work this late, or am I just lucky tonight?”
“Depends,” I said, setting my cup down. “I get a lot of calls this time of year. People stranded in the cold, cars not starting, you name it. But I’ll admit, I don’t usually meet anyone quite as interesting as you.”
She tilted her head, her red hair catching the light. “Interesting, am I? And what makes you say that?”
I shrugged, letting the corner of my mouth tug into a smirk. “Something about the way you handled that car trouble. Most people panic. You sounded like you had it all under control.”
“Well,” she said, leaning forward slightly, “you’d be surprised what I can handle.”
There was a playful glint in her eyes, and I felt a spark of electricity pass between us.
The conversation flowed easily after that—lighthearted banter, stories about work, and the occasional flirtatious comment that left her laughing or me grinning. Time slipped away as the diner’s sparse crowd thinned, and the waitress began wiping down tables in the background.
Eventually, Wendy set her empty cup down and looked at me with a smile that felt just a little more mischievous.
“Thank you for joining me for coffee,” she said. “And for saving me tonight. You’ve been wonderful.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “I’m glad I could help. But… maybe I could do a little more.”
Her eyebrow arched slightly, curiosity mingling with amusement. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”
I hesitated for just a moment, then decided to take a shot. “How about you come over to my place? Something a little… warmer than coffee might be just what we need.”
Wendy’s lips curved into a slow smile, her eyes sparkling as she studied me. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, letting the tension hang in the air. Then, she leaned back in her seat and said, “You know what, Michael? I think I’d like that.”
The night outside seemed to grow a little quieter, the snow falling softer as we got up to leave. Something told me this evening wasn’t over yet.
*~*~*
The drive back to my place was quiet, the tension between us hanging thick in the air, unspoken but palpable. Wendy followed me into the driveway, parking her RAV4 behind my work truck. I unlocked the door and stepped aside to let her in, catching the faint scent of her perfume as she brushed past me.
“Make yourself at home,” I said, flicking on the lights in the living room. The warm glow from the Christmas tree filled the space, the ornaments sparkling like little stars. I grabbed the remote and put on a playlist of jazzy Christmas music. Soft saxophone notes and smooth vocals drifted through the air, making the room feel even cozier.
“This is lovely,” Wendy said, shedding her coat and draping it over the back of the couch. She sank into the plush cushions, her green scarf still wrapped loosely around her neck. “It feels like something out of a Christmas card.”
“Glad you like it,” I said with a small smile. “Wine?”
“Wine sounds perfect,” she replied, her smile warm and inviting.
I left her in the living room and headed to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. The sound of the cork popping echoed softly as I poured the dark liquid. I took a moment to steady myself, then returned to the living room, handing her a glass before taking a seat beside her on the couch.
We clinked glasses. “Cheers,” I said.
“To unexpected adventures,” she replied, her eyes twinkling over the rim of her glass.
The wine was rich and smooth, and the conversation drifted back to lighter topics—her shopping adventures, funny stories from my job, the way the snow outside seemed to transform the world into something magical. But then Wendy’s tone shifted, her smile fading just a little.
“I should probably tell you something,” she said, her voice quieter now.
I raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
She hesitated, staring down at her glass for a moment before looking back up at me. “I’m… married. My husband’s been away for work and won’t be back until sometime next year.”
I blinked, unsure how to respond at first. “I see. That must be hard, especially during the holidays.”
“It is,” she admitted, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It’s been hard for a while now. The distance, the time apart… It feels like we’re living separate lives sometimes.”
I nodded slowly, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying.
“We have two daughters,” she continued, her expression softening. “Britney’s 19, just starting college, and Courtney’s 22—she’s married with her own family now. They’re wonderful girls, but with them gone and my husband so far away… it’s been lonely.”
Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and she quickly took another sip of wine, as if to steady herself.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice low. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
She looked at me then, her gaze steady and searching. “It’s… nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who listens. Thank you for that.”
“Anytime,” I said, meaning it.
The moment hung there, heavy and charged. The soft glow of the Christmas tree reflected in her eyes, and the slow rhythm of the music seemed to pull us closer together.
Wendy set her glass down on the coffee table, her hand lingering on the stem for a moment before she turned to face me fully.
“Michael,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I didn’t reply. Instead, I leaned in, my hand resting gently on her cheek as I closed the distance between us. Her lips met mine, warm and soft, and the world seemed to fall away.
The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that carries with it all the unspoken words neither of us dared to say. When we finally pulled back, her face was flushed, her breath mingling with mine in the stillness.
For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence saying more than words ever could.
Wendy’s hand lingered on my chest as she caught her breath, her eyes searching mine with a mixture of hesitation and something deeper—something electric. For a moment, we stayed like that, the glow of the Christmas lights painting soft shadows across her face, the jazzy carols humming in the background. Then she smiled, slow and sure, and leaned in close enough that her words brushed against my ear.
“Take me to your bed,” she murmured, her voice both an invitation and a challenge.
I froze for just a second, my pulse quickening, but the way she looked at me—confident, almost daring—left no room for doubt. I nodded, rising to my feet and offering her my hand. She took it, her touch firm and warm, and I led her down the hall to my bedroom.
The room was simple but cozy, bathed in soft amber light from a bedside lamp. A heavy quilt lay folded at the foot of the bed, and the faint scent of cedar lingered in the air. Wendy stepped inside, letting her gaze wander over the space before turning back to me with a small, knowing smile.
“Quaint,” she said teasingly, slipping her scarf from her neck and draping it over a chair.
“I like to think of it as homey,” I replied, leaning against the doorframe.
She laughed softly, the sound warming the room as she stepped closer, her fingertips brushing lightly against my arm. “It’s perfect.”
The tension from earlier returned, thick and heady, but it felt different now—less tentative, more certain. Wendy reached up, her fingers tangling in the fabric of my shirt as she pulled me down for another kiss. It was slower this time, more deliberate, like we had all the time in the world.
Her hands slipped down to my waist, and she guided me back toward the bed. I followed her lead, the world narrowing to just the two of us as the rest of the night faded away.
As we sank onto the mattress, the atmosphere seemed to shift. The snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the world in silence, while the warm light inside cast everything in a golden glow. The moment felt both grounded and surreal, like something out of a dream.
Her laughter broke the silence as she tugged at the edge of my shirt. “You don’t strike me as the shy type, Michael.”
“I could say the same about you,” I said with a smirk, slipping her jacket from her shoulders and tossing it aside.
Time seemed to slow as we let the rest of the world fade. The music from the living room drifted faintly down the hall, mingling with the muffled sound of the wind against the windows. Everything felt amplified—the warmth of her skin, the softness of her touch, the way her breath hitched when my fingers brushed against hers.
Every movement was careful, deliberate, as though we were writing a story that could only be told in the language of touch. It wasn’t just risqué—it was intimate, electric, and somehow… magical.
When we finally paused, lying side by side beneath the quilt, the soft rise and fall of our breaths filled the space between us. Wendy turned to me, her red hair splayed across the pillow, her eyes still bright with that same mischievous glint I’d seen back at the diner.
“This,” she said softly, tracing a finger along my jaw, “was exactly what I needed tonight.”
I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’m glad I could help.”
She laughed, a sound that felt like it belonged here, in this moment. And as the snow continued to fall outside, I couldn’t shake the feeling that, whatever came next, tonight was something neither of us would forget.
I reached over and pulled her against me, feeling the lingering chill on her smooth skin as our bodies touched. I stared into her eyes, whispering, “You are absolutely beautiful!”
Wendy smiled that perfect smile and lazily traced patterns on my chest with the tips of her fingers. “I could say the same thing about you,” she said with a grin, echoing my earlier statement. Then she took my hand and put it against her supple breast.
I could feel her rapid heartbeat beneath, vibrating into my palm as her nipple began to harden against my touch. I began to squeeze her perfect breast, tugging on her erect nipple. Her eyes closed and a soft whimper escaped her lips. My hand continued it’s way down her body as I leaned in to capture her hard nipple with my lips and teeth, flicking my tongue rapidly back and forth. Her breath hitched in her throat as I felt her hand on the back of my head, holding me in place.
My hand found her most intimate area. She had a beautiful patch of hair that my fingers gently teased, and she shifted positions, now lying supine with her back arching off the bed. My fingers finished their journey, delving between her legs, teasing her clit that was now hard. I could feel how wet she was as it leaked out of her.
I couldn’t resist. My mouth was watering, and I needed to taste her sweetness. I kissed my way down her body until I came face to face with her glorious pussy. My tongue snaked out and gently teased her clit, and she moaned, pushing my face into her.
“Stop being so God damn gentle and get in there, Mike!” She said. I almost lost it. I moaned against her clit as my face pressed harder against her. I used my fingers to spread her lips apart, and my tongue shot inside of her, slipping as far in as I could get, my lips clamping down around her with a suction force I didn’t even realize I had.
Her body moved, her legs spreading further apart, my beard and mustache grinding against her as I spent several minutes lapping up her sweet wetness. She tangled her fingers in my hair and ground her pelvis against my face as I continued my onslaught of her senses.
“Fuck, baby, yes!” She moaned. “Tongue fuck my pussy, Mike. Make me cum all over your face!’
I didn’t need to be told twice as I began to shake my head from side to side, my nose pressing and flicking against her clit, my tongue going wild inside her delicious pussy. I could feel her walls clenching around my tongue, wanting greater friction, when she pulled my face up and looked into my eyes.
“Fuck it! I need you inside me now!” I had never seen a more frightening and equally arousing look in anyone’s eyes as hers. I pulled away and stood up, slipping out of the rest of my clothes, my thick 7 inch cock springing to life in front of her.
Wendy’s eyes went wide as she smiled, licking her luscious lips. I got on my knees in front of her, when she turned over, glancing back at me over her shoulder.
“Fuck me, big stud! Just not in my ass. That’s off limits,” she said. That’s fine, I thought as I took my cock in hand and guided it to her sweet entrance, sliding it inside her. Despite having had a couple kids, she was tight, and I noticed that the deeper I went, the tighter she got.
I moaned as the tip of my cock nestled into the tight passage, as far as I could go inside her. But she didn’t seem to mind, by the cacophony of sounds escaping her lips. She reached a hand down between her legs, her slender fingers with red and green painted nails playing with her clit as I started to ram into her, my balls slapping against her fingers.
I gripped her hip hard with my left hand and smacked her ass, leaving a red hand print. She let out a whimper. “Do it again,” she said in that sexy British accent of hers.
I continued smacking her perfectly plump ass, causing it to turn beet red, eliciting sounds of pure pleasure from her with every thrust and smack. I reached forward and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. “Look how fucking sexy you are, Wendy! On all fours for a total stranger.”
She moaned loudly as I continued smacking her plump ass. She began slamming back against me, seemingly wanting my cock to go deeper inside her.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Baby,” I said breathing hard. “I’m gonna cum already!”
“Not inside me, Mike! Don’t you…”
Before I could pull out, I shot my load deep inside her tight little tunnel, sending ropes of burning cum into her womb. I let out a long wailing moan, holding onto her hips. Wendy screamed in ecstacy as her own juices flowed, mixing with mine and covering my cock.
After a moment, we came down and I leaned over her, still inside her, throbbing. I moved her hair to the side and kissed the back of her neck. “I’m so sorry,” I said, breathing hard. She collapsed into the bed, her body quivering.
“I have pills. It’s not that big of a deal,” she whispered. “But I noticed you still haven’t pulled out yet.”
We lay there for several more minutes, catching our breath, when I finally pulled out of her and turned over on my back. That was when she decided to take the opportunity and climbed on top of me, sliding her pussy against the underside of my now semi-hard cock, her hands firmly planted on my abdomen, gripping what she could of my 6 pack. She stared hungrily into my eyes, biting her lower lip, her beautiful red hair cascading down around her face.
I moaned as my cock reacted to her stimulation. “I guess you’re not finished?” I asked as my hands found her hips again. She didn’t say a word, only grinned, still biting her lower lip. Fuck, she was sexy as hell!
She slid forward on me, found the tip of my cock pressing against her entrance, now fully hard again as she wiggled around until it slipped inside her once more. Her eyes closed and her mouth fell open with a moan.
“You’re so fucking thick!” She said in a hoarse whisper. She ground her pussy hard against me, my cock moving around inside her with her movements. She leaned down, pressing her tits against my chest as her lips met mine in a hungry display of wanton desire. My tongue slipped into her mouth, dancing with hers.
She rode me for several minutes, grinding back and forth, then up and down. My hands moved from her hips to her tits, teasing and fondling again.
We remained this way for another half hour before desire took us and we ended up cumming hard once again.
She collapsed on top of me and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her as we both came down from our second round. After awhile, she rolled off of me.
The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the Christmas music still playing faintly from the living room. The golden light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over us as Wendy and I lay on our backs, catching our breath. The quilt had slipped to the floor, but neither of us moved to retrieve it.
She rolled onto her side, draping an arm over my chest and snuggling into the crook of my shoulder. Her red hair tickled my skin, and the scent of her perfume lingered like a memory I didn’t want to fade.
“That,” she murmured, her voice soft and content, “was exactly what I needed.”
I chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Glad I could help.”
For a while, we lay there in silence, the weight of what had just happened settling over us. But as the moments stretched, a thought crept into my mind that I couldn’t ignore.
“What about your husband?” I asked, my voice low.
Wendy shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to look at me. Her expression was calm, even amused, as if she’d been expecting the question.
“Michael,” she said gently, brushing a hand along my chest. “Don’t worry about him.”
I frowned. “You don’t think he’ll find out?”
She smiled, a wry, knowing smile that made her look impossibly beautiful in the soft light. “Even if he did, it would be fine. The truth is… we’re almost like swingers. Not officially, I guess, but we’ve both been open about the fact that we sometimes—how should I put it—’explore our options’ when the other isn’t around. Of course, he will often let other guys fuck me if he can join in.”
Her words took a moment to sink in. “Wait, so he knows?”
She shook her head. “Not about this, no. But he’s not exactly innocent himself. He’s always had a wandering eye, and I’m certain that while he’s off wherever he is now, he’s found some cute little hussy to keep him company.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
Wendy shrugged, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin. “It used to, years ago. But I’ve come to accept that we’re both happier this way. There’s no jealousy, no sneaking around. Just… freedom.”
She looked up at me then, her gaze steady and unflinching. “I didn’t do this to spite him, Michael. I did this because I wanted to. Because I wanted you.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her cheek.
“You’re full of surprises, Wendy,” I said finally.
She laughed softly, the sound like a warm breeze on a cold night. “You have no idea.”
The weight I’d felt earlier began to lift, and I let myself relax into the moment. Wendy settled back against my chest, her head resting in the hollow of my shoulder.
“Michael?” she said after a while, her voice quieter now.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” she said simply.
“For what?”
“For making me feel like myself again.”
I didn’t respond right away, but I tightened my arm around her, pulling her closer. The snow continued to fall outside, and the music played on, wrapping us in a cocoon of warmth and quiet contentment.
🔞 Candy.AI 🔥 AI Sex Chat – Roleplay, Erotic Stories, Try for Free 🕹️
By IronKnucklesMike
#Cheating #Mature
