It was a girl's night out gone wrong. We all met up at a club that's a renowned meat market so we could enjoy getting hit on - after all, it's flattering to be told you're hot when you're pushing 35 and a member of the PTA. But my best friend, who's single and very liberated, took things beyond flirting. On the dance floor, she ground her ass against the crotch of her date. Then she brought him back to our corner of the club and started going down on him, right there in the open. There's something about watching a nice blow job that lessens the inhibitions, and pretty soon a few of my other friends were heading off to parts unknown with guys they'd just met. I resisted, but a gorgeous young thing kept chatting me up, and when my curfew approached I agreed to drop him at his flat on my way home. Dumb move. He kissed me goodbye, and my resolve evaporated. We sucked tongues, and pretty soon I found myself unzipping his fly, my mind a swirl of desire and guilt. Oral isn't cheating, right? But having a cock in my mouth has always made me want more, and pretty soon my panties were on the car floor, my skirt was hiked up, and I was in his lap, humping away, moaning hungrily at the feel of him riding up into me. He was fabulous, driving me over the edge and then, while I gasped and spasmed with pleasure, pressing me down atop him so he spat his load deep into me. I felt guilty as hell when I got home, looking at my sleeping kids and husband. Oh well.