Eager to escape the boring bonds of matrimony, a wife embraces her wild side — and a hot, young hunk.

Emergency rooms are often crazy, and during the last full moon, mine seemed even more so.

I’m a nurse, a damn good one, and me and my fellow Florence Nightingales handled that insane shift with our usual expertise. And though we’re calm and collected for the most part, there’s no doubt our jobs are also very stressful.

In the midst of all that work drama, I got a text from Richard, my husband of five years: “Please pick up milk on your way home.”

I glared at the screen.

“What’s wrong?” Nora asked. She’s the nurse who’d helped train me as a new hire. We’re very close.

I showed her the text and told her, “He’s home right now, grading research papers. There’s a corner store a block and a half away from our apartment. He can’t fucking go get milk himself?”

My voice had gotten loud. It was the stress, but it was also Richard’s insensitivity, which showed itself in odd ways sometimes. There was no “I love you” attached to the message, nothing to acknowledge that my day was ten times more stressful than his.

Nora patted my arm and said in a playful tone, “I keep telling you, you should come to the jamboree.”

She’d been mentioning this “jamboree” for months. The shindig was a down-low event at a local bar, and every full moon they had a special night for married women — and guys other than their spouses. Unaccompanied ladies sporting wedding bands drank for free, and — to hear Nora tell it — a veritable army of handsome single men showed up, men who all had a serious thing for married women. Nora said she got treated like a queen there and also claimed she’d had her pick of hot hunks.

“If you’re going tonight,” I heard myself saying, “I want to go with you.”

Her eyes lit with mischievous surprise.Way back when, Nora told me she hadn’t set out to cheat on Harold, her hubby. But he’d been neglectful and unappreciative, and she had eventually given in to temptation. Now she fooled around with a new guy every month, limiting her infidelities to that special night.

“You won’t regret it, Becky,” she said with a grin.

We both went back to work. I made sure I focused on what I was doing, but a remote part of me couldn’t believe what I had just agreed to. I had never cheated on Richard, who — despite his lapses — was a loving, caring husband.

Yet, the selfish side of me wanted some attention. I worked hard. I deserved to be courted, and a crowd of flirtatious admirers would surely do me a lot of good. Besides, I didn’t have to go home with anybody. There was nothing wrong with just checking it out, right?

However, when Nora had told me about her first jamboree experience, she’d omitted no details, which clued me in that my evening had a good chance of being less than chaste. Her story played in the background of my mind as I dealt with incoming patients on that crazy, full-moon night.

Nora had described the jamboree’s venue as a typical watering hole, with a bartop, stools, tables, a dance floor and a sound system. She also gave me a play-by-play of her first night there — and what happened afterward.

When she’d first walked in the door, the place was already crowded. There were other women, but mostly it was men. Virtually every set of eyes swung toward her, assessing her and — she was certain — undressing her mentally.

The attention unnerved her a little at first. She had been dragged there by a friend, one who’d assured her she was within her rights to do something indulgent. She was a vibrant woman with needs. If her husband was going to neglect her, well, she had to look out for herself.

It was indeed true that the few ladies in attendance didn’t pay for drinks. But further, Nora explained after she’d ordered her first cocktail men competed with each other for the privilege of delivering it by throwing fistfuls of tip money at the bartender.

One guy, with a hot gleam in his eye, won out and proudly passed Nora her gin and tonic, which she happily sipped. The man introduced himself as Wallace. They chatted casually while other guys hovered nearby — apparently ready to jump in if she showed any signs of disinterest toward her first suitor.

All the women there were being similarly treated. None of it was hostile. It wasn’t a place full of creeps. But plainly the women had a special status in the eyes of these eager dudes.

Every one of them kept staring at the wedding ring on her finger, Nora had told me. If it weren’t her free-drink talisman, she would have considered taking it off before going in, but at that notion her friend had also replied, “Uh-uh, Nora. A ring is like catnip to these toms.”

As Nora cautiously nursed her drink, Wallace got replaced by Terry, who was later swapped out for Jamal, who in turn got edged out by Raul. Each man had his own brand of charm. Most were quite good-looking, she recalled.

She took a few spins around the dance floor. She found she enjoyed the physical contact that came with that. When she danced with a man named Virgil, she realized he was sporting a rather serious hard-on in his pants.

Rather than recoiling from it, Nora pressed against him. The feel of his erect cock thrilled her, awakening desires that had lain dormant for too long. As the dance progressed, she ground against him. His face was flushed, and lust blazed in his eyes. He wanted her badly; it was plain to see.

There was a last moment of hesitation. But then Virgil took her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed the ring on her finger.

“I sincerely hope your husband one day realizes how beautiful and worthy you are,” he told her gallantly.

That sealed the deal. Twenty minutes later, they were back at his place. Once she’d committed to that adventure, she went all the way. In his bedroom, Nora practically tore him out of his clothes, and she stripped just as fast.

They dove onto the bed. She grabbed his jutting cock, and he groped her breasts. She started jerking him. He slid his hand between her legs and stroked her slick slit. She was so ready to screw him.

But first she wanted to taste his prick. She boldly flipped him on his back and hunkered between his legs. Without any fanfare, she dropped her mouth onto his cock.

Virgil cried out as she sucked him right down to his balls. Her tongue slithered around his shaft, and she cradled his sac in her hand, squeezing gently to add to his pleasure.

She almost took things too far, but Virgil exercised impressive self-control by pulling her off him. He then reciprocated the oral act, going down on her until she came all over his face.

Then they were screwing, locked together, cock to pussy. He hammered her, and she bucked and wriggled. They rolled back and forth across the bed, assuming a variety of positions. As he banged her, her orgasms slammed through her one after the other.

For Virgil, it must have been a dream come true. He fucked her like a maniac, and when he was finally on the brink of blowing his load, he cried out, “I fucking love married cunt!”

Then Nora joined him in his climax.

Her story was permanently lodged in my head. I had to admit more than once I’d cut and pasted myself into her erotic fable. Except I knew it was no fairy tale. It had really happened, and a similar incident had occurred the next time Nora had gone back.

And I knew it was absolutely possible it could happen to me that night — if I let it.

I had doubts all during the rest of our shift. But when it came time to leave the hospital, I still wanted Nora to take me to the jamboree. Richard could deal with his milk situation by himself.

When we arrived, I saw immediately that Nora hadn’t exaggerated the size of the typical crowd. The place was packed, and the male/female ratio was as she’d described it.

And yes, as we entered I felt that sea of male eyes turn toward us. There was a collective hunger in those gazes. Those men wanted us — because we were married women. (But I’m sure it didn’t hurt that Nora and I are both hot, too.)

The attention was like a caress. We walked to the bar and placed our orders, but again it was like Nora had said. Men literally threw cash on the bartop for the honor of being the ones who handed us our drinks. Nora’s gin and tonic was presented by a muscular buck. Mine came to me from the hand of a stud with a boot-camp physique and an eager look in his eyes. I thanked him and took a demure sip, unwilling to commit to anything just yet. At that point, I was just finished with work and blowing off a little steam, which I justly deserved to do.

Nora flashed me a grin and quickly got herself whisked away to the dance floor. I watched as she traded off partners again and again. She wasn’t there to run off with the first man who ogled her. Hell, she could get that kind of action anywhere. She obviously was soaking up the attention and enjoying every second of it.

I parried a few conversational feints. I wasn’t rude to anyone, and surprisingly no man was pushy with me. Everyone had brought their best manners, as if charm and civility were as important there as fitness and looks.

But I could feel the general state of arousal in the place. It was, in its way, almost laughable. Why were those men all so turned on by the fact that willing married women were there? What was it about that status that so inflamed them? There were so many flushed male faces about, so many bulging crotches, that I couldn’t count them all.

I retreated to what looked like the quietest corner of the bar. I found a man sitting alone at a small table. He immediately rose, stopping just short of bowing to me. He said, “Would you like this table? I can go elsewhere.”

Somehow, that was just the right thing to say.

“Sit with me,” I said. He didn’t sit back down until I was in my seat. He had a handsome face. I guessed him to be my age. He certainly seemed to have a fine frame beneath his dressy clothes.

But his manner was different from the other guys. He had the lustful gleam in his eyes, yes, but it was more of a wistful look, as if being there were a futile endeavor. Strangely that endeared him a little to me. He was something of a relief to be around after all the intense attention.

“I’m Becky.”

“Roger.” He halfway succeeded at a smile. Despite the obvious desire in his eyes, he barely met my gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” I queried. He nodded. “What exactly is the lure of a married woman to you?”

“That’s quite a question.”

“I’d love an answer, though.” I gave him a smile of my own.

He thought, and finally said, “It’s like you’re goddesses. Unreachable. Someone in this world has already committed fully to you. A married woman is a splendid creature.”

I reached my hand across the table and took his. I was going to compliment him on his eloquence. Instead I heard myself say, “I want to go home with you.”

My words seemed to stun him, but he didn’t hesitate. Hand still in mine, he rose and led me swiftly out of the jamboree. In no time, we’d arrived at his apartment.

My heart raced, and my whole body tingled. I felt an excitement that was intense and only distantly familiar. It had been a long time since I’d felt that electrified, I realized. I couldn’t lay it all on Richard. I had let myself get stuck in a rut.

But there was a way out. I wouldn’t let my husband find out about my adventure. I definitely didn’t want to hurt him, but I had to think of my own needs.

I turned to Roger. It was the moment of truth. I stepped up to him, leaned in and waited for him to do the same, so we could have our first kiss.

There was an instant of shivery uncertainty, then his mouth moved against mine, and I was kissing — really kissing — a man other than Richard for the first time in years. Roger’s lips moved softly against mine. He seemed to be savoring the experience as much as me.

I wanted more of him. I unbuttoned his jacket and his shirt. Our kiss became a thing of delving tongues. Our mouths ground together as he tugged at my clothing.

In moments, we’d both stripped completely. I stepped back, catching my breath, and surveyed his glorious body. He was in fine shape. His cock stood out like a ramrod.

He looked me over with panting wonder. I wanted to touch him everywhere. I wanted to taste him — to have him. Together, we got onto his bed. I had barely noticed anything about his apartment. I knew nothing, really, about him. But Roger was going to be my lover that evening, on the night of the full moon.

We resumed kissing, and his flesh pressing against mine sent torrid thrills to every nook and cranny of my body. My spirit soared — along with my libido.

My hands roamed over his body, lingering on his muscles. He touched my breast, tentatively at first, but when I sighed with pleasure he groped me with a little more force. My nipples stood out prominently. My pussy was, of course, already slick with readiness.

He plucked my stiffened nipples. I reached down and took his cock in my grasp. We both gasped as I did so. He felt so alive in my grip; I fancied I could feel his pulse. I ran my fingers up and down his shaft, thrilled by the texture of his skin and the intense hardness of him. I explored his balls, tenderly squeezing his nutsac. He let out a happy moan.

I was considering the idea of going down on him, when he said, “Let me taste you, Becky. Please.” There was such longing in his voice.

Well, what could I do? I shifted onto my back and spread my legs. He moved eagerly into position, his strong shoulders pushing my thighs even further apart. His eyes glittered as he lowered his mouth to my pussy.

I sucked air through my teeth as his tongue swiped along my slit. Pleasure bloomed within me, powerful but gentle, an unhurried building joy. He took his time, lavishing my outer lips before delving deeper.

As his tongue penetrated me, my hips rolled. He licked me more nimbly, spearing me deeper and deeper. My clit swelled, and he venerated my sensitive little bud as ecstasy rose more swiftly within me. My ass lifted off the bed as I started to hump his face.

When my climax hit me, I poured out my juices. Roger kept his mouth in place, swallowing everything I gave him. My orgasm was a hot, swirling bliss that overpowered me. I fell back limp after intense waves of pleasure wracked my body. A great tingling aftermath took hold of me as I reclined.

That was another moment of truth, I realized. Up to that point, I’d pretty much only been acted upon — I hadn’t yet really acted on Roger. My wifely faith to Richard was still intact, sort of.

But I was too far gone to turn back, and it would be damn rude to leave Roger hanging. Besides, I sincerely wanted to taste his cock.

With a fresh surge of excitement, I got him to reverse positions with me. He lay back, and I nestled myself between his legs. His thighs closed over my shoulders as his cock stood rampant before my face.

I put a hand softly on his balls and pointed his thick cockhead toward my mouth. With a shiver, I licked his knob. The smooth texture made perspiration stand out on my body. The milky drop of pre-come I lapped up and swallowed made me moan aloud.

My eyes rolled back into my skull as I wrapped my lips around him and began to suck my way down his shaft. The sensation was blissful. I had a stranger’s cock in my mouth! A guy who was turned on because I was married to someone else.

I sucked on him relentlessly flattening my cheeks to give him some firm suction. He groaned gratifyingly. My head bobbed up and down, the rhythm increasing while my tongue danced eagerly on him and his flavor filled my mouth.

I might have him taken him all the way and even let him shoot in my mouth. But it was Roger who gently pried me away. In response, I urgently climbed up onto his body, desperate to have his cock in my pussy. It was time to truly consummate this thing. I needed to fuck.

As I lowered myself onto his rod, intense pleasure flowed through me. I planted my knees and started to ride him. He groped my breasts before settling his hands on my hips. He helped to lift and drop me on him. His upward thrusts were forceful.

I raced toward my climax, outdistancing him. I came convulsively, writhing atop him. My head spun wonderfully, and everything was soft — everything except Roger’s cock.

He gentled me onto my back and loomed over me. He drove himself inside me, and I took him in, welcoming and wanting. Soon he was pounding me, his thrusts intense. Our bodies smacked together, and through the erotic mist, yet another brutal climax was thundering toward me.

I met his downward motions, thrusting up my hips. He drove deep, spearing me each time, until his orgasmic shudders arrived. His jizz spurted hotly, and I howled, as if the night’s full moon had indeed transformed me.