Mr. Sawyers was the first man that I cheated with. I wasn’t out looking for someone. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I had just confirmed that my husband was cheating on me and probably had been for three years. The private detective that I hired gave me a portfolio of pictures and phone recordings. Yeah, I had him do it right, if not legally.
I had copies of emails and texts. Photos of my husband and his lover in clubs and even hotel rooms. Explicit photos. Don’t ask me how my detective got them. I guess he was just that good. I certainly paid him enough. There were pictures of him with his dick in her mouth in the back seat of his car. Texts that left no doubt. Emails that would convict a mob boss.
It wasn’t always like that. The first two years of our marriage were great. Sex every night. No, I mean every night. We did it everywhere. In the car. On the city bus. I even gave him a handjob under the table at the Tupelo Honey Restaurant on Pentagon Row. They don’t even have tablecloths there. He came in my hand while the waiter was setting our platters on the table. The waiter, alarmed, asked if everything was okay. I answered, “Yeah, he has epilepsy. It’s just a minor seizure. He has them all the time.”
We laughed and fucked all night after that. So many nights like that in the beginning but it ended so abruptly. Late nights at work. Out-of-town conferences. He made the money so I never doubted his word. I gave him plenty of patience because he was tired after so many hours at work. I never even suspected that he was fucking around.
My suspicions started one Saturday morning when he got out of bed early after his phone beeped a text. I blinked my eyes open as he was reading it by the window, “Everything okay, honey?” I asked, seeing his smile and his thumbs typing out a response.
Cutting his eyes at me, his smile disappeared, replaced by a frown, “Yeah, no. I have to go to work.”
“On a Saturday?”
“Uhm, Yeah,” he stuttered, “New client.”
“All day?”
“Ah, not sure,” he answered dismissively, “Could be.”
He left in a hurry. No kiss. Later that evening, he came in, his tie undone and hanging outside his collar. His hair was messed up and his shirt was untucked. I watched him over top of the book I read on the sofa. He walked past, not even noticing me, and straight to the shower. Pushing the door open, I saw his clothes piled on the floor and his phone on the vanity.
The shower door was covered in condensation and the steam obscured my view. I took his phone and tried to open it. His passcode had been changed. Setting his phone back where I got it, I dropped my robe on the floor and joined him in the shower. At first, he didn’t notice, his back to me and his head under the stream. I slid my hand from his side to his chest.
“Fuck,” he said with a start, “You scared the shit out of me.”
I had my arms around him and my head rested on his shoulder, “I missed you today.”
“Yeah?” He asked as I let one hand slide to his cock, “Well I had to go to work.”
Normally, he would be instantly hard. I squeezed and stroked him under the steamy water. My breast was pressed to his back, my nipples erect and sliding on his skin. Cupping his balls with one hand and stroking him with the other, I felt something different. I was disappointed when he turned to get a towel. My hand slid over his pubic area and I could tell he was shaven. He had never done that before. Leaving me alone in the shower, he dried and left the room. I stood in disbelief. It wasn’t later than five o’clock. No way he could be that tired.
Walking into the bedroom, drying my hair, I asked, “When did you shave?”
“I shave every morning,” he answered, “You know that.”
“I meant your pubes, silly,” I smiled, “I like it.”
“Oh. I was just trying it out.”
“So when did you do it?” I pressed.
“At lunch today,” he answered, a little annoyed at my questioning, “I got a wax at the mall.”
“Oh. Did it hurt?”
“Like a son of a bitch,” he said, pulling his house pants on.
“You want me to do it too?”
“Up to you,” he said dismissively, turning to leave me standing in the bedroom alone.
Bewildered, I stood looking at the open door. Still hoping to get his attention, I grabbed a pair of my tiniest black panties and nothing else. Looking in the mirror, I tossed my damp hair into the mess that he always liked then followed him to the living room. He was on the couch texting when I sat beside him but he put the phone away quickly.
I turned to him, one knee on the couch and my other foot on the floor, legs spread and my finger tracing his shoulder, “Would you like it if I got my pussy waxed?”
“If you want to,” he answered, fooling with the television remote.
I turned toward the TV and covered myself with one of the couch pillows, my legs drawn up in a fetal position. Sitting in silence with a million things running through my mind. I wondered if he was mad at me about something. I tried to blame his preoccupation on a thousand different things but I knew. I didn’t admit it to myself but I knew.
For two and a half years I let it go on that way. I went from self-pity and frustration to anger and resentment. Why did he stay if he didn’t love me? Why didn’t he just divorce me and be done with it? I knew he went through three different lovers. I could tell when he was with a new one. The first one, he shaved his pubes. The second, a mustache. The third one he got his ears pierced.
I never pressed him about all his philandering. I just played it cool, as pissed as I was becoming. It took me a while to understand why he kept me around, stringing me along. I didn’t want to admit it. Hell, I was still in love with him. He was good to me at first. Good looking and he took care of himself. Always in shape and well groomed. And his cock. I’ll always miss that part of him. Long and thick, he knew how to use it.
But two and a half years without it or even a kiss in the morning or at night. It gets to you. I was still young. I still had needs of my own.
Still, that first time with Wilson Sawyers had its effect on me. My moods, although I kept them to myself, swung back and forth. Guilt flooded my mind yet I masturbated with the thought of him just minutes later. I cried and felt ashamed of what I had done but just minutes later I couldn’t hold back my smile at his memory. I needed a distraction. That’s what led me to Terry.
I didn’t have to join the gym. I was already a member. I just hadn’t gone since that New Year’s resolution that made me join. It was probably my worst desperation move but I did it. I thought it would be my last chance to save my marriage. ‘Get in shape,’ I thought, ‘That will get his attention.’
Four weeks in and I could see some improvement. I had lost eight pounds and my ass was firming up nicely. I was feeling good about myself. Alone at home, I spent too much time posing in the full-length mirror in my bathroom. The weight that I lost left my waist slim and my abs were beginning to cut through. Even my arms began to look like one of those fitness models.
My husband, unfortunately, did not seem to notice. I worked my ass off for him but to no good results. I was beginning to get angry. It had been weeks since that day with Mr. Sawyers and he hadn’t even noticed my car had been gone for the two weeks that it had been at the body shop. That’s when I decided to hire the detective. If for no other reason, I would have evidence when it came to divorce.
The gym was my new home. Even though my husband paid me no attention, I was getting stronger and stronger. I’m not just talking about physically. My anger drove me. It gave me a new perspective. With no conceit, I will say that I looked good. My body was gorgeous and I’ve always been pretty. To hell with him if he couldn’t see it. Other men could and did.
The mirrors at the gym weren’t just for admiring myself but I could see who else was admiring me as well. There was one man in particular at the gym. He seemed always to be there. Tall and muscular, with blond streaks of grey hair. Older than me but that seemed to be what I was becoming attracted to. He had a wide chest and broad shoulders that were rounded and cut. I found myself posing to get his attention.
Even when I was not at the gym, he would be in my thoughts. I would picture him, strong and cut, while I showered. My eyes closed as I leaned against the cool marble wall, the hot, steamy water pelting my body. In my fantasy, he pressed me to that shower wall, his hands exploring my body, touching places that my husband no longer would.
He filled my thoughts when I would lie in bed alone, the warm linen sheets tangled over me. I pretended that my hands were his when I touched myself. My head slowly rolled side to side when my fingers gently pinched at my erect nipples. A sigh would escape with my breath when I slowly pushed my hands between my thighs, caressing the skin when I spread my legs.
I pictured him mounting me, pushing his cock into my sex, filling me, and stretching me. I wondered if he would be long and thick like my husband. Would he be gentle or rough? Another sigh and a soft moan when my fingers slid over my pussy lips, pressing them together and massaging the wet folds of my sex, pretending that it was him.
I thought of his tongue when my finger circled my clitoris, wet and warm, his breath gently washing over my pussy.
My imagination was explicit, sending tremors up my spine when I thought of his five o’clock shadow between my legs, grating roughly on the skin of my thighs. I felt the firm musculature of his back with the soles of my feet, my legs draped over his broad shoulders. I felt his tongue (my fingers) push between the wet outer lips of my pussy, tasting my juices. His fingers caressed my hips and my sides, sliding up my body to squeeze my breasts. My nipples, so erect and acutely sensitive, tightened when he gently pinched them.
I don’t remember leaving the shower or drying my body. I don’t even remember walking to my bed but when I recovered from the throes of my self-induced orgasm I was lying atop the quilted comforter on the foot of my king-sized bed. My heart pounded and my breathing was deep. It was all so real and so hot. Real enough to me that I opened my eyes to see if he would still be with me.
Disappointed, even as my orgasm dissipated like a soft summer breeze, I was alone. Smiling to myself, I nursed on the tip of one finger, thinking of how hot my fantasy made me. I felt the damp evidence of my naughty dream between my legs, soaking into the comforter. I should get dressed and put the damn thing in the washer. ‘Fuck it,’ I thought out loud, stretching lazily on the soft bed.
Yeah, I eventually got up and dressed, taking the comforter to the washroom and replacing it with a fresh one. I had the rest of the day to do nothing. I was bored, knowing hubby was out doing his thing with whomever the hell he was seeing now. Yeah, I had been to the gym already and had taken a shower but what else was I going to do.
I could sit here and think about my husband, feeling sorry that his love for me had died. I could think of new ways to resurrect his love but three years’ worth of trying had not worked. I could kill the rest of the day thinking of the man at the gym. That would be fun but I really didn’t want to be alone. Fuck. I was dressed and in the car before I really decided to go.
When I pulled into the nearly deserted parking lot and walked to the door, gym bag in hand. It was after hours so I had to use my keycard to enter. A bit of confusion after the second swipe and the door wouldn’t open. I saw someone moving around so I tapped on the door. I recognized him when he was unlocking the door.
“Oh, hey,” he smiled, “You didn’t get the email I take it.”
“Email?”
“Yeah,” he answered, “I’m going to be closed tonight in order to install a few new machines.”
“Oh,” I said, a bit of disappointment in my voice, “I didn’t check emails this afternoon.”
“You going to use the treadmills?” He asked, “That’s what you normally do right?”
“I was hoping to.”
After looking around the parking lot, he told me to come on in and that he would be on the other side of the gym anyway. He walked me to the treadmills and turned on just one row of lights, “How’s that?” He asked with a friendly smile.
“Are you sure it’s okay? I mean. I’m not going to get you in trouble am I?”
“Trouble?” He laughed.
“You know. With the boss.”
Another laugh and then he reassured me, “Nah, I know him personally. It’s my gym. I am the only boss. Hell, I’m the chief bottle washer and potato peeler.”
“Oh,” I said, extending my hand and introducing myself, “I’m just making your day longer and your job harder then.”
“I have to admit,” he smiled again, “I knew your name. I’m Terry Bronson.”
“From membership records,” I nodded, “Good to meet you too.”
“You’ve been pretty dedicated for the last, what, a month now?”
“Yeah,” I answered, still shaking his hand, “I’m on a mission.”
“Well, if you don’t mind my saying, you are making some real gains.”
“Thank you,” I said, finally letting his hand go, “I’m glad someone has noticed.”
An awkward pause and he continued, “At the risk of sounding strange, I’ve been watching your progress. You’ve probably dropped, what, ten pounds?”
“Eight.”
He nodded, “Your tone has really improved too. What’s your goal?”
I thought better than to tell him that I was trying to attract the attention of my husband. An effort that I had all but abandoned, “I just want to be the best me that I can.”
“You are doing a great job,” he said, “If you want any help, you know, if you hit a wall or something. I’m always here.”
“I really appreciate that,” I answered, suddenly very aware of my wedding ring.
With Mr. Sawyers, it was an off-the-cuff, spur-of-the-moment thing. I wasn’t out looking for it. This time was different. I came to the gym hoping that he, Terry, would be here. Now that we were alone, I was having trepidations. Another awkward moment of obvious attraction, we stood looking at each other.
“You better get to work on your equipment,” I suggested, smiling inside at the innuendo, “I’ll be right here if you need any help.”
“I may have to take you up on that,” Terry said, catching the aspersion of my quip.
I dropped my gym bag next to a bench and climbed onto the treadmill. Terry turned with a big grin and walked through the dark gym to his work. I watched him fade into the distance, his strong silhouette passing under dimly lit fixtures, revealing the muscularity of his shoulders and legs. I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his left calf. From a distance, it resembled an anchor with a rope coiled around it. I wondered if it held meaning to him or if it was just a tough guy thing. Either way, it was sexy.
Shaking him from my head, I started my second workout of the day. Encouraged by Terry’s observations and comments, I set the treadmill on a steeper angle and a faster pace than usual. About fifteen minutes into my run, I pulled my top over my head and dropped it on my gym bag, running without pause. It wasn’t at all unusual for women to be in a sports bra during workouts here so it was all good. I watched myself in the mirror and saw that my breasts, nearly flat, didn’t have much bounce. My nipples, on the other hand, were erect and very obvious.
Terry walked by, passing behind me, on his way to retrieve some tool or other, “Push hard.”
I gave a thumbs up, wiping the sweat from my forehead. I caught him looking at me as he walked past, checking out whatever part of my body. He knew that he was busted when he looked at my eyes in the mirror. I gave him a smile that told him that I didn’t take offense. Hell, I was doing the same thing to him just a few minutes ago.
My body perspired and my clothes were getting soaked. I would need a shower after this for sure. After the indicator told me that I had run six miles, I backed off the speed and incline, slowing the belt for a cool-down jog. That is when the sweat really started to drip. Five more minutes then I stepped off the machine.
Terry was still banging away at his weight machine assembly so I thought I would walk over to see his progress. I stood behind him for several minutes admiring his strength and skill. It looked as though he would shortly finish when he noticed me.
“Oh, hey,” he said, “Do you need something.”
The answer in my head did not match the answer that I gave him, “No, I was just watching a master at work. I guess I’m going to go. I need to shower soon.”
“You’re welcome to use the showers here,” he said, “You paid for a membership and that’s included.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” I admitted, “I don’t usually use the showers here but there isn’t anyone else in there.”
“You too modest?” He smiled.
I shook my head with a smile of my own, “I’d say more self-conscious. I am funny that way.”
“Well, you look great,” he said, “Probably better than most women here. You work harder than most of the guys.”
“So you’ve been watching me.”
“Is that too weird?”
I shook my head again with a laugh, “No. Im flattered.”
He shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head, “If I were twenty years younger, you would have to fight me off.”
“I appreciate the compliment,” I said, “But to be honest, you look as good as any man here. I just hope that twenty years from now I can look as good.”
“Eat right, stay active,” he advised, “Never let anyone tell you that you’re not beautiful.”
“Good advice,” I nodded, “Does that also come with the membership.”
“Hell no,” he laughed, “You owe me extra for that.”
“Damn,” I laughed, “I’m broke. We will have to work something out.”
“Married?” He asked, nodding at my ring hand.
I took a long look at my wedding band, fiddling it around with my thumb before answering, “Kinda.”
With a sideways look, he asked, “Kinda?”
I shrugged, “It’s complicated.”
“He’s fucking around and you are feeling neglected.”
It was like a punch in the stomach, “I guess when you say it out loud,” I paused for a deep breath, almost sobbing, “It isn’t all that complicated.”
Terry put his tool down and stood offering a hug as my body seemed to wilt and tears started to streak my face. His arms wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me close, embracing me and telling me to let it out. I rested my head on his strong chest, feeling the warmth of his hug and the strength of his arms. As I said, Mr. Sawyers was a spur-of-the-moment thing. A quick fuck just to feel something. I needed it so I took it when the opportunity presented.
Terry was different. Yeah, I came here hoping to see him and let him see me while I worked out. But now, being in his arms, feeling the comfort of his embrace, I wanted it to last. I wanted all night. Shaking my head, I pushed him gently away, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“No, it’s alright,” he said, offering a towel from a stack on the wall, “Look, go get a shower. I’m finished. We can grab a cup of coffee before you go home. Give you a chance to collect yourself.”
“I don’t want to impose,” I said, wiping my tear-stained face, “Besides, your wife…”
He held up his left hand to show me that there was no ring.
“You’re not….”
“Not even kinda.”
We shared a laugh and I picked up my bag. He pointed the way to the showers and started gathering his tools. “I’ll hurry,” I said, turning to walk backward.
“Take your time,” he waved, “I’m going to get one as well.”
I turned around and walked through the dimly lit room to the locker room where I stripped my sweaty bra and yoga shorts. Ever since that day with Mr. Sawyers, I hadn’t worn panties. I did carry a pair with my extra clothes just in case.
Naked, I took my shampoo and body wash from the gym bag along with a shower sponge. The huge shower was well-lit and abandoned so I took the nearest stall and let the hot water run.
The steam soothed my respiratory system and the water relaxed my tightened muscles. I stood under the heated flow, my forearms braced against the tiled wall. Enjoying the relaxing heat, I watched the clear waterfall in two streams from my relaxed nipples.
I felt the tension draining from my body. Feeling better than I had in literally years, my depression and anger were being replaced with a new desire. My husband and his fucking girlfriends weren’t on my mind. I wanted to feel something again, something like I felt with Mr. Sawyers. There was an opportunity for me here just a few steps away.
I heard his footsteps, thinking that he was going to the men’s showers. Startled when he called out from the locker room, “You okay in there?” My head snapped up and I looked to the entrance of the showers.
“Uh, yeah,” I answered, “Just enjoying the hot water.”
“Okay, I didn’t hear anything and you’ve been in there a while.”
Turning the water off, I called, “I’m good. Thank you for checking.”
“No problem,” he shouted, “You have everything you need? Sometimes the ladies use all the towels.”’
‘Damn,’ I thought. The one thing that I didn’t pack in my gym bag and there were none on the rack, “Hell no, do you have an extra in the men’s locker?”
“You bet,” he answered, “Give me a minute.”
“Bring several,” I yelled from behind the shower entrance.
I leaned, naked and wet, water dripping from my hair and elbows, on the shower entrance. Watching the door close itself slowly at the entrance to the locker room, I wondered why I was hiding. My body and mind craved him. The same desires that overtook me the day of the accident with Mr. Sawyers were creeping into my soul again. I wanted something that my husband wasn’t giving me. I heard his hand slap the heavy wooden door and push it open.
I watched from the opening as he walked to the rack near my bag, placing the towels in their holder. His attention on his work, I moved into the opening, leaning against the frame, “Thank you,” I said, waiting for him to notice me.
“No problem,” he answered over his shoulder, turning in my direction, “I’m here to help.”
His eyes widened and he choked the lump from his throat. We both stood silently, my smile was eventually answered with one of his own. My body, still dripping wet, held his attention. I didn’t exactly match my husband by removing all my pubic hair. Terry seemed to approve of the narrow strip of trimmed brown hair just above my pussy.
“Uhm,” Terry began.
“You want me to wash your back?” I smiled.
“Absolutely,” he answered quietly, “Back, front, whatever.”
Dropping the towel on the bench, I pulled his teeshirt over his head. Even more impressive naked was his chest and abdomen. The muscles of his arms were cut and defined just like his upper body. Another tattoo on his shoulder was laid bare when I dropped his shirt. Two cannons, like those of a battleship, exploding with power below a script in bold letters, US NAVY.
“Were you a SEAL?” I whispered, walking around behind him, untying his gym pants.
“I wanted to be,” he joked, “But I just couldn’t keep that ball up on my nose.”
Laying my head on the back of his thick shoulder, I wrapped my arms around his waist and pushed my fingers under his pants, and found his cock. Still soft but beginning to firm up, he was thick and long, bigger than my husband. One hand, fingers wrapped around his hardening cock, the other sliding further, cupping his ball sack. They felt big and hung low. I could tell he was shaven.
His sweaty musk filled my senses as I cuddled him from behind. His body was hard and strong, cut by his hard workouts and discipline. He stood a foot taller than me and weighed twice myself. I pushed his pants down with his boxer briefs. His cock stood out from his body with a gentle downward curve. My hand slowly stroked up and down his silky, veined shaft, pulling his foreskin back. I could feel him throbbing in my palm.
He just stood still, pants at his knees, letting me explore. My right hand stroked his thick shaft and my left slid up his abdomen, tracing the roadmap of his muscles, finding his chest, skirting his erect nipples. My eyes were closed and I read him as if he were a Braille novel, trying to find the hero of the story. My body was goose-bumped, anticipating what he could and hopefully would do to me.
Completely erect now, my hand could hardly enclose his thick shaft. My fingertips did not find one another while I stroked, feeling his heat. He moaned my name quietly, evoking a deeper lust in me. I wanted him. Every inch of him. He finally turned to face me, letting his pants fall to his ankles. His cock, hard and demanding, pressed into my tummy when he wrapped me in his arms, pulling my diminutive body to his.
My hands pushed around his back, feeling his warmth and finding his tight ass. I cupped his firm cheeks and squeezed, delighting in his supple tone, “Let’s get you washed up,” I whispered, taking his hand to lead him to the shower. The hot water was welcomed on my goose-bumped body.
Terry, his dick jutting from his body, stood under the steaming flow, his body glistening with water. I was just now noticing his dark tan as the suds of his shampoo trailed from his short hair and over his shoulders. The silliness of my imagination pictured him in a Superman and even a Batman costume. In my mind, he wore them well.
Covering my sponge with his body wash, I gently scrubbed his shoulders and his back. The white bubbles ran in trails down the valleys between his muscles, winding downward to trail down his legs and onto the floor. After a few minutes, there was no inch of his strong body that I had not cleansed. The aroma of his body wash filled the room and ignited my lust again. My pussy ached to be filled.
Terry turned the water off and took my hand, leading me to the locker room to dry, “So,” he whispered, turning to face me by the bench, “Are you married?”
“I told you earlier.”
“You said, ‘Kinda.”
I guess he wanted me to think the situation through. To make sure that this was what I wanted or needed or however the fuck you wanted to say it. I dropped my face and looked at my feet, the water dripping slowly from my hair. His cock hung soft and heavy between his legs. I watched a bead of water trail down the purple vein that bulged along the length of his shaft.
My mind was quiet and calm. I was not conflicted. I knew what my husband was doing. I knew he didn’t care about me or what I needed. I realized that Terry was holding my hands in his. With a quiet smile, I watched that bead of water clinging desperately to the tip of his uncircumcised cock. Finally, it gave up and fell, splashing on the big toe of my right foot.
Cocking my head to one side, I moved my other foot, covering the remnants of that little drop of water with my right toe. A slow, deep breath, I looked up sideways at him, “I’m not married tonight.”
He pulled me close, our lips finding themselves in a sweet kiss, tongues pushing against each other, devouring the lust that simmered in two lonely mouths. I felt his big hands, calloused from years of hard work and heavy lifting, slide down the small of my back and over my ass. Cupping my cheeks, Terry lifted me from the floor and our kiss grew more passionate.
My hands played in his short, wet hair, holding his head near mine, Where do you want to do this?” I hissed.
“Upstairs,” he answered, “I have an apartment.”
“Do you want to show me?”
“I want to fuck you,” he answered through our kiss.
I was beginning to tingle all over. I felt desirable again. It had been weeks since I had given myself to Mr. Sawyers. Even that was different than tonight. That was a spur-of-the-moment thing. No real kissing or foreplay. We just fucked as quickly as we could behind a dumpster in a dirty alley. I don’t know that what we were about to do would be considered making love but as Merle Haggard put it, “It Ain’t love, But it ain’t bad.”
Terry seemed to know what I needed and how I wanted it. He threw my body over his shoulder like a caveman and walked to the metal steps that led to his apartment. I was gushing with excitement at the thought of his strength and his ruggedness. He was my Tarzan and I his Jane. This gym was our private jungle and he was taking me to his home in the trees.
“Dammit,” he said, exasperated, “I left my keys in the locker room. I’ll be right back.”
He gently put me down on the landing atop the stairs and quickly trotted down. There I waited, and watched his tight ass jog, my body goose-bumped from the air conditioning and the water that beaded my skin.
He was quick, running back, naked, up the stairs, his cock swinging back and forth. He was big even when he was soft. I forgot the cool air and goosebumps with every leaping step he made. At the landing, he stopped and kissed me again, keys in hand. His strong arm around my naked waist pulled me close. I took his keys and opened the door, leading him into his apartment. The aroma of leather dominated my senses. What looked to be a brand-new sofa and matching recliner, the source of the masculine bouquet, sat in front of a huge television screen. This was a man’s room, as small as it was.
The living room and kitchen shared a space that was no bigger than my kitchen at home. A large one-way window overlooked the gym below. Two doors behind the sofa led, I assumed, to his bedroom and a bathroom.
“Am I the first woman to see this place?”
“No.”
“Will I be the first woman you’ve fucked here?”
He gave me a guilty smile, “No.”
“At least tell me I’m the prettiest.”
“That I can do,” he smiled, pulling me close for another kiss, “And the hottest.”
I found his hands, one on my ass and the other pulling my knee to his hip. His cock, beginning to firm up again, pressed against my pussy, grinding on my overly sensitized clitoris. My body trembled with every slight motion. This was going to be a great fuck. His thick shaft was hard now, each vein slipping over my button, bringing me ever closer to orgasm.
Terry moved his hips ever so deliberately and slowly, grinding his cock under my wet slit. He held me tightly, sucking my tongue into his mouth. I was his and would be happy to die in his arms tonight after he fucked me of course. I was suddenly aware of music softly playing. The smoky rhythm of a familiar song. I recognized the singer as one of my favorite blues artists, Ana Popovic.
The music flowed like warm brandy through the room, taking me deeper in lust for my strong man, “Fuck me,” I whispered in his ear, his five o’clock shadow grating my cheek.
“Don’t worry, beautiful,” he growled, “I’m going to fuck you all night. But first, I’m hungry.”
“Hungry?” I asked in a bit of shock.
“Yeah,” he chuckled, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me to his bedroom, “I need to eat.”
Without closing the door, he gently placed me on the bed and pushed my knees wide. His eyes looked into mine even as he laid my sex bare before him, slowly sinking lower between my legs. Just inches from my pussy, he inhaled deeply, savoring my scent of lust. Only then did his eyes leave mine, just one slow blink to wrap all his senses around the aroma of my sex.
Eyes open again and looking directly into mine, he dredged his tongue through the furrow of my pussy, tasting me for the first time. Hypnotized by his blue-grey eyes, I didn’t feel his burrowing tongue until it gently circled my buzzing clitoris, sending waves of pleasure through my entire body. My wedding ring forgotten, I put my hand on the top of his head, gently playing in his short hair. I felt his finger sliding up and down my slit, his tongue lapping my love bud. I felt so alive. My heart pounded and my breaths were slow and deep. No one had don’t this to me in three fucking years. I didn’t want it to end.
I moaned when he pushed his finger in, his lips suckling my clit while his tongue danced on it. I watched his head turn slightly side-to-side, sliding his lips wryly over my sensitive little nub. I was in ecstasy, savoring every second and every feeling. I knew he was as well because I could see his hips pushing back and forth, dry humping his sheets slowly.
While his hands squeezed my hips, his thumbs parted my ass cheeks, delving further south. Terry shocked me when he licked me there, pressing the tip of his pointed tongue forcefully into my ass. My husband never did that. It was a new experience and I liked it. Back and forth he went from my clit to my ass, driving me into an orgasmic frenzy.
In the throes of a very intense orgasm, I felt his hands sliding up the sides of my body, cupping my breasts while his tongue continued to whip my pussy into a frothing mess. My hands squeezed his while he kneaded my breasts. In my moans and gasps, I begged in broken syllables, “Fuck me, Terry. Please fuck me.”
His cold blue eyes still locked on mine, I watched him dredge his tongue through my push again then kiss my thighs several times, “You sure you aren’t married?” He asked, his fingers pulling at my wedding ring.
Pulling my hand from his with a smile, I slid my ring from my finger and tossed it over him to the floor. With a flashing smile, I held my hand up, showing him an empty ring finger, and said, “Fuck me you teasing bastard.”
His crooked grin made me want him even more when he kissed my pussy and then every inch of my abdomen as he slowly crawled up my body. Terry spent extra time at my belly button when he found it to be a ticklish spot, making me squirm and giggle. Laughing, I pushed at his head trying to get him to stop. He only pushed his tongue deeper and swirled it quicker. I couldn’t stop laughing and struggling to push him away but he was too strong. His teasing stare only made it harder to be mad at him. Finally, though, he moved up, kissing again at the divide between my abs, pausing again to spend some time at my breasts. My nipples were so erect and sensitive that I nearly came when he kissed them. My moans and gasps seemed to direct him to the things that felt best. Further up now, he nibbled and kissed my neck. I could feel the root of his thick cock pressing at my mound.
Squirming under his weight, I wanted to feel him slide into me. I needed to feel him filling me. Pushing my hips upward, pressing my wetness against his rock-hard shaft, I could feel him throbbing against my over-sensitive clitoris. I started to grind against his thick cock, my wet pussy lubricating him. He was patient, almost frustratingly slow, denying me the pleasure that I wanted so badly. He knew that he was driving me crazy in lust. My pussy quivered, yearning to be filled.
Terry finally pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, his cock, long and hard, pointed at my body from just inches above, dripping his pre cum and my juices, ready to impale my kitty. All I could do was watch when he took that big cock in hand, squeezing it as he stroked causing the head to swell. I thought that it may be too much. He rubbed that big knob up and down my drooling opening, teasing me again, refusing to push it in.
“Please,” I begged, “Stop playing with me.”
“You want me to put it inside?”
“Please.”
Up and down, pushing just a bit, he slipped that cock head over my slit. Again I raised my hips, trying to get him inside. Pushing forward, he pressed the wide head of his dick between my lips, spreading them open. I tried to relax and let him in but he was big, “Let me know if it hurts,” he said.
I bit my lip with wide eyes and shook my head, “No,” I answered, “I want it all. I want you to fuck me. I don’t care if it hurts.”
Ever so slowly, Terry worked back and forth, pushing in slightly further. My pussy, stretched to what seemed an impossible limit, yielded. I held my breath when his head penetrated the first inches of my pussy, filling me beyond anything I had experienced. My husband, for what it was worth, had a nice cock, but this was much more than nice.
Slowly he pulled his manhood out and pushed back in, just another inch. He was only partially in and I felt so filled. I moaned, eyes closed and grasping for the sheets with both hands. I felt his lips sucking and nibbling at my neck and ear lobes. I felt his rough whiskers on my skin. He was a man and I was his at that moment. His cock stretched me with every gentle thrust, going deeper and deeper.
I don’t know how long it took. How long he gently bore into my sex with his. I lost every trace of reality and time, reveling in the sensations of desire. Yes, Mr. Sawyers filled a need so many weeks ago but this was so much more. I used him that day in that dank alley but I was giving myself, body and soul to this big, strong beast of a man. He pushed in deep again and I felt the heaviness of his huge balls rest on the cheeks of my ass, soaking in the juices of my lust.
“Fuck me, Terry,” I breathed into his ear, “Fuck me hard. Take me.”
Pulling my hair, he caused my neck to crane, my chin pointing at the ceiling. I felt his kiss on my exposed neck, felt him sucking hard on my skin, marking me as his own. I didn’t resist. There was no one that I would answer to or have to explain his mark of passion to. Fuck my husband. Fuck him for abandoning my needs. I wished him dead.
Terry whispered into my ear as he began to withdraw, taking his cock out and thrusting in again. His words rang in my head. He told me how beautiful I was and how much he had wanted me from the minute he saw me so many weeks ago. His thrusts grew faster and harder, his hand squeezing my small breast and pinching my nipple.
“Oh,” I whimpered, squirming in an orgasm that was growing from my depths, “Harder. Fucking harder.”
He did as I demanded, fucking me with fervor, giving me what I needed. I heard the slapping of his body on mine and the thud of his weighty balls when they slapped my asshole. My second orgasm, or was it my third? It seemed that I was in continuous climax. My heart pounded in my chest like his cock did in my pussy. My breath was as if I had run a marathon.
“I’m going to come,” Terry growled, “Fuck, I’m going to cum.”
“Yes,” I gasped, “Fill me with your cum. I want to feel it inside me.”
Terry pumped his cock, a very determined look on his handsome face, trying to hold back as long as possible. My orgasm never faded but simply slipped into the background of my lustful consciousness. I had never in my life been fucked like this. I had never had a man like this. Big and strong, he was so sexy and handsome, his cock was wonderfully large and perfect.
He knew my orgasm was beginning to strengthen again because I was so vocal. I cursed and swore, talking dirty and telling him to fuck me and fill me. My body spasmed again with a bolt of orgasm that was as powerful as a lightning strike and that’s when it happened. I felt his cock swell inside me and begin to pulsate.
“Oh fuck,” he grunted, “Yes, I’m coming.”
His cock filled me with molten liquid, splashing into my womb and gushing out around his shaft. His body tensed and his muscles tightened, I could feel his heart beating in his shaft that remained inside my pussy, still pumping his seed like a volcano erupting. The lights dimmed in my head and I could hear his voice, cursing and celebrating, “Yes.”
I felt his cum leaking from my sex, still impaled by my lover, running thickly down my ass. He continued to fuck me, driving me through the apex of my latest orgasm. Our bodies heaving for oxygen, exhausted from the workout and an awesome fuck, perspired.
Terry rolled onto his back, pulling me atop him, holding me close, and kissing me with the same passion as from the beginning. His cock, softening but still inside, throbbed with his pounding heart. I felt him begin to slide Welty from my opening, falling softly onto his belly.
“Since you aren’t married,” he whispered, “You don’t have to be anywhere do ya?”
I didn’t answer but just smiled at him. My mind wandered through the last three years. All the nights alone and all the lies. Everything I tried to get attention from the man who vowed, ‘Till death do us part.’ My fingers played in Terry’s sweaty hair, my eyes looking into his. I saw something in them that was lost in my husband’s, “I’m not going anywhere. You said you would fuck me all night.”
“Your husband is a fool,” he said, looking into my eyes, “We need to do something about him.”
“I want him to go away forever,” I said, still buzzing from my orgasm, “Hell, I want to see him dead.”
“Maybe, we can arrange that,” Terry smiled.
“You serious?” I asked, propping up on my elbow.
“Hon, I’m dead serious.”
