This story initially felt like a fantasy, as do so many of the tales I am sent by male readers, but as I chatted with ‘Mike’ more and more, online and by then phone, I started to believe it was real and to enjoy it considerably.
There are so many aspects of his narrative that ring true. Mike himself comes over as honest and open, if a less faithful husband than most wives would want. But then I am in no position to pass judgement on other people’s fidelity.
In the end, and by way of final proof, he showed me photographs of the two couples involved, separately and in normal social surroundings. Then he showed me – very securely – a picture of the two main protagonists in a situation which can only be described as extremely compromising.
It was taken without the knowledge of the other party and is apparently one of only a handful of pieces of incriminating evidence in existence. They have been very careful.
The story is Mike’s, the words are mine. All the names have been changed but the events are exactly as he told me they happened.
I hope you enjoy it.
***
Libby is the prettiest of my wife’s many friends. A little taller than most, with a curvy figure, a sweet, pretty face, green eyes and shoulder-length hair of a colour that depending on the light, varies between pale red and blonde, there is a soft femininity about her that appeals to the old-school gentleman in a man’s soul.
I defy anyone, male or female, not to find both her and her rather shy personality very attractive.
What makes her appeal even stronger it that, alongside this sweetness lies a distinct but low-key sexiness; an aura of fertility that is entirely unintentional, but no less powerful for that; an unspoken promise of warm, deeply satisfying physical pleasure for the rare few lucky enough to experience it.
It is a promise on which she delivers in abundance. I know this better than most because, with her husband’s full knowledge and grudging approval, for the last three years, I have been Libby’s lover.
My wife Jane and I first met Libby and her long-time partner James over twenty years ago. It was at a fourth of July party organised by American friends we met through the junior school that our two children attended.
As friends of friends, we got on well in an undemanding, casual way and over the coming years, got to know each other better by being at many of the social events that punctuate life when your kids are growing up.
Despite having lived together for many years and having two school-age children, Libby and James are not married. I knew through my wife that Libby was not happy about this; coming from rural farming stock, marriage was expected and she pointedly uses her maiden name at all times as if to make it clear that any lack of commitment on was on her partner’s side, not her own.
Just why James refuses to take this last step into matrimony remains unclear. Maverick by nature and background, he is still good looking and can charm most of our circle of friends, male or female.
James played in a band in his past – still does in fact – and is rumoured to have been pretty wild in his youth until brought up short by the discovery of a genetic heart defect. Indeed, there were rumours that he still had a long-standing relationship with another woman somewhere nearby but despite all that has happened, I have never been close enough to him to find out the truth.
Jane and I used to meet each other at parties and events organised by mutual friends rather than being close friends with them ourselves. We got on well though when we did meet, and for me, it was always a delight to have Libby to myself for chat, however brief.
Now let me say right now that before my arrangement with Libby, I had been faithful to my wife Jane throughout our marriage. I am a fairly good-looking guy and have always found women easy to get on with, so over the years more than one opportunity to stray had come my way, but I had never taken up any of them.
Jane is a lovely person to live with. She is mid-height, has a fuller figure than she would like and a heart-warmingly pretty face, but the truth is that she has never really enjoyed sex and has tried to avoid it most of our marriage.
Apart from in the first years of our relationship, she has never been adventurous in bed and has always expected me to do the work. As our kids arrived, her interest waned further and when she became menopausal, her libido collapsed, and our couplings grew rarer and rarer until the last ten years where an entire year of sexual encounters could be counted on the fingers of one hand. And even those copulations had become very perfunctory, with no real participation on her part.
Of necessity, my own libido had moderated a little over the years but as with most married couples, there was still a significant mismatch. I don’t offer this as an excuse for what happened. Still, until the events of this story, I had no intention of finding another sexual outlet – other than those that can be enjoyed in private and online.
These I still quietly enjoy, as my telling this story to Jenny makes obvious.
I suppose for me, the story begins with a dinner party at James and Libby’s house.
It was Saturday night and we were two of six guests. Although Jane had visited Libby’s house many times, it was my first visit, so we were both pleased and surprised to be invited. The evening passed well; to my delight, I was placed between Libby and Cathy, a tall, slender friend of my wife’s from the same social circle to which Jane and I were peripheral. Jane herself was placed between our host James and Cathy’s husband.
I was pleased they would keep her entertained well throughout the evening.
The food was excellent; Libby is known to be a good cook and was so well organised that she was only occasionally absent from my side. For me, this wasn’t an issue, I enjoyed talking to both my companions but of course made the most of our hostess while she was present.
I have to say that I enjoyed the evening enormously. Both Cathy and Libby were bright, interesting people as well as being attractive, though I have to admit I did address the majority of my attention to the fuller, prettier golden-haired figure on my right.
Every so often, I would look across to make sure Jane wasn’t being neglected or bored by the two men either side of her, but she looked happy and in her element all evening.
As we left, we shook hands or kissed our hosts goodnight as usual. Libby offered her cheek in a perfectly normal way, but as he took my hand in his, her husband leaned in slightly and said under his breath.
“Can I call you next week? I have an idea you might be interested in.”
“Of course,” I replied. “I’m free Monday and Tuesday afternoon if either of those suits you?”
I thought there was a strange, almost pained expression on his face. Libby must have thought so too because she was watching him intently as he spoke to me.
***
The rest of the weekend passed as normal doing household and family things. By Monday lunchtime, I had all but forgotten James’ parting words, so it was a surprise when just before three o’clock, my phone rang with a number I did not recognise.
“Hello! Mike here,” I answered.
“Mike! It’s James. Are you free to talk?”
“James? Oh, James!” I replied, quickly recalling his words. “How are you? How’s Libby? We had a lovely time on Saturday. Thank you so much.”
“It was our pleasure. I mean it. It was great to have you two around. And especially nice to have you for the first time.”
We chatted for few minutes about inconsequential stuff then James directed the conversation towards the main reason for his call. I could tell by the changing tone of his voice that he had moved into a more serious mode.
“You remember I said I had a proposition to talk to you about?”
“Yes,” I replied. “An idea you said. A business idea I assume?”
As an investor, it wasn’t unusual for friends to ask my advice on opportunities they were presented with. I never invested in friends’ businesses – that way lies mutual unhappiness – but I was always willing to offer my own perspective.
“Actually, no,” James said. “Not business at all. It’s more… personal.”
I settled back in my office chair.
“Tell me…”
There was a pause as if my friend was trying to think how to start.
“It’s quite an unusual idea,” he eventually began. “And I hope I can trust you to keep it private.”
“Of course,” I replied, intrigued.
“It’s not an easy thing to talk about,” he began slowly and hesitatingly as if about to convey some embarrassing news. “But you know about my heart issues, don’t you?” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “Everyone knows about them; I’ve talked about it enough.”
I did of course and said so with the appropriate level of concern and sympathy.
“Well, I’ve been on some heavy-duty medication for years and I’ve just been told I will probably be on it for the rest of my life.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied, genuinely concerned.
“That’s okay,” he grinned. “The meds are working and I’m still alive and kicking. The problem is that these drugs come with some equally heavy-duty side effects.”
He was speaking slowly and meaningfully as if leading up to something big.
“One of those side effects is that I suffer badly from… erectile dysfunction.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” I frowned, wondering why he was telling me this most intimate fact.
“The truth is, that I haven’t been able to get it up at all for over three years. It’s likely that I will be on these meds for life and never will get it up again. Libby and I haven’t had a proper sex life ever since and it’s started to affect our marriage.”
“I… I don’t know what to say,” I told him both truthfully and inadequately.
“You don’t need to say anything. Just hear me out. This isn’t easy for me.”
I could well imagine but still wondered why he wanted me to know now.
“She’d hate it if she knew I was telling you this, but Libby has a very high libido.”
I laughed.
“Can Jane come and stay with her for a bit? Some of it might rub off.”
He laughed too, but hollowly.
“It’s not as big a bonus as you might think,” he told me. “If a woman needs sex and her man cannot even penetrate let alone satisfy her, then their marriage is under threat. And Libby has been far from satisfied for years now.”
I raised an eyebrow in silent question. There was a long pause.
“She and I have talked it over many times,” he continued. “She assures me it doesn’t matter, but we both know it matters a lot. We’ve tried every kind of assistance we can find; every kind of medication, every kind of device but nothing has worked. Either the erection meds conflict with my heart meds or they just don’t work at all. The devices get us partway but they’re no substitute for the real thing.”
He paused as if telling me all this had been traumatic for him, which no doubt it had. It can’t be easy for a husband to tell any other man that he was incapable of making love with his wife, but why he felt to need to tell me was still a mystery.
“With Libby’s libido always unsatisfied and me feeling inadequate, the tension between us has become unbearable; we’re both permanently frustrated, and it’s led to some pretty big rows. Okay, they are usually sparked by something trivial, but we both know what the real cause is.”
“I’m so sorry, James,” I commiserated.
I wasn’t sure how my own marriage would survive a complete and permanent absence of sex. Jane would probably love it, but how would I cope?
But he hadn’t finished.
“Anyway, once we learned that an operation was not possible and that I would be on strong medication permanently, we decided that the strain on us was too much. It wasn’t fair for Libby to be forced into celibacy for the rest of her life because of my condition. It was putting our relationship at serious risk.”
I could well imagine but was still unsure where this was going.
“We talked it through more times than I can count and explored all kinds of alternatives before coming to a conclusion.”
I half expected him to tell me that they were going to separate, but apparently, that wasn’t his plan.
“You and I have known each other a long time,” he continued as if changing the subject.
This was true; we hadn’t known each other well, but we had certainly been casual friends for at least two decades.
“I’ve always liked you and I think you like me too, so I’m asking if I can trust you to keep what I’m about to tell you completely confidential?”
“Of course, you can,” I replied, surprised.
He took another deep breath before delivering the astonishing news.
“We’ve decided that for the sake of our marriage, Libby needs to have a real male sexual outlet. She needs to have someone in her life who can give her the physical aspects of marriage that I can’t provide any longer.”
I was stunned; was my friend really telling me that he had agreed his wife should have sex with someone else?
“That’s right,” he confirmed in a wavering voice. “I know it sounds strange, but we’ve decided that Libby should have a lover.”
I must have looked astounded because he followed on immediately.
“A lover, Mike. A friend with benefits; a fuck-buddy.”
“Jesus, James…”
“We talked about using escorts,” he continued. “We even tried it once, but Libby didn’t enjoy having sex with a stranger even if it was good physically. And paying for it made her feel dirty afterwards.”
My mouth fell open at this news. Our friends had paid for sex? But James still hadn’t finished.
“Libby’s an old-fashioned girl; in her book, sex and affection are two sides of the same coin. If it’s going to work for her, she needs to do it with someone she knows and cares about; someone she can connect with; someone she finds attractive and who she knows feels the same about her. Above all, she needs someone that we both know and both trust.”
There was a long pause.
“We would like that person to be you.”
You could have knocked me down with a feather.
“You mean you want me to…”
“We want you to become Libby’s regular, and completely discreet lover, Mike.”
“I… um… I don’t know what to say…”
“I know it sounds weird, but I mean it. We mean it. To be completely unambiguous, we want you to come here every time Libby needs you and have sex with her. Can I put it any clearer than that?”
He couldn’t, and despite the shock, I finally understood what was being asked, although I still did not believe it.
“But what about Jane?” I asked. “I’m married and…”
“Jane needn’t ever know,” James replied earnestly. “It’s not as if Libby and I want to make our problem public knowledge, is it? We can both keep secrets – we’ve kept my problem secret enough for years, haven’t we?”
That was indeed true. I thought for a moment.
“Why me? I mean I’m hugely flattered – and astonished – but I don’t see why you want it to be me.”
James paused before replying.
“To be honest, it wasn’t that difficult a decision. Not compared with the decision that she should have a lover in the first place. Libby needs to find the man attractive but also to get on well with him. You scored on both those fronts. Libby has always sort of fancied you and we’ve always known that you have a bit of a thing for her, so that ticked most of the boxes.”
Had it really been that obvious that I fancied Libby? For a moment I wondered who else had noticed, but James was carrying on.
“It couldn’t be a close friend; not someone we saw often. It would be far too awkward for all of us if we were always at the same social events. There’s going to be a sexual frisson between you; sooner or later someone would notice. You know what the girls are like.”
I certainly did. At least two of my wife’s close friends thrived on scandal, real or imagined.
“You scored there as well; we know you two and like you both, but we’re not always in each other’s houses.”
“Libby and Jane are in the same Book Club,” I pointed out, concerned.
“That’s true, but neither you nor I go there. It’s not as if you and Libby would be bumping into each other all the time and having to pretend nothing was going on.”
It made logical sense, if you ignored the outrageousness of the whole idea.
“You asked us round for dinner,” I said, still trying to cope with the magnitude of my friend’s proposal.
“That was the final test,” he grinned. “Last weekend’s meal was the final check to make sure she was happy. The two of you got on well, she flirted, you flirted back. There was a genuine spark between you, and she was happy. We agreed I should call you this week and, well, ask you to help us.”
There was another pause before he spoke again.
“So, Mike, are you prepared to come here and regularly fuck my wife?”
***
Unsurprisingly, the question dominated my thoughts for the next few days. The whole idea was wrong on so many fronts; apart from being asked to make my friend a cuckold, James was also asking me to cheat on my own wife for the first time since our marriage.
Oblivious to the many thoughts running around my brain, Jane went on with life as usual, which meant without sex of any kind. I had all but given up on trying recently, but in an attempt to placate my conscience, I made a series of attempts at initiating intimacy from the subtle hint to the full-on demand. All were rebuffed politely but firmly.
My wife’s vagina was to remain off-limits to me for the foreseeable future.
After a week of failure after failure, eventually, I decided enough was enough, picked up the phone and dialled a familiar number.
“James’ phone!”
“Hi. It’s Mike.”
“Yes, Mike?”
There was tension in the pause that followed before I took a deep breath and told him my decision.
“If you’re really sure you both want it, and you promise you’ll keep it secret from Jane, then okay. I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure?” James said sarcastically then seemed to change his mind and added. “Sorry, I’m being bitter.”
“It’s okay,” I replied. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you.”
“I do appreciate it. I know it’s a strange thing to ask a friend. And don’t worry about Jane; we don’t want our little arrangement getting out any more than you do.”
“So, what happens next?” I asked, unsure how to proceed now the outrageous agreement had been made.
“I’ll talk to Libby, then I’ll either call you or send you a message when she needs you. You’ve got to delete the message straight afterwards. Remember that.”
“Yes of course.”
“And let’s be clear; this is just about sex, the penetrative sex she needs but I can’t deliver. Your penis in her vagina, right? I’m still perfectly capable of providing most other kinds of sex.”
“I’m sure you are…” I began.
“I’m not stupid enough to think the other stuff won’t go on; you’re both only human after all, but the aim of the game is for you to fuck her cunt with your cock, okay?”
I was shocked at James’s crude, angry words but tried to imagine how I would feel in the same position; asking another man to provide my wife with the sex I could no longer supply.
“And watch out; we don’t want you falling in love.”
“O…kay,” I said, still trying to get my head around what I was being asked to do.
“I’m serious, Mike. She’s a lovely, lovely girl and unless you’re really careful, you will fall badly in love with her.”
I could already see the possibility of that.
“Libby gets under your skin,” he continued. “And I should know. I guarantee you will fall in love with her a little, the plan can’t work without a fair bit of love on both sides. But it has to be kept under control. I don’t want either of our relationships being damaged.”
“I’ll be careful,” I said automatically.
“She’ll fall in love with you too,” he continued. “That’s a given, but I know how to handle that.”
“Okay…”
“And remember; you fucking Libby is supposed to save our marriage, not destroy yours.”
***
It was around nine-thirty the following Monday morning; so long after my conversation with James that I had started to wonder whether the whole thing had been some kind of strange joke. I was at my desk in the middle of a rather tense phone call with a client when my mobile phone beeped, and a message preview appeared on the screen.
‘James Mobile: Tomorrow afternoon 14.00 our house. She will be alone. Can you make it?’
I brought the phone call to a rapid end, hoping my client wasn’t too offended then stared at the message gobsmacked. My heart was thumping in my chest as the realisation struck and my cock immediately hardened in my trousers.
It was actually going to happen!
My hands were shaking as I typed the brief reply.
‘I will be there,’ and then as an afterthought, added. ‘Thank you.’
There was no reply.
I sat back in my office chair and started out of the window wondering what had just happened.
Had I really just agreed to cheat on my wife for the first time and to fuck one of her friends with her husband’s full agreement?
To my amazement, the answer was an unequivocal yes.
***
It was almost impossible to behave normally that evening with everything at home going on around me as if the world hadn’t just changed. It was so difficult talking keeping up my end of a banal conversation with my wife about curtains, when the following day promised such an emotional upheaval.
If I had the nerve to see it through.
In the end, I was forced to make myself scarce by going for a long, slow run until the main TV programme of the evening started, and conversation became a nuisance rather than a necessity.
Few words were spoken as Jane and I went to bed afterwards, both of us apparently engrossed in our reading books, though, in my case, the best I could manage was to skim the same half-page a dozen times before the light was switched off.
Unsurprisingly, I didn’t sleep well either. My mind was chock-full of contradictory emotions; extreme excitement at the prospect of having sex with a very attractive, willing woman fought hard against the certain knowledge that I should not even be contemplating cheating on my wife.
The battle inside me raged almost all night. Sometimes, I determined to text James as soon as it was daylight to tell him I had changed my mind; that however attractive a proposal it had been, my wife and my family had to come first.
Other times, the baser, earthier side of my nature took over, filling my head with vivid images of what making love to Libby might actually be like. The thought brought massive erections that on occasion were so hard they were physically painful; certainly more than enough to prevent anything like real sleep.
I lay awake, tormented until the small hours before falling into a brief, unrewarding doze.
I woke, unrested an hour earlier than usual and, after making endless cups of coffee, headed off to work long before Jane would be stirring, impending guilt rendering me unable or unwilling to see her sweet face over breakfast.
As I pulled into the office car park, my mind was no closer to resolving the dilemma than it had been in the night.
The morning at work was a washout too, my concentration so shot to pieces that I sent the same message to three different people twice. More than once, I picked up my phone to text James and back out, but every time, my good intentions were overwhelmed by the more powerful, baser urges emanating from between my thighs.
If I had been a morally stronger man, I might have fought these feelings harder but I am what I am, and when one-fifteen eventually arrived, I signed myself out for the rest of the day for ‘field visits’, climbed into my car and began the half-hour, cross country journey to the village in which my soon-to-be-lover was supposed to be waiting.
The wrought iron gates were open when I arrived. I drove through them and pulled my car to a careful halt on the gravel driveway before turning off the engine. My heart was thumping even louder and my pulse racing even faster as I sat and stared at the familiar house before me.
James and Libby’s house.
It was thumping even louder a few minutes later when I stood on the raised porch and rang to bell.
The door opened slowly and hesitatingly to reveal Libby standing in the hallway. I don’t know what I was expecting to see but I was taken aback. My wife’s friend of over twenty years looked simply stunning in a plain, pale green summer dress that followed the lines of her womanly figure to perfection.
Her hair was down and glowed with health; she had clearly brushed and brushed it till it shone. Her make-up, never heavy, had been applied even more carefully than normal, bringing out the pale green of her eyes and the fullness of her lips.
She looked prettier than I had ever seen her before; virginal rather than vampish; sweet rather than sexy but the effect had a profound impact on me.
“Hi,” I stammered, wrong-footed by her appearance.
“Hi,” she replied quietly, opening the door wide and letting me inside.
As Libby closed the door behind me, my tummy was full of butterflies.
“I had a message from James,” I began, anxious to sound casual in case there had been some misunderstanding.
“Actually, it was from me,” Libby smiled bashfully. “James lent me his phone.”
This came as a considerable relief.
“Oh. Good,” was all I could manage to say, followed by. “I really enjoyed dinner the other night. The food was superb.”
“I’m pleased you enjoyed it,” Libby replied, leading me through to the kitchen where an open bottle of Chilean Sauvignon Blanc and to glasses were waiting.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked with an awkward smile.
“I think I need one,” I told her truthfully then quickly added, “I’m a bit out of my comfort zone.”
Libby grinned wryly.
“Me too.”
Her hand was trembling so badly as she poured, that the bottle neck kept knocking against the edge of the glasses. I took mine from her hand and raised it.
“Cheers?” I offered.
“Cheers!” came the reply as our glasses chinked together.
I took a long sip but to my surprise, Libby downed half the entire glass in one gulp. I took the hint and matched her drop for drop.
“Dutch courage?” I suggested, taking her shaking fingers in mine. “I’m nervous too,” I smiled. “And don’t worry. If you’re not ready now, then we don’t have to do anything. We’re friends first and foremost, aren’t we?”
She looked up at me, still not quite able to make the eye contact that had been so much in evidence during the dinner party.
“I think…” she began but faltered.
“Take your time.”
She took a deep breath and looked at me again, this time our eyes met head-on.
“It’s got to be today,” she said determinedly. “I’ve got to go through with it. I’ve been so close so often and backed off, if it doesn’t happen today, I don’t think it ever will.”
“And you want it to happen?” I asked, neither of us daring to voice what ‘it’ actually was.
She nodded emphatically.
“I really want this. It’s just that it’s been building up for so long…”
There was a brief pause while I looked at the woman whose body I had come specifically to fuck, love or no love. Her upturned face, framed by her long, red-blonde hair looked so young, innocent and vulnerable that it was hard to believe she was both a partner and mother of two grown-up children. My heart ached for her.
“How long is it since…?” I asked softly.
“Since we have had proper sex?”
I nodded.
“Nearly three years.”
I really was stunned.
“Three years?”
This time it was Libby’s turn to nod.
“I told you it was a long time. James wanted to ask you a long time ago, but I got cold feet.”
“I’m pleased you changed your mind,” I smiled, and received a sheepish grin in return.
“I’ve… I’ve never done anything like this before,” I continued uncertainly. “I’m not sure… how things work?”
Libby looked relieved.
“Neither do I,” she replied. “It seems a bit… unfeeling just to get on with it without having a chat first but…”
“But?”
“But I think I need to do it quickly before I chicken out again. Do you mind, Mike?”
Did I mind? Did I mind fucking my wife’s prettiest friend?
“Whatever makes you feel most comfortable,” I replied, my heart beginning to thump.
“It feels like I’m treating you like a… a…”
“Like an escort?” I suggested.
Libby shot me a frightened look.
“James told me you had tried using one but that it hadn’t worked out for you,” I said in an attempt to reassure her. “Don’t worry. Whatever you need is okay with me.”
She smiled a heart-melting, cock-hardening smile.
“Shall we go upstairs now?”
Libby led the way up their wide, dark-wood staircase and onto the landing. All the doors were closed except one, which opened onto a bathroom.
“I… I’ve put a clean towel next to the shower for you,” she said softly, bring us to a halt outside the first open door.
“What? Oh of course,” I smiled. “Shall I go in now?”
Libby smiled coyly.
“I think you’d better, before I get cold feet again.”
“Will you be okay while I’m gone?” I grinned.
“I’ll…. I’ll find something to do!”
I closed the bathroom door behind me. the room was large, clean and bright, its walls lined with mirrors which gave me less than flattering views of my middle-aged body as I stripped and got into the shower. There was a new bottle of unscented body wash which I used to soap myself thoroughly under the hot water jets.
A sense of unreality still permeated the whole event, a sense shared with my cock which could not decide whether to hang flaccidly or to rise to half-mast as I pictured what might soon be happening.
I dried myself off thoroughly then wrapped the clean white towel around my waist, holding my tummy in as inconspicuously as I could. With my constrained tummy full of butterflies, I opened the door and stepped out onto the carpet.
There was no-one to be seen. I looked left and right, then seeing a door open at the end of the corridor, I padded silently along and passed through into the room beyond. It was a bedroom; a guest bedroom judging by the sparse furnishings but still large and warm.
The curtains had already been closed and a short, fat candle was burning on each side of a large king-size bed whose duvet had already been turned down.
“Hi!”
A nervous female voice came from close behind me. I turned and gasped. Libby stood before me in her panties and bra, both white, both lacey and apparently new. She looked awkward and self-conscious, unable to look me in the eye as I looked at her beautiful figure for the first time.
Trying as hard as I could not to stare, I ran my eyes over the soft, rounded body of the girl I had been asked to fuck, from her sweet face with its halo of red blonde air, across her smooth, broad shoulders, full breasts, gently rounded, feminine belly, broad hips and strong, shapely legs. Her lightly tanned skin contrasted perfectly with the stark whiteness of her lingerie.
It was a lovely, womanly body, full, fecund and a great deal more attractive than she herself believed.
“Libby, you are a beautiful girl,” I whispered.
“I’m a middle-aged mother,” she replied softly, her eyes on my body rather than my face.
“And a beautiful one,” I told her truthfully, stepping closer, raising my hands to gently stroke her shoulders and upper arms before placing a finger under her chin to lift her face to mine. “May I kiss you?”
There was a pause.
“I… I don’t know. Perhaps you’d better not,” she replied uncertainly.
“Can I hug you then?”
In reply, she moved a little closer. I enfolded her in my arms, drawing her soft, warm, feminine body into mine, wrapping my arms around her, my hands resting on her satin-covered buttocks. She was tense; nervous. I held her closer still until her golden head rested against my shoulder and I could smell the sweet cleanliness of her long hair.
“Are you okay?”
After a second, she nodded and I began to stroke her back and sides, from her bottom to between her shoulder blades, feeling the tension in her body, trying to reduce the stiffness in my own. I could feel my cock swelling and hardening against her smooth, round tummy, constrained uncomfortably by my over-tight towel.
For a long time, my fingers explored her soft skin, toying with her hair before running up and down her spine. I could feel the tension in her body reduce, but only slightly, and when I slipped my fingertips underneath the elastic waistband of her panties and ran my middle finger down the cleavage between her rounded buttocks, the tension returned with a vengeance.
“Perhaps if I massaged you a little? Would that help?” I suggested.
“Maybe…” Libby replied uncertainly.
“If you’ve changed your mind…” I began.
“No!” she interrupted me sharply then looked horrified at her outburst. “I’m sorry, Mike. Yes, a little massage would be lovely.”
“Why don’t you lie down on the bed,” I smiled, releasing her from my embrace
With a grace that made my towel tent still further, Libby knelt on the bed, her curves accentuated by the tightening of her panties.
“Which way?” she asked as she lowered her soft body to the clean white sheet.
“Face down first,” I replied.
I could see the tension in her back and shoulders as she settled on her front, her hands underneath her chin. I knelt alongside her, took her hands in each of mine and drew her arms down to her sides.
“You’ll relax better like this,” I reassured her.
Then without a word being spoken, I began to massage her body. Trying desperately to recall the techniques Jane and I had learned years ago, I worked my way from her neck to her shoulders and back, across her shoulder blades and slowly down her spine, kneading the tense muscles each side of her backbone with my thumbs as my fingers worked their way between her ribs.
Libby sighed; her eyes closed. I worked my way along each of her arms from her shoulder to her fingertips before returning to her spine, all the time enjoying the silky smoothness of her skin and the way my fingers sank ever so slightly into the flesh covering the bones of her chest.
“Mmmmm!” she moaned into the bedsheet.
“Is it helping?”
“Mmmmm!”
It was all the answer I needed.
Returning to the base of her spine, I began to work my thumbs upwards, side by side, towards her upper back but this time when the clasp of her bra obstructed their progress, I flicked it open. The elasticated straps sprang apart, leaving my way clear.
Libby froze for a second, then relaxed as my fingers resumed their journey up to her neck, then descended again, passing over the base of her spine and beginning to massage her buttocks and the backs of her upper thighs.
My heart thumped in my chest as I felt the warmth of her body against my fingers. It thumped louder when her legs parted slightly to give me better access to her inner thighs and even louder when I noticed the large, distinct damp patch on the gusset of her panties.
My cock was by now very hard, so much so that the towel could not contain it any longer and fell to the floor, freeing my erection to slap upwards against my lower belly in a way I had not experienced for decades.
My hands moved slowly but confidently up and down the backs of her legs, kneading the larger muscles, diving deeper and deeper between them. Libby opened a little further; soon my fingers were brushing against her panties at the top of every stroke.
She offered no resistance; the damp patch grew larger and darker.
It was time.
“Why don’t you roll onto your back?” I whispered into her ear, leaning low over her body.
Libby’s eyes opened slightly.
“Is it time?” she asked.
“I think so,” I replied, kissing the back of her head.
With a sigh, Libby slowly rolled onto her back. As her breasts fell free of the opened bra, she made a half-hearted attempt to cover herself but almost immediately abandoned it. As she settled into place before me, her large, full, untanned breasts lay against her chest, their weight drawing them either side of her body, leaving a large cleavage in between.
I looked down on the woman I was there to fuck. She really was as lovely as I had imagined. My already hard cock grew even harder and she stared at it as if transfixed.
Silently, I moved forward, slipping my fingertips under each side of her panty waistband then drawing them down, over her bottom, along her smooth thighs and away, leaving her naked on the bed, apart from a slim gold necklace and of course, her engagement ring.
Instinctively, she pressed her knees together to try and hide her freshly exposed modesty, but it was nothing but a gesture. When I place my hands on her knees and drew them apart, she offered no resistance and seconds later, I was gazing longingly at the neatest, sparsest triangle of red-gold hair I had ever imagined, her long dark gash clearly visible between two puffy, already engorged outer lips.
In an attempt to control the sheer lust that was in danger of overtaking me, I made as if to toy with her breasts, but Libby shook her head.
“I need you inside me,” she whispered, looking me in the eye.
My chest tight, I slowly and carefully mounted the bed, Libby’s thighs parting to welcome me. Placing an arm either side of her shoulders, I lowered myself on my knees until the head of my cock was just brushing against her downy pubic hair.
Libby gasped. I took my cock in on hand and slowly rubbed its smooth head up and down her slit. It was very wet; I could smell her lubrication already. It would be an easy passage into her body. A moment later, I had located the entrance to her vagina and worked my head between her long outer lips, pausing one last time, poised for the penetration we both now desperately needed.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked, trying to be sensitive but silently praying that there would be no backing out this time.
Libby looked up at me, her huge green eyes fixed on mine. Then without a word, she bit her lower lip and nodded.
I slowly pressed my hips forward and for the first time since my marriage, my erect cock began to enter the vagina of a woman who was not my wife.
Libby’s whole body tensed, her eyes closed, and her chin lifted high as I sank smoothly and easily, part-way into her wet, oh-so-ready passage. As my shaft reached deeper and deeper into her body, her soft, smooth, warm cavern wrapped itself closely around it, caressed my over-sensitised head and gripped my thick shaft firmly.
“Oh my God!” I sighed as the sensations almost overwhelmed me.
Beneath me, Libby had thrust her chest upwards. Her back arched, her full breasts falling either side of the smooth deep cleft that separated them, their nipples large, dark and erect.
“Mmmmm!” she whimpered through tightly closed lips.
I wriggled my hips a little, feeling myself slip an extra few millimetres deeper into her body, then sawed back and forth a handful of times until I felt the smooth flesh of the inside of her thighs against the outside of mine; her downy pubic hair pressed against my own sparse covering and my buried head pressed hard against the smooth peach of her cervix.
“Oh God, Libby!” I sighed.
The pleasure was so intense that for a moment, I thought I might cum on the spot, bringing the afternoon to an unplanned and unwanted premature end. I fought hard to retain control, breathing slowly and carefully, trying to adjust to the unfamiliar but wonderful sensations.
It was then I noticed that Libby was still biting her lower lip.
“Are you okay?” I whispered, looking down on her sweet face.
She nodded.
“I’d forgotten just how good it felt to have someone inside me.”
She wiggled her hips and I felt myself slip a few precious millimetres deeper into her body.
“Ohhh that’s nice,” she sighed. “It’s so, so big!”
For the most basic and stupid of reasons, this piece of news pleased me more than I can say. I couldn’t help myself; the male ego is a fragile thing, easily damaged but just as easily boosted.
Whether it was true or not didn’t matter; Libby had said it; she thought my cock was big. The knowledge seemed to make me swell even more, increasing the sensations still further if the look on her pretty face was anything to go by.
“Does it hurt?” I asked, concerned.
She shook her head.
“I just need to get used to you being inside me. I feel so, so full!”
“No regrets?” I asked one last time.
An emphatic shake of her head gave me my answer.
“It’s too late for that,” she sighed, her eyes looking up and deep into mine.
“I’m so pleased,” I smiled. “I would have hated to stop now.”
Beneath me, Libby grinned cheekily. Suddenly I felt her vagina tighten hard around my shaft, hold me for a few seconds, then relax again. I sank the last few millimetres into her, our pubic mounds finally grinding together.
“Wow!” I gasped. “That was amazing!” I told her truthfully.
“I wasn’t sure I could still do it.”
“Can you do it again?”
The answer was yes; Libby’s vagina tightened around me once more, held me for even longer, then relaxed.
“I’ve been doing my pelvic floor exercises,” she grinned.
“And they’re worth every minute,” I grinned back, wiggling my hips to adjust the lie of my cock in her vagina. “Are you feeling ready yet?” I asked.
“I guess so,” she replied, looking unsure. “Be gentle, Mike. It’s been a long time since…”
She left the sentence unfinished.
“I’ll take it slowly, I promise.”
I smiled then slowly pulled back my hips, drawing my cock from her vagina until only its smooth, swollen head was still inside her tight entrance.
She sighed, her hands falling to my forearms as if to brace herself for what we both know was about to begin.
“Ready?”
Libby nodded and I pushed myself forwards, slowly but forcefully, driving my shaft into her until it would go no further.
“Ahh!” she exhaled, noisily.
My God it felt good! I repeated the action with the same result, except it felt even better. I did it a third time, then a fourth…
Then all of a sudden, I was fucking Libby properly. Although still slow and careful, for the first time since my marriage, my erect cock was sliding rhythmically in and out of another woman’s vagina.
And it felt simply incredible!
However guilty and unsure I had felt about it beforehand, now that it was too late to back out and remain faithful to Jane; now that it was really happening; all I could do was lose myself in the amazing sensations.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
I closed my eyes as I thrust in and out of my first lover’s tight, warm vagina, feeling her amazing body beneath and around mine, inhaling deeply the aroma of this extraordinary woman.
My nose filled with her delicate perfume, the mild shampoo in her hair, the last faint traces of her body wash. But above all these and with increasing intensity, I began to smell the rich earthy scent of a woman’s vulva responding to the penetration of a real male cock.
However unsure her mind might have been, Libby’s body knew exactly what to do; enjoy the feeling of penetration and prepare itself for impregnation by a man’s sperm.
It didn’t matter that her body held no more eggs, or that the semen that would soon fill it contained no sperm; Libby’s body was doing what it had been programmed since birth to do: get ready to make babies.
As her juices began to flow and her lubrication increased, my thrusts became smoother and easier. I could increase my pace without the risk of bringing myself to climax too soon. As I thrust faster, the expression on Libby’s sweet face began to change too; shock became release, release became pleasure; pleasure led to more lubrication and the circle began again.
The noises in the room began to change too. The soft sounds of our bodies colliding acquired first a damp dullness, then the sharp slap of skin on wet skin. The bed began to creak; softly at first then with increasing noise, but best of all, soft, sweet sounds began to emerge from Libby’s mouth.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!”
So quietly that I could barely hear her, Libby had started to pant in time with my thrusts.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
“Ah! Ah! Ah!”
These were sounds of pleasure, not pain; the sounds a woman makes when she is enjoying the first stages of copulation. My own arousal rose sharply.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
“Ah! Ah! Ah!”
“Mmmmm!” I purred as the pleasure mounted for me too.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
“Ah! Ah! Ah!”
“MMMMMM!”
Libby’s increasing arousal was soon confirmed by the copious wetness oozing from her slit and the increasing pungent smell in the air.
Slap! Slap! Slap Slap!
Dangerously aroused, I tried to pace myself and maintain some control over my body. Having got this far, premature ejaculation was unthinkable, but Libby’s body felt so incredibly good it was a real danger.
Decades of unimaginative, routine and in recent years, increasingly rare sex with my wife had dulled both my memory and my senses. After a lifetime of fidelity, the new and unfamiliar sensations made my head begin to spin.
It had been so long since my cock had been inside any vagina other than my wife’s that I had completely forgotten how very different women’s bodies could feel.
Where Jane’s vagina was loose, Libby’s fit me like a handmade glove, holding me close, touching every millimetre of my shaft from its base to its swollen tip as it plunged into her over and over again.
Where Jane’s vagina was so deep that I could willingly lose myself inside her, Libby’s was so shallow that her firm, pink cervix was pressed hard against my head with a good two inches of my shaft still visible outside her soft body.
Where Jane’s entrance had rough places where she had torn giving birth, Libby’s was uniformly smooth and tight, grasping the thick base of my shaft firmly as I bottomed out inside her, driving that pink peach high into her belly with every forceful stroke.
Their aromas were different too. Jane’s vaginal juices always smelled earthy and deeply sexual, arousing me in crude, feral ways which in the past had driven me to fuck her hard and almost brutally. In contrast, the smells coming from Libby’s vulva were sweeter and more delicate, still massively arousing but begging me to be slow and gentle with her.
But in both cases, the imperative was to enjoy the intense pleasure of their bodies before filling them with my semen; an event that my body suddenly told me in no uncertain terms would not be far away and was impossible to prevent.
“I’m going to cum!” I gasped. “Going to cum too soon! I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” came the husky voice from below me.
I looked down into Libby’s face as my strokes grew faster and more erratic. Her full breasts wobbled up and down in time with my thrusts, the noises emanating from our groins suddenly louder and wetter as her juices flowed more and more freely.
“I’m sorry…” I repeated, my voice strained.
“Shhh! Just do it, please just do it! Let it all go!”
For a few seconds, I felt her pelvic floor flex and her amazing vagina tightened hard around my shaft. Any hope I had of controlling my ejaculation was instantly lost.
“Oh my God! Oh My God!”
The words that escaped Libby’s mouth were echoed immediately by my own voice.
“Oh my God! Oh My God!”
And then it came. My God, it came! The burning sensation that began at the base of my cock then shot suddenly down both my inner thighs and up my back was familiar in nature, but far, far more intense than I had encountered in many, many years.
“I’m cumming!” I gasped. “Cumming!”
Knowing that it would be simply impossible to hold back a climax as powerful as this, I didn’t even try, simply surrendering myself to the bodily spasms and convulsions that would lead to what could only be a massive ejaculation.
“Do it, Mike! Cum in me cum in meee!”
For a moment, I saw an expression I first interpreted as disappointment flash across Libby’s face, but then it dissolved into a look I can only describe as the silent, unresisting acceptance of what was about to take place. The primeval, feral satisfaction a woman feels when every element of her body wants, needs and is ready to be inseminated and realises it is about to happen.
She looked beautiful; serene; her eyes half-closed, her pupils huge and dark as I hammered into her vulnerable, completely compliant body.
I had seen that expression on Jane’s face several times in the past, especially when we were trying for a baby. It was an expression that spoke to something deep in my soul and could drive me close to violence in my lovemaking.
“Oh my God, Libbyyyyy!”
My spine went into convulsions, my breath choked in my throat and with an animal growl that came from somewhere deep within my past, my cock took complete control of my body, throbbing and pulsating as my hips ground my pubic bone hard against Libby’s mound.
“Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed, unable to control myself as years of pent-up lust and frustration were released and I began to spurt rope after rope of thick semen into her vagina and over the smooth, rounded peach of her cervix.
The look of satisfaction on her pretty, innocent face as I inseminated her for the first time is one that I will remember forever.
(Concludes in Part 2)
