Christopher was one of my more unusual sexual liaisons. He and his wife, Peggy, had 3 children at the same school as my two, and I would bump into him from time to time.
I didn’t like Peggy. She was one of these career women who think that wives who stay at home are stupid and useless. She worked in banking, and seemed to be very successful.
Christopher has also been in banking, but was now a stay-at-home husband. He was a pleasant enough man, but not very confident. Peggy, on the other hand, was super-confident and clearly dominated him.
It was her behaviour at a parent-teacher meeting one evening that sparked the idea of a liaison with her husband. She had been holding forth about how difficult it was for a woman to be successful in a man’s world and what sacrifices she had made for her career.
“But aren’t you sorry that you’re not being with your children as they grow up?” I asked.
“Well, yes, in a way,” she replied, “but someone has to bring in the money, and Chris is simply not able to earn anything like the salary and bonus that I get. That’s why he stays at home and looks after the children.”
“You seem to think that what he’s doing is not important,” I replied.
“It’s not as important as my contribution,” she said, “and it doesn’t take much skill to do it.”
“What do you think, Chris?” I asked, looking at him.
“Um. Er. I don’t think Peggy knows what’s involved, but I’m happy to do it.”
“Well, I know what’s involved, and it’s damn difficult. Probably just as difficult as your job, Peggy,” I said.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said, laughing, “anyone can look after a home and raise children.”
“Well, I disagree, and I’m sure Chris does too,” I said, putting a hand on his forearm.
Chris, however, didn’t say anything. Peggy then seemed to decide that the conversation was over and turned away to look for someone else to talk to. That was when I decided that I was going to have her husband in my bed.
The rest of the evening passed without anything much of interest, and I went home thinking about what I could do to further my plan.
For the next few weeks, I kept a lookout for Chris whenever I was taking or fetching my children from school, making sure to talk with him as I walked to or from the school gates. It wasn’t long before we were greeting each other with cheek kisses and had exchanged telephone numbers.
As the days progressed, I became increasingly tactile with him, touching his arms frequently and holding him closely when we kissed hello or goodbye.
Then, after a month or so, came the breakthrough. I was about to drive off from the school when Chris appeared at my car window.
“Oh, hello, Chris,” I said.
“Hello, Jane. Sorry to bother you.”
“You’re never a bother, Chris. What can I do for you?”
“Could you perhaps pick up my boys this afternoon? I have to see the doctor and won’t be able to pick them up.”
“Of course I can,” I replied, “they can come home with me. You can fetch them when you’re ready.”
“Oh, thank you so much, Jane. I really appreciate that.”
“No problem. I’ll text my address to you later.”
He turned away and left as I started my car and drove home.
That afternoon, I changed my clothing into something more interesting. I put on a light jersey onesie, which had a low-cut, scooped neckline over short pants, and clung to my body. I didn’t wear any underwear.
I picked up the children mid-afternoon and drove them back to the house, where I gave them sandwiches and squash. They all seemed to get on very well. Once they’d finished, they went into the living room and amused themselves.
Chris arrived after about an hour. I let him in the front door, kissing him hello on each cheek. He stood back and looked at me.
“Wow! You look great,” he said.
“Oh, thank you,” I replied, “you look good yourself. Why don’t you come through and have something to drink in the kitchen? The children seem to be happy in the living room.”
“What would you like to drink?” I asked when we reached the kitchen.
“Some coffee, thank you.”
I put on the filter-coffee machine and turned round to face him, leaning back against the counter, deliberately thrusting out my chest. I could feel the fabric of my onesie chafing my nipples and making them stand out. I could also see that he was looking at them.
“I hope your medical appointment was OK,” I said.
“It was fine, thanks,” he replied, “I needed to get something prescriptions reviewed.”
“Nothing serious, then?”
“No, not really.”
“Well, if you ever need a non-involved person to talk to, I’m here, and I’m a good listener.”
“Thank you. I’ll remember that.”
I turned back to the coffee machine and poured out two mugs, then moved over to hand him one. He thanked me as he took it, and we both sat down at the kitchen table.
We talked about the usual parental things as we drank our coffee, but I noticed him surreptitiously looking over my body as we chatted. After some time, he said that he should go and stood up. I did the same, and that was when I noticed a bulge in the front of his jeans.
“I’ve enjoyed talking with you, Chris. We should do this again sometime.”
“Me too. I’ve had a great time.”
I looked at him, then reached out and took his right hand and placed it on my left breast and held it there as I continued to gaze into his eyes. I saw them widen, then felt his fingers squeeze my breast. Neither of us said a word.
I let go of his hand and reached for his jeans, rubbing his bulge.
“Jane, we shouldn’t do this,” he said softly.
“I don’t care,” I replied, “I’ve been wanting to do it for ages.”
“Oh, God,” he murmured, as his fingers rubbed over my turgid nipple.
“Kiss me, Chris.”
He took his hand off my breast and pulled me towards him, then bent down and kissed me, his tongue parting my lips. I opened my mouth and licked under his tongue as it probed my gums and teeth. He tasted good.
He put his hands on my buttocks and pulled me closer to his body, my stomach pressing against the bulge in his jeans. His fingers bunched up the material of my onesie as they searched for the hem of the short pants. It wasn’t long before they were on the bare skin of my buttocks, pulling them apart and sliding down under my crotch.
I felt a tingle in my groin as his fingers brushed over my labia. I could feel my juices flowing.
“Aaah,” I murmured into his mouth as I squirmed under his touch.
He broke our kiss and withdrew his fingers from my crotch. They were glistening with my juices. I took hold of his hand and put it to my mouth so that I could suck my juices off his fingers, watching his eyes widen as I did so.
“God, you’re sexy,” he said.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” I replied, smiling at him as I rubbed the front of his jeans. He seemed to have rather a large package lurking inside them, and I couldn’t wait to see what it looked like.
“When can I see you again?” he asked.
“I’m free tomorrow morning.”
“My place?”
“Yes. Give me the address, and I’ll come round after I’ve dropped off the children.”
He told me his address, then said he had better see what the children were doing, as he needed to go back home.
We separated and walked through to the living room, but they weren’t there. Then we saw them through the large window overlooking the garden, playing some sort of game outside. Chris went out and called them, telling his children that it was time to go. They grumbled, but came back inside.
I watched as they gathered their belongings together, then went with them to the front door. The children walked over to the car as I said goodbye to Chris with an air kiss on each cheek. He got into the car, and I watched them drive off.
Later that afternoon, after I’d cleaned up the kitchen and started the children on their homework, I thought about what had happened. Everything had proceeded pretty much as I had hoped. There was no doubt that Peggy’s husband would be mine tomorrow and, even more rewarding, I would have him in her bed, the bed where she slept next to him every night.
He wasn’t a bad-looking fellow. Around 6’ tall, brown hair, green eyes, slim build. I couldn’t tell much about his physique, but I’d certainly know soon enough. He had been more forthright than I had expected, which made me wonder about his sexual relationship with his wife. Perhaps he was less subservient than I had thought.
________________________________________
The next day, I woke up feeling very sexy. Clearly, I was looking forward to my clandestine meeting with Chris. I clasped my crotch, then ran my fingers up and down between my labia, parting them slightly. It felt really good.
My labia started to unfurl and open up, and I could feel moisture on my fingers. I felt for my vaginal entrance, inserting two fingers into it and pulling upwards. That made my clitoris itch, and it wasn’t long before I was grinding the base of my hand over it as my hips moved involuntarily.
I glanced at my husband, who was still sleeping, wondering whether I should wake him up, then decided not to do so. I would keep my vagina unused for my first time with Chris.
I imagined Peggy’s husband towering over me, looking down at his conquest and smiling, his upper body raised on his hands as his penis thrust in and out of my hot canal.
I felt a spurt of liquid on my hand as my body reacted to my thoughts, then, steeling myself, I removed my fingers and deliberately stopped pleasuring myself. I wanted to be as sexually charged as I could when I mated with him.
I got out of bed and went through my usual morning routine, getting washed, dressed, waking everyone up, making breakfast, getting them ready, and finally seeing them off.
Sal was on lift club duty today and arrived to pick up the children. She asked whether I was free for coffee later on. I said I wasn’t, as I had another arrangement.
My husband left for work shortly afterwards, leaving me to get ready for my meeting.
I went back upstairs and changed into something more interesting. Sheer flesh-coloured underwear, a cream blouse with the top buttons undone so that my cleavage was displayed, and a pair of tight cotton trousers, with a low-cut waist and flared at the bottom.
After checking everything was alright, I drove to Chris and Peggy’s house. When I arrived, I saw that it was a large house on a property with a well-laid-out garden in immaculate condition. I parked my car in the driveway, walked to the front door, and rang the bell.
Chris opened the door almost immediately. He was dressed in a formal shirt with the top buttons undone and a pair of black slacks. I could see a mass of black hair curling out of the top of his shirt. He stood back for me to enter, then shut the door.
“God, you look stunning,” he said.
“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”
“Can I get you anything? Would you like some coffee or tea?”
He was clearly uneasy and didn’t know how to start.
“No, thanks, I’m fine,” I replied, “why don’t you show me around the house. I’d love to see it.”
“Of course,” he replied, “follow me.”
With that, he led me from the entrance hall through the various rooms on the ground floor, stopping and commenting in each one. They were all quite large, decorated in cream or off-white, furnished with modern light fittings and very modern furniture. They were also spotless – you could have eaten off the floors – as well as being minimalistic. To me, they were quite antiseptic and not homely at all.
“Wow! Peggy likes to keep a spotless place,” I said.
“Oh, yes,” Chris said, “she insists on absolute cleanliness. Let’s go upstairs.”
I followed him up a very grand staircase to the landing at the top, thinking that he had a really nice butt, not too small and very firm. We went into the first of four bedrooms, three for the children and one spare. All of these were also immaculate, quite unlike a normal child’s bedroom. The two bathrooms were similarly modern, minimalistic, and spotless.
Finally, we entered the master bedroom with its en-suite bathroom and separate dressing room. There was a huge bed against the far wall, a large dressing table with some accessories on it, a small couch, and two easy chairs.
‘“Wow!” I said, “That’s some bed you’ve got there. You could have a party on it.”
“I wish,” Chris said, laughing.
“Is this where your children were conceived?”
“Yes.”
I stepped close to him.
“And did you make love to your wife after you left me yesterday?”
“Oh, God, no. She doesn’t like it during the week.”
I looked at him.
“You mean you only make love on the weekends?”
“Well, yes, and not every weekend.”
“How can she resist you?”
“Very easily, it seems.”
“Well, I can’t,” I said, reaching up and stroking his cheek.
He leaned down and kissed me, his tongue licking my lips. I opened my mouth slightly and soon our tongues were dancing with each other, our saliva mixing.
I reached up and put my hand into the opening of his shirt, feeling the mass of hair on his chest. I was pleased he had so much body hair; it’s something that I find masculine and sexy. My fingers roamed around until I found a nipple. It was hard.
I broke our kiss and leaned back, then undid the buttons of his shirt and eased it off his shoulders. He pulled his arms out of the sleeves and let it fall to the carpet.
His body was indeed hairy, but it was also in very good shape. He was lean and wiry with strong-looking pecs and a washboard abdomen. His chest was a mass of long black hairs, with a thick line running down towards his waist, where it broadened into a wide thatch before disappearing beneath his waistband.
“You’re a very sexy man,” I said, tracing my fingers over his chest and down the line over his stomach.
He blushed and looked embarrassed.
I stood back and undid my blouse, removing it and dropping it on the floor, then undid my belt, unhooked the waistband of my slacks, and unzipped them. I wriggled my hips, and they slid to the floor, where I stepped out of them.
“Oh, my God!” he exclaimed.
“Take off my bra,” I said.
He stepped behind me and undid the clasp, then pulled my bra down, releasing my breasts. I pulled my arms through the straps and let it fall to the floor.
He cupped my breasts in his hands, lifting them slightly as his fingers tweaked my nipples. I leaned back against him, looking up at his face as he played with my breasts, then reached behind me and felt for his fly.
I found the zip and lowered it, then pushed my fingers into the gap. I could feel his penis encased in some sort of jersey material. It was hard. I rubbed it through the material and felt it jerk.
I felt for the hem of his underwear and pushed it down so that my hand could feel him directly. His penis was warm and very hard, nestling against a very thick bush of pubic hair. His glans felt quite large and was wet and slippery.
I felt his hands leave my breasts and slide down the side of my body to rest on my outer thighs, then gradually move inwards as his fingers slid underneath the leg hem of my panties and rubbed my slit. I squirmed.
“Pull them off, Chris,” I said, taking my hand out of his fly.
He squatted down and did as I said, pulling them down my legs. I turned around to face him. He leaned forward and pushed his nose into my bush.
“God, you smell good,” he said.
I took his hand and helped him back up, then undid his belt and pulled his trousers down, kneeling down as I did so. He was wearing Y-fronts, and they appeared to be hiding a rather large appendage.
I started pulling them down too, and his penis sprang out, standing up at a 45-degree angle. It was a good size, nothing fantastic, but good. He was circumcised, and his glans was larger than I would have expected. It was also beautifully shaped.
I like the look of circumcised penises. I think they are beautiful. Their only drawback, from my experience, seems to be that they are more sensitive than uncircumcised ones. That’s strange, as I would have thought that exposing the glans would make it less sensitive.
I carried on pulling down his Y-fronts until slowly his testicles emerged together with a very large scrotum, but what happened next was amazing. As his y-fronts descended, so did his testicles, hanging down further and further as they lost the support of his pants. Eventually, they stopped some way down between his thighs. These were the lowest-hanging testicles I’d ever seen. They were also unusually large.
“My God, Chris, what have you got here?” I asked, rhetorically, looking up at him.
I saw his face crumple.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Sorry? Why on earth are you sorry? They’re magnificent, absolutely stupendous. Most men would love to have what you’ve got.”
“You think so? Peggy doesn’t like them. She thinks it’s weird.”
“She’s crazy, I love them and so would most women.”
I put a hand underneath and cradled them, feeling their weight. They were heavy. I rolled them around with my fingers. They felt firm and even. I let them go, watching them swing back and forth. They were magnificent. I played with them for a few minutes, then stood up and climbed into the bed. Chris followed.
We knelt on the bed, facing each other, both uncertain as to what to do next. I leaned forward and kissed him, my lips nibbling at his, my tongue flicking between them to taste him and lick his saliva. He sucked it between his lips, his tongue licking at the tip of mine.
I ran my hands over his shoulders and pulled him closer. My fingers felt his shoulder blades rippling beneath his skin as his body moved. I could feel a layer of fine hair covering his back.
He pulled my upper body closer to his as we kissed, and I could feel my breasts rubbing against his chest, my nipples being tickled by his thick mat of hair. I murmured into his mouth.
His hands moved around under my armpits to run up and down my sides, his thumbs rubbing my breasts. I could feel his penis pressing against my bush, hard and springy.
God, I wanted it inside me. I wanted to feel it forcing its way into my innermost core. I wanted to feel its power as it plundered my most intimate parts. I wanted to feel it jerk and spray his fertile cum inside me, to feel the slimy fluids swirl through my vagina. I broke our kiss.
“I want you, Chris. Take me.”
I fell backwards slowly, dragging him on top of me as I lifted my knees up and put my feet on the bed. He lowered himself so that we moved together, supporting his upper body by putting his hands on the bed on either side of me.
“Shouldn’t I get a condom?” he asked.
“No,” I replied, looking into his eyes and smiling as I reached between us and grasped his penis. “I want to feel your bare skin against mine.”
I rubbed the head of his penis against my slit, moving it around so that it separated my labia, then pushed it down into my vaginal entrance, tilting my hips upwards so that it slipped in until it was stopped by my vaginal sphincter.
I watched the expression on his face, a mixture of joy, lust and conquest, as his penis slowly made its way into my body, forcing my muscles to relax and accept the invader. The head of his penis felt incredibly hard and unyielding, but at the same time gentle on my skin, as it pushed its way forward. I felt him tense his muscles and the pressure on my entrance increase, when suddenly my muscles gave up, and his glans popped through my entrance and into my vaginal canal.
“Aaaah,” I sighed, “oh, God, that feels good,” as his penis parted my vaginal walls, his large glans opening up my vaginal void, his corona rubbing the sensitive top of my canal and sending shocks through my nervous system.
I felt his penis twitch as it continued its journey into my core, sending little ripples of pleasure through my groin. I could feel fluids running down my butt-crack as my body responded.
I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his waist, hooking my ankles together and resting my heels on the small of his back, then reached up and rubbed his chest, my fingers tickling his nipples.
“Fuck me, you gorgeous man.”
A big smile spread across his face, and he began thrusting. Long, slow strokes in an even rhythm. I could feel my vagina getting wetter and more slippery as he thrust in and out of me, and it began to itch. I moved my hips in synch with his, trying to relieve the tension.
His face was now quite concentrated, his mouth slightly open, and his breathing heavier. His strokes were getting longer, and I felt his penis go deeper inside me as my vagina relaxed and expanded. It felt really good. He was touching parts inside me that felt unusually sensitive.
“Kiss me, Chris.”
He bent down to kiss me, then put his hands under the small of my back and lifted me, changing the angle of his penis inside me so that the top of his shaft rubbed against my clitoris.
“Oh!” I cried, “Oh God, yes,” as he fucked me. My clitoris was on fire and itched like crazy.
I pulled him down and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, my hips bucking underneath his thrusts.
“Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh,” I grunted with each thrust, as I felt every muscle in my body tighten, and my skin became hyper-sensitive. Then suddenly it was too much.
“Fuck me, you sexy bastard, fuck me,” I shouted as I beat my hands on his back and my body thrashed around under him.
He went wild. He pounded in and out of me as if I were a rag doll, my body bouncing around under his onslaught, his pubic bone bashing against mine.
His cock plunged in and out of my vagina, ravaging my labia and pushing against my vaginal walls. It felt magnificent.
Then I felt him give a huge thrust and hold still. His muscles tensed, and I felt the underside of his shaft bulge out as a wad of semen jetted out of his cockhead and sprayed deep inside me.
“Aaaargh,” I cried as he ejaculated, my pelvic muscles tensing and my vagina clutching at his penis, then relaxing as a wave of relief washed over my body.
It was only a moment, then he ejaculated again and again and again until I lost count, seemingly never stopping and keeping me in a state of constant orgasm, tensing and releasing with him. It was quite incredible. Eventually, he stopped, and we both lay still, breathing heavily.
I unhooked my ankles and took my legs off his back, stretching them out on the bed. He remained inside me and was still relatively hard, but I could feel his semen oozing out of my vagina and dribbling down my crack and adding to the pool of slimy white stuff underneath me. I knew he had big testicles, but his prostate must also have been unusually large.
“Wow!” I exclaimed, “That was something else. I don’t think I’ve had an orgasm like that in years.”
“Me neither. You’re a fabulous lover.”
“Do you always cum so much?”
“Not usually as much as that, but I do cum a lot.”
“Mmmmm. Lucky man. Lucky wife, too.”
“Oh, she doesn’t like it. She makes me wear a condom. Sometimes they burst, though, and she gets really upset.”
Silly cow, I thought. You don’t know what you’ve got, and you don’t deserve it.
“Well, I like it, and I liked feeling you ejaculate inside me.”
His penis jerked when I said that, making me wonder how quickly he would recover.
“I think you should pull out,” I said.
He arched his hips and withdrew his penis. I watched as it came out, a thread of semen joining its tip with my slit. He rolled to the side and lay on his back, his penis resting on his abdomen, dribbling onto his stomach. His large balls lay on the bed between his legs, looking like a bag of lemons.
I turned on my side and looked at him, rubbing my fingers up and down his slippery shaft. It had given me a lot of pleasure. I could feel his semen oozing out of my slit and sliding down my inner thigh. I ran my fingers up my thigh to trap it, then sucked my fingers. His cum was thick and glutinous, and had a nice taste.
I finished licking them, then leaned over and licked the top of his glans, my tongue lapping at the cum dribbling from his slit. I felt his penis jerk and more cum flow out of the tip.
I pushed my mouth down over his glans, feeling the ridge of his corona against my lips as his head slid inside and my tongue tickled his frenulum.
“Aaaah,” he sighed, “oh fuck, that’s nice.”
I swirled my tongue around his penis, licking every ridge that I could, feeling his member throb and twitch. I reached out to hold his balls, feeling his testicles moving around inside his scrotum as they rested in the palm of my hand.
His penis grew harder and bigger, and he started moving his hips up and down, thrusting into my mouth.
I felt him push deeper until suddenly I gagged. I pulled back quickly, saliva mixed with his precum pouring out of my mouth and onto his abdomen, his penis standing up, twitching and dripping in front of my face.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” he said, “I got carried away. No one’s ever done that to me before.”
I looked at him in amazement. I couldn’t believe that he’d never been fellated before, but it told me something about his sexual confidence and his relationship with his wife. She was clearly very much in control and had relegated him to a subservient role, where attending to her likes and dislikes was what mattered. Worst of all, he had accepted it.
I now had to decide what to do. I could play to his subservience, taking advantage of it for my own enjoyment, or I could work at building his confidence. I decided to follow the second path, probably because I wanted his wife to have her nicely planned life disrupted.
“That’s alright, Chris. I just need to get used to the size of your cock,” I said, then wrapped my lips back around his glans and started sucking him again.
This time, I managed to control my gag reflex, taking his cockhead deep inside my mouth. I could feel it scraping my palate as it thrust in and out.
Chris was now breathing quite heavily and grunting regularly. I could feel his testicles start shifting again, almost as though they were alive, then I understood what was happening. He was getting close to climaxing again.
“I’m going to cum,” he growled.
“Mmmmm,” I responded, sucking and licking.
I felt his cockhead expand and his shaft thicken as his body tensed, then a glob of cum shot into the back of my throat. I swallowed quickly, feeling the musky slime slide down my throat, ready for another spurt, but that was it.
He sighed, and his body relaxed. This time his penis quickly softened and shrank. I lifted my head and let it slip out of my mouth, then rested my head on his hairy stomach as my hand carefully let his balls back down to rest on the bed.
“Thank you,” he said, his hand stroking my cheek, “you’ve done something very special.”
“My pleasure,” I replied.
We lay there for several minutes. I thought about what had happened. What had started as a way of getting back at a woman who had been dismissive of me, had turned into something much more interesting.
Her husband, who I had thought of as a dominated, beta male, had shown himself to be an extremely accomplished and satisfying lover. He had also revealed a significant element of strength inside him, which belied his subservience to his wife. All it needed was nurturing, and that could be achieved by building his confidence, making him feel good about himself.
I’d had a really good time so far, and I could see the potential for repeating and enhancing it many times over in circumstances that were also almost too good to be true. He was at home and available all of the time, making daytime liaisons easy. I decided that that was exactly what I was going to do. I was going to have him as often as I could.
“Shall we go and get something to eat?” I asked, raising my head off his stomach, “I’m feeling a little peckish.”
“Of course,” he replied.
I sat up and felt another glob of semen dribble out of my vagina.
“Good God, Chris, your cum keeps oozing out of me. At this rate, I’m going to have wet panties for days,” I said, wondering how I was going to hide this from my husband.
I got off the bed, holding my hand underneath my crotch as I looked for my panties. I found them and put them on, then held my palm in front of Chris’s face.
“Here, clean your semen off my hand.”
He licked it tentatively.
“It’s not so bad,” he said, getting off the bed and pulling me towards him and kissing me.
“I’m so glad we found each other.”
“So am I,” I said.
“Let’s go downstairs, then.”
Still naked, we went down to the kitchen, where I watched him make some coffee, fascinated at the way his balls swung from side to side as he stirred the mixture. I stepped over to him and held them in my hand, feeling their hairy sac with my fingers.
“You’re a very sexy man, Chris.”
He stopped what he was doing and turned towards me.
“And you, Jane, you are a very sexy woman and an exceptional lover.”
“It takes two,” I replied, rubbing my breasts against his chest and feeling his penis stir.
“Oh God, Jane,” he sighed, “please don’t. I really, really want you, but the children will be coming home soon.”
“Oh! I hadn’t noticed the time. I suppose we’d better get dressed and tidy up.”
He leaned forward and kissed me, his tongue licking my lips, then drew back.
“Would you be able to come tomorrow?”
“Yes, I can do that.”
He leaned forward and kissed me again, after which we finished our coffee and went back upstairs to get dressed. As I was putting on my clothes, I looked at the rumpled sheets and imagined his wife lying next to him in the bed right where her husband had fucked another woman. I smiled as I thought that I would probably still have her husband’s semen dribbling out of my vagina while she was next to him.
“Tonight, when you’re in bed next to your wife, I want you to remember how you fucked me, how your penis felt as it pounded in and out of my vagina, how it felt as that tickle turned into an overwhelming urge and you ejaculated deep inside me, spraying your fertile sperm into my innermost sanctum, over and over again until it oozed out onto the sheets.”
“Oh, God, Jane. Stop it, or I won’t be able to control myself.”
“Of course you can,” I replied, laughing. “I was only teasing you.”
“You are so naughty, and I’m going to feel so guilty.”
“That will go away in time. You may have to make love to her tonight, if she allows it, to assuage that guilt.”
“Is that what you do? Will you make love with your husband tonight?”
“Yes, I will.”
“And will you remember this morning?”
“Oh, yes, I most certainly will.”
He smiled and kissed me again, before walking to the bedroom door together and going downstairs and to the front door.
“Until tomorrow, then,” he said. “Same time?”
“Same time,” I replied.
We walked out to my car, where he opened the door for me. I got in and started the engine, then waved goodbye and drove off.
________________________________________
My affair with Chris lasted for several months. It was intense and frequent, mostly at his house, although there were a few times when he visited me, and once at another parent/teacher evening where we found an empty room and he fucked me from behind as I leaned over a desk. That was especially rewarding as I made a point of talking with Peggy later on, while her husband’s cum was dribbling down my inner thigh.
As time moved on, however, the intensity died down, and our visits became less frequent but always most enjoyable. Eventually the regular visits stopped, and our liaisons dwindled to perhaps once a month until the children left school, after which we didn’t see each other anymore.
