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Thursdays 9/29

Big Dick

Interlude:

As I look back on it, what surprised me most in the aftermath of that second encounter was not the lack of guilt–after its absence following the first I no longer expected it. Nor was it the wonder of the clear attraction, a mutual attraction, between this younger woman and me. I had never considered myself very physically attractive nor sexually magnetic in any way. But her willingness that second time, her refusal to simply repudiate what we had done, had me wondering. Even that was not what shocked me. No, it was the positive effect on my married sex life.

When I arrived home after fucking my classmate, it seemed destined to unspool as it had previously. My wife was once again reclining in bed with a book and, once again, I leaned in to kiss her. As I did so, I was keenly aware of the risk I ran. Though I had cleaned off somewhat, I worried that some trace of her perfume or of her scent might cling to me. Did my lips show the evidence of passionate kisses, or of their assault on her breast? If I was going to give myself away, it was going to be in that moment as I drew near.

A funny thing happened. As I kissed her, her lips parted and, without warning, we were kissing with passion, our tongues dueling as though for the first time. Our lips brushed gently as we would pull away to the point where there was almost no contact and then return full force. Abandoning caution, I pulled away the cover, running my hand up her thigh. I noted that they were still supple after all these years, a bit plump perhaps, but pleasing to the touch. When I reached her crotch, her panties were already wet, wetter than they had been in years. I pressed one finger against the fabric, right where I knew the opening of her vagina was located, and rubbed slowly in circles, thrilling to her gasps and sighs.

I had thus far had my eyes closed and now I opened them to look at her. She was still lovely though, like me, she bore an extra few pounds in her belly and thighs and arms. Her brown hair was splayed out across the pillow and I briefly flashed to the image of my classmate’s red hair similarly arrayed I had had earlier. Her eyes were closed, she was breathing heavily, lips slightly parted. The fabric of her nightgown tented where her nipples poked forward from her full breasts.

Seized–there is no other way to put it–with desire for her, I reached to remove her panties. Obligingly, she lifts her hips and opens her eyes, a devilish smile on her face, spreading her legs once they have been removed. Then I removed my pants and crawled onto şanlıurfa escort the bed between her legs. I rubbed my penis against her, causing her to gasp as I rubbed against her clit, and leading her to take me in hand and guide me to her opening.

I slid in easily; burying myself slowly and gently to the hilt, listening to the catch in her breathing as I do so. Then, pulling back, I pressed forward gently again and began making love to my wife. I was surprised by her wetness, but totally unprepared for what this would be like. As her hips rose to meet me, I felt the familiar warmth of her, the softness as I thrust forward, coming to a rest in the cradle of her thighs, the tugging as I withdraw, the tangling of her pubic hair with mine. All of these things were familiar and I felt them all as new.

Our gentleness as we made love, a gentleness not without passion (something noticeably absent in recent years) was an exquisite counterpoint to the fucking I had engaged in earlier. I slid easily like this for a long while, relishing the increased warmth and tightness as she came once, then again, and then one more time. Finally, after that third orgasm I came, the strength of my climax undiminished by my earlier encounter, and she rose to meet me, engulfing me completely in her, scratching my shoulder.

Afterwards I reflected on what had happened. I wondered whether she had noted something amiss and was staking a claim, whether some subtle and unconscious cue told her we should have sex. I’ll never know. Nor will I know why I was suddenly so moved because, for so long, she had failed to move me, indeed had seemed uninterested in doing so. In the following week we had four more such encounters, each one a miniature symphony in passion and gentleness. It was the best week of sex, even excluding the conference room tryst, since we had started dating.

* * *

My paramour (for this is how I have come to think of her) twirls her hair absent-mindedly around her index finger. There is a new piercing at the top of her left ear and I wonder what it would feel like under my tongue. Thinking this, I realize I have not explored her lovely ears. I feel that I have neglected something important and promise myself to discover it when I have the chance.

Since our escapade the previous week, the presence of a skirt seemed a signal promising further delights. But this week, instead of appearing naked beneath her clothes, she wears a bra under a low-cut silk blouse, showing cleavage I would not have imagined to be there. She leans forward as she sits in her usual spot, giving me the full show. I smile, remembering the feel of her nipple under my tongue.

Beginning with that moment, I notice that something has shifted. Several times in discussion we lock eyes, in a manner that to an outside observer–and I’m certain someone must notice–would seem inappropriate between a married man and a woman. Our flirtations grow somewhat bolder. Sooner or later we will be unmasked.

This increased lack of subtlety continues in the break. I am, as usual, the last to leave the classroom but, unusually, she is waiting by the door. Though there is no one else in sight, I feel exposed to the world, all the moreso when she takes my hand and leads me down the hall to the conference room.

I am a bit taken aback by her forwardness which, in retrospect, seems a bit silly when I remember that a scant few minutes after I first kissed her she had let me come in her mouth. Still, it seems there are proprieties and courtesies to be observed. We have already crossed more lines than I ever expected, but none of those had the potential for ruin that our exposure would bring. As she closes the door I start to ask her, “What the hell are you thinking?”

Almost before I can finish the sentence she is upon me, kissing me fiercely and rubbing my cock which, in spite of my concern, is rock hard and betrays what I really want. There is an almost desperate quality to the kiss in the aggressiveness of her tongue-play. She runs it alongside mine and along the ridge of my teeth, inside my lips, as though inventorying its contents. When our mouths part she sighs, as though with relief.

“I know that wasn’t subtle, but I’ve been thinking about your mouth and about your dick all week,” she says as she starts unfastening my belt and my pants. “I’ve been sitting there getting wetter and wetter just thinking about fucking you.”

She has my cock free and clear again, and begins stroking it, which causes me to moan. My eyes close.

“Have you been thinking about me,” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Have you been stroking your dick while you imagine my pussy tightening around it.” She squeezes my cock at the base and pulls upward. The sensation of skin tightening is almost unbearable. “Have you touched yourself like this,” she hisses into my ear.

“Yes, but not as well.”

“You want to come inside me again?”

“Oh God yes.”

I open my eyes and that devilish smile plays across her face. Then she turns and bends over the conference table, lifting her skirt to show me, once again, that she wears no panties, and resting on her forearms. The light from the doorway reflects off the pale skin of her ass and I take a moment to look at it, to touch it. It is firm beneath my hands, well-toned to the eye, and as I cup one of her cheeks, I trace it down between her legs and find her cunt, pressing a finger inside and feeling her shiver as I work it back and forth.

She is moaning, rapt, almost begging. “Fuck me. Please.”

I step forward, positioning my cock in about the right place, trying to avoid an accidental incursion on her anus. My initial thrust takes me too far forward and my head rubs against her clit, making her gasp. I pull back slowly along her slit and then begin probing forward, slowly. Finally, I catch at her opening, making her moan as she shifts her hips slightly to lodge me inside her. “Fuck me, goddammit,” she moans, “take what you want.”

Taking her at her word I grab her hips and thrust my cock all the way into her. I hear her sharp intake of breath and it is the last thing I hear as the inchoate lust takes over. Tightening my grip on her hips I literally ram into her, to the point where the sound of my thighs colliding with her ass sounds like someone being slapped.

I fuck her like I’ve never fucked a woman before. There is no technique, no concern for anything but getting off. I am vaguely aware at some point of her cunt tightening around me, but even then I continue pumping until I feel my orgasm welling within me.

As it pours forth inside her I cry out and only then do I remember my surroundings. Again and again as I endure this prolonged ejaculation I pound into her until I am completely spent. Then I stand there for a few moments. She is bent over the table, panting, quaking. My cock is twitching inside her and with each twitch a soft sigh escapes her lips.

At last, I release my grip on her hips, momentarily ashamed to have left small marks, as I pulled out of her. She stands, straightens her skirt, and then turns to me as I pull up and re-fasten my pants.

Before I can apologize for the bruises, she kisses me. This time it is gentle, her tongue caressing mine, allowing me entry into her mouth, her arms coming to rest around my shoulders while I, again, hold her hips, but delicately this time. Her lips mold to mine and, for a brief moment, we kiss like a couple in love. When we break the kiss she smiles.

“That was amazing. I can’t wait to see what’s next.”

* * *

When I arrived home, I was once again struck by the dread of discovery. But again, my wife detected nothing amiss. Again, I kissed her and again I made love to her as if for the very first time.

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