Second Honeymoon without Husband
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Second Honeymoon Chapter 1 free porn video
Friday, 7:30 PM to Saturday 10:30 AM.
I am retired but still quite active. Most gain a few inches/pounds; I actually lost thirty pounds after I quit working. I am fit, healthy, sexually excitable and sexually exciting. The last part is true, especially after what happened a few days ago.
As I write this, my husband is out on a manufactured journey. Manufactured or contrived? Semantics don't matter. We are apart to sort out the past few days. This chapter tells my story from the time I met Rex until the following morning, when I went back for more.
Friday, 7:30 PM. The Beginning
We don't go out as much as we should. Few couples do, and we had fallen into the rut of TV news, Jeopardy, one or two series (taped or live), more wine than we should drink, then bed. Friday evening, though, we had tickets to political meeting/art show/fund raiser at a church. Temperatures had been close to triple digits (F) for days and Mother Nature was venting her fury in the form of violent thunderstorms, with high winds and golf ball size hail. We soldiered on anyway.
The rain slacked somewhat as we got into town. Karl insisted on not paying for parking, so we left the car blocks away and made a run for it, to the church. I was a bit wet and a larger bit grumpy by the time we arrived.
We had our complimentary cocktails and settled in at the arranged tables. A few minutes into the musicians' gig, Karl went for another drink.
A man of about my age came up and asked, “Can I buy you another drink?”
Karl could not come to my rescue fast enough. I said, “Okay, I’ll have one.”
The guy appeared ten seconds later with a replacement glass of white wine. He must have noticed what I was having and had already gotten my favorite. Sweet!
We tried chit-chat for a few minutes, over the hubbub. His name was Rex. He commented that musicians were young and had a lot to learn about performing. I told him it was a benefit and they were not being paid.
He pointed to a couple of young girls eying the boys. “They’ll get paid, don’t worry.”
Rex continued, “This place is so noisy and I can’t hear too well. Would you mind stepping into the anteroom to talk?”
How could I refuse?
The doors were closed and we took advantage of the opportunity to talk without shouting. How much of an opportunity, I would find out soon enough.
He was way taller than me; nattily dressed in tan khaki slacks and an Oxford shirt, boat shoes, no socks. While we talked, he did not face me full on, but rather turned his body a bit sideways. I think he didn't want to come on too strong. I felt him gazing at me: my hips, my tits, and my hair.
Rex smiled easily and tried to get closer every time I would explain this or that about myself or my life. He seemed genuinely fascinated by my former legal career. He touched me every time he felt like he wanted to ask a question about case law. Later, he told me he wanted to collect more of my aura, my aroma and my spirit.
Rex was a widower, in town for a conference starting Monday. He got bored in the hotel and took a walk, ending up here. I learned he was the president of his organization and an authority on his craft.
He sounded bashful, saying, “I will be giving the keynote address.”
His company was so appreciative of his skills that they gave him a few days off prior to the meeting. He was polishing the talk and settling himself in at his hotel when he decided to take a walk.
Rex was staying at our city’s swankiest place, four blocks from where we were.
Rex complimented me not on my weight loss, but how easily I moved. He asked about my marriage, my love life; if we slowed down at all, yet.
“My husband Karl is retired, older than me and not in as good a shape as I am.”
"Hmmm. I have my answer."
“I have never been unfaithful to my husband,” I protested.
Rex thought for a moment, then said, “But you like sex?”
“Yes, of course I like sex.”
Rex asked a bold question, “Don’t you wish there were more romance in your life?”
I thought but did not say, “Karl changed from the guy I married so long ago.” Decades ago, he would have been red with jealousy if I had engaged a stranger in this type of conversation.
My mind wandered. Rex seemed comfortable with the gaps in our talk. Nowadays, in bed, (pillow talk, really) Karl and I had fanaticized about me sleeping with someone else. I had been a virgin when we met; he was older, more experienced and had slept with several women. Once, after some good smoke and a lot to drink, Karl actually told me he would like to watch me fuck someone else! I did not tell Rex that!
In no time it was intermission. We knew we had skipped the opening part and needed to return to the auction. We had to 'swim upstream' against the tide of people moving outside for fresh air or a smoke.
Where was Karl? Would he be upset? I tried to rush inside, leaving Rex behind.
Rex followed me with his hand gently on my backside for support. I had almost made it inside when a giant of a woman ran right into me. I tittered backward and Rex caught me, but his hand, previously resting on my butt, went straight for the gap between my cheeks. His fingers almost touched my pussy and I loved it!
We got inside and there was my husband, waiting. I apologized and introduced Rex to Karl. They shook hands warily but neither caused a scene.
Rex knew how to talk to women, but he knew how to charm the gents as well. He had Karl talking about fishing, the historical areas around, politics and even whiskeys. Rex owns a vintage MGB convertible, the same model year as ours. I guffawed when they learned that each had their MG’s painted the same color: British Racing Green. Karl hung on every word of Rex’s insights into restoration. Rex got a lecture on our local heritage.
We three chatted until the show was about to continue.
Instead of staying for more of the show and auction, Rex invited us back to his hotel bar for a nightcap. “It’s early still and I’m not ready for a lecture or a bed.”
Neither my husband nor I was sure what to say. I guess the liquor did the talking, because we agreed. Our car was six or seven blocks one way, the hotel four the other. Karl would go back and get our car; Rex gave him the parking garage card that was previously useless. My new guy and I would walk back and my husband would join us at the bar.
We held hands as we walked. He helped me over some puddles. We spoke in hushed tones, secretly sharing our feelings. I made a comment about being picked up by a stranger. He responded that he had never picked up a 'lady of the night' before.
I protested with faux anger, "I'm not a lady of the night."
"But can you kiss like one? Give it a try." The embrace lingered longer than I thought it should, just flirting. He pushed his tongue into my mouth. I took it and did a sucking thing like I do with Karl's tongue, pretending it was his dick.
"You could be a whore if you wanted. You are good at kissing and listening," Rex said.
We walked on. I told him I had never slept with another guy.
Tonight was closer than I had ever gotten.
For a while, I thought I was on a job interview to be a lady-of –the-night. We chatted about our sexual experiences. Yes, Karl and I watched porn, but I only liked the ones with a plot. No, I had never seen an uncut penis but for clinical purposes, I would be curious. Yes, I shaved 'down there'.
I may have gone too far, exposed myself too much. “Karl and I toyed with the pillow talk idea of a threesome, but we would never act on it.”
He understood. "Lots of guys imagine their wives playing around. It is a turn-on for both spouses. Each gets something out of the fresh relationship."
Rex had allowed his wife several dalliances and it made their marriage even stronger. It was not love, not exactly lust, just the intense feeling of making someone else cum. He was using language that was getting rougher.
The hotel bar was crowded.
“Thursdays and Friday nights are the busiest for these hotel bars. Conventioneers are done with their business and bags are packed for the flight home in the morning,” Rex explained. “For those out-of-towners looking for romance, this was the last chance to find it.”
We found a small table in the back, enough for two persons, three drinks and a bowl of pretzels.
Karl arrived, found us in our corner. Karl had to find a vacant chair and bring it back to our space. I kept my seat and Rex did too, so Karl sat close of us. Rex had already ordered a whiskey for Karl and then another, so two very expensive whiskeys were waiting. That calmed him down. We three spoke like old friends. I admit I enjoyed the attention of two men, competing for my attention.
Rex was first to excuse himself to the rest room. When he was out of earshot, I told my husband what a great time I was having.
"Do you want it to go further?" he asked. That premium whiskey must have gone straight to his powers of reasoning.
I was aghast! Then I thought about it: Rex had been touching me all evening, making suggestive comments, inquiring as to my life and routine. Anything was possible tonight.
My husband had started such talk months ago. Was this the night?
“If anything does happen, will you tell me about it?” Karl asked.
The ball was in my court.
When Rex came back, Karl excused himself. Again, he was gone much too long.
Rex took over, cuddling me and whispering into my ear. He got closer and I let him touch me a bit. He whispered in my ear, “We might carry this upstairs, to my room, if Karl says okay.”
Rex might have gotten slapped in the face, but he didn’t. Karl was tipsy when he returned and I suspect he might have gotten some liquid courage on his own.
I was game, so I started flirting with Rex even more openly, but was coy with Karl as well. The plan worked. I had not felt so alive in years. I was making out, being petted, teased, and hugged that night, in front of my approving husband. Trite to say 'electric', but we were all three charged up!
Rex looked Karl in the eye and said, “You are a very lucky guy. Few men have such beautiful, intelligent, lively spouses.”
I didn’t know what Karl would say.
Rex persisted, “I would like to borrow your wife for a while, if you didn’t mind.”
Karl looked at me, looked at Rex, and hesitated seconds, seconds.
Then Karl said, “This might be the chance of a lifetime. Go for it.”
The deal was done! Rex and I rose. Karl stayed seated.
We separated. Rex and I got on the elevator; Karl stayed at the bar to finish his drinks. We agreed I would find Karl later, either at the bar or in the car in the parking lot.
Two AM had come and gone before we got home.
Saturday morning, 8:45 AM.
The summer weather pattern where we live is predictable: five to seven days of beastly hot, humid air, then awful thunderstorms like last night. A merciful respite of low 80's, breezy weather follows: the best of summer days.
He slept late. I was up first, actually at dawn. I slipped out of bed and wrote this to Karl.
Dear Karl,
I love you now and will always love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.
Thank you for letting me have last night. You wanted to know what happened. This is what happened.
Unlike Lot's wife, I did not look back as Rex and I walked out of the bar. I had a feeling of de-ja vu from fighting upstream at the theatre intermission. Again, Rex steered me with his palm on my butt. I'll tell you about the obnoxious woman later. This time Rex intentionally but slightly inserted his palm into my cheeks. After we got on the elevator, he immediately began to kiss the back of my neck. I melted. Another couple got on at the next floor.
They asked if we were on our honeymoon. I said, "Second honeymoon."
Sorry, dear; it just seemed like a cute thing to say, given the circumstances! Lol!
He opened the door to his room, took the DO NOT DISTURB sign and hung it outside. Then he double-locked the door. It occurred to me that Rex had removed the parking garage card from its sheath (Gawd, now there is a metaphor to break the mood) before handing it to you. So Karl, you could not have found us, even if you tried!
Rex did not have a room; he had a suite, on the top floor. He asked a favor. He wanted to keep my panties. I had taken them off while we were sitting at the table in the bar. All you saw was my kind-of twisting while we talked.
Rex had whispered, “Take off your panties and give them to me.’
I took off my G-string undies and passed them to him. I handed them to him under the table secretly, like a teenager would pass a note in class. Rex held on to them while we three talked. He sniffed them right under your nose. He actually had to swap hands to shake hands good bye. So sensitive to the feelings of others!
In the living room, I felt like we were on a first date, with the sexual experimenting. He sat; I stood still. It was awkward. Rex asked if I needed anything. He meant a drink or snack from the mini-bar.
I immediately said, "Yes, I need to use the bathroom." I had not peed or anything else, even freshened up, since leaving the church.
While I was on my way to the bathroom, Rex told me, no, ordered me, “Do not take off any of your clothes until you return.”
I realized someone had to be in control. It was him.
When I got back to the sitting room, he had poured two glasses of Pellegrino water. I was so glad he didn't try to ply me with alcohol. Ever the gentleman! He approached me from behind.
My host asked, “How long it had been since someone undressed you?”
”Karl helps me sometimes,” I said.
Rex was getting more stern. "No, no. How long since you've been totally disrobed by a suitor?"
He told me I deserved a kiss for each button. He moved in behind me. The small jacket came first. Two buttons, two kisses. Each lingered a long time, one on each side of my neck, starting just below the earlobe and continuing to the blouse collar. The blouse has seven buttons. This meant two ear kisses, him still standing behind me; two shoulder kisses, two spots just behind my armpit got not only kissed but bitten. I never knew that part of my body would be so sensitive. The nape of my neck got a kiss, a bite, and a gentle rub with both of his thumbs.
I was amazed at how deftly he loosened my bra and in the same motion, turned me around to face him. My tits were just out there, the areola getting redder by the second.
He bent down to kiss my right one and I said, "No!"
Rex looked confused, then a smile started at the corner of his mouth and he understood.
"More buttons needed, sir, before I can allow you to continue kissing."
He smiled and knelt before me. He took off my shoes; sorry, no buttons. My skirt had one button, on the side. That finished my disrobing. He went back to my titties. He spread his thumb and forefinger across the white part, a little off the nipple. He spread the skin a lot more and my nipple flattened out. Wow! That exposed my already sensitive nerve tips even more. He licked it, pulled it with his lips and nibbled. He could tell when one breast had had enough. The other breast got similar treatment. Both hands then on one tit: large left hand around the base, the fingers of the right, pulling at the nipple, squeezing/twisting my most sensitive nipple.
He looked up from my breasts and said, “I am going to mark you now.”
He lifted my left tit, nuzzled it and then sucked hard on the exposed, tender skin. I knew I was getting the first hickey in over thirty years.
“You do want another, for balance?” he whispered.
I moaned, “Yeah, do my other one.”
Then onto his knees, where he took his time.
He stayed down there, put his cheek against my belly and started to stroke my right side, from beltline down to knee. Then came the tongue, across my belly, about where the hair would have grown. Back and forth, back and forth as his fingertips stroked my left upper leg. His tongue and his fingers reached my pussy at about the same time.
No one had ever been that good; never have I felt so stimulated. He lubricated his fingers and his mouth salivated on the hood of my clitoris. He was finger- fucking my pussy. I had to stop; we had to stop. He understood.
Karl, you say that I should reciprocate when we do things to each other. We adjourned to the bedroom, with its king-size bed, beautiful mountain view, curtains open to the breeze and a man I was going to fuck. Sorry, but I remember no details about the next few minutes. I did the same unbuttoning routine for him, button for button, for kiss for kiss. Anatomically, uncut men are different: aroma, appearance, allure. I like them.
Rex is big, really big. How big? A couple of hours later, just before our last tryst, had we found a ruler in the room, I would have measured him. I am not a tiny lady, but no Amazon either. Could that thing really fit inside me? The girth of his dick was almost as thick as my wrist, long enough to get both hands on it (not around it; too thick, again) and still be able to see the lump of a dickhead beneath its cover. Friends in college called him Beer Can, for obvious reasons.
I pulled down on that snake with both hands and the head appeared, bright red and leaking pre-cum already. I pulled back with both hands. Rough, dry, needing lubrication. He told me to spit on my hands, rub them together and then try again. It worked. Next time, I collected pre-cum and mixed that in. Next time, I got a good bit of moisture in my mouth and licked the tip, then put the whole head in my mouth. I was rewarded with the taste of more pre-cum.
His whole dick tasted different, muskier, more masculine than yours. I had always insisted on being squeaky clean before you go down on me and I insisted you do the same. Rex's dick and balls had been in his pants for hours. I didn't mind at all. The aroma of his thick hair, large balls, and a hint of something else gave me courage to try to deep throat him.
I could get the head into my mouth and some of the shaft, but no more. I concentrated on technique. I licked his balls, then his shaft from base to tip. Then popped the head into my mouth, wrapped my lips around the tip, flicked the bottom of his dick with my tongue and rubbed my lips back and forth over the ridge of his enormous bulb. When you go to the gym to work out, trainers say that you should do ten reps (repetitions) to be effective. I took their advice and did at least ten trips from near his asshole to the bulb and back.
We were ready. He took me missionary style and I watched that shaft disappear slowly into my body. Inside me a little ways, then slowly out. He withdrew completely and rubbed the tip atop my hood. Then he pushed my hood up with his dick and rubbed my clit.
"Tell me to put it back in." I did. I begged; I could not exist without it.
No one mentioned ladies of the night. Instead, he called me his whore, his married slut wife, his fucking property.
“I now own this cunt. Tell me I own this pussy forever.”
I had to tell him it belonged to him and only him. If I didn't say it, he wasn't going to stick his long, fat pole into me.
He did this "Tell me" stuff twice more. I complied twice more. Then I started fucking him. He raised up a bit and I moved my pelvis up and down, up and down, jerking him off with my cunt. Rex was not a porn star; he lasted less than ten minutes, maybe a dozen more strokes and he was cumming, cumming, cumming. My pussy was on fire. Our juices spurted, flowed, mingled. Suddenly, I could not stop. We flipped over and I mounted him. He was still hard as a rock and I took him, mastered him, controlled him until I could not cum any longer. We lay there, panting, sweating.
Now it was his turn to use the bathroom. I just lay there. When he returned, it was with a warm washcloth to clean me up. We finished our Pellegrino and cuddled.
I told him I wanted to study his uncircumcised dick. He said he wanted to inspect my private parts as well. I got on top of him and realized just how 69 was done right. The veins on his dick were large, the skin so smooth, the colors a panorama of light skin tone to dark, suntanned shaft. I pulled back on the sheath and saw the purple head. The balls moved by themselves.
Rex's inspection garnered questions of his own, about lady-parts in general. He said he knew that women's outer lips were sensitive, but the inner ones more so. He experimented. He used his lips to pull at one outer, then the other. He said I was getting redder. No shit! Then the inner lips, redder still, I knew. Then he tongued my vaginal opening, circling the opening. He used his fingers to hold me open and pushed the hood of my clitoris up.
When his lips touched my clit, I exploded. He was hard again too.
As Rex stood in front of me, ready to impregnate me again, I marveled at how long and big and thick a man can be. I had been able to accept that thing into my pussy all the way to the base and felt those balls rubbing against my asshole! He had poked and stroked me to orgasm. I wanted more.
Rex got back on top of me. The second fuck was languid, purposeful, as though his long, thick dick was having a conversation with my pussy. In and out, to one side then the other, way deep, then just at my opening. My pussy talked to his dick as well, agreeing on certain moves, not acknowledging others, more probing, an intense discussion. His hands assisted his dick head by grabbing my titties, squeezing them, pinching my nipples, kneading them. Then those paws attacked the cheeks of my ass, lifting me up off the mattress. That made the pussy/cock talk become a violent debate as each of our genitals tried to outshout the other.
Later we debated who was the loudest. I took first prize for volume and conceded length of scream to Rex.
I had to leave the hotel, get back to you, my husband. Rex wanted me to spend the night. Of course, I didn’t. I left and found you drinking coffee in the bar.
Thank you for letting me do this,
Love.
Rex has never seen me sans makeup and probably never will.
I said, “I can’t keep Karl waiting forever.” I put the DO NOT DISTURB sign in my purse as a souvenir.
Rex was not insensitive, actually practical, when he said, “Our hotel time (a little over three hours) will give Karl enough time to have the alcohol run through his system.”
Our evening did not end in a DUI. So thoughtful of Rex to consider Karl's well-being.
Spooky, to say the least. I got a cell phone call Saturday morning. I didn't even know Rex had my number. Well, in a way, he 'had my number'. He wanted to see me again. I could tell he was smitten.
He thanked me for such a wonderful evening. He wanted to know if the green MG convertible story was true. If so, he wanted to see it. I was to pick him up at the hotel at 11 A.M.
"Just tell Karl what you are going to do. Tell him to check out the car. Make sure you find something that needs done to it first, even if the car is in show-room condition.”
Rex said I must start taking control of my romancing, follow my desires. “Let Karl know that there is a new man in town. You are going to fuck him and be fucked by him.”
“Have Karl ready the MG for you. Tell him we will have a surprise for him when we get back Sunday evening." Rex was bold, brazen, demanding. I loved it.
I still love Karl (of course), but Rex brought out the naughty side of me. It was that submissive side I wanted to show off.
Karl and I had no chance to talk about last night. He would find the long letter I wrote him. It took Karl longer to sober up and think straight after drinking like he had last night. All told, I had consumed two wines at the theatre and two more at the bar, one drink per hour for four hours. So after a night of moderate drinking and wildly satisfying sex, I felt pretty good. I felt no hangover, no remorse, no guilt.
I woke my husband up with a kiss, a coffee and his marching orders. I told Karl I was taking Rex on a tour. “Gas up the MG, check the oil, wash it and be back by 10:30.”
Karl did as he was told! If Karl had taken a stand, I would have backed down, but he didn't.
I was off for a Saturday drive in the country, a rendezvous, and a night of being fucked senseless. Sunday would be another day.
I was just out of the neighborhood when my phone rang: Home. So Karl was growing a set of balls.
Too late! I would quickly disabuse him of his thoughts of calling me back. "So I am the one who lost touch of reality? Listen, last night, at the bar, you gave us your okay. You offered me a sip of your beer. I told you guys I never liked the taste of it. Rex asked me if I liked wine and I said yes. We started to talk about the movie Sideways, when you cut in to praise India Pale Ale! You just don't listen. Read my letter. We will be home tomorrow, I promise."
I am retired but still quite active. Most gain a few inches/pounds; I actually lost thirty pounds after I quit working. I am fit, healthy, sexually excitable and sexually exciting. The last part is true, especially after what happened a few days ago.
As I write this, my husband is out on a manufactured journey. Manufactured or contrived? Semantics don't matter. We are apart to sort out the past few days. This chapter tells my story from the time I met Rex until the following morning, when I went back for more.
Friday, 7:30 PM. The Beginning
We don't go out as much as we should. Few couples do, and we had fallen into the rut of TV news, Jeopardy, one or two series (taped or live), more wine than we should drink, then bed. Friday evening, though, we had tickets to political meeting/art show/fund raiser at a church. Temperatures had been close to triple digits (F) for days and Mother Nature was venting her fury in the form of violent thunderstorms, with high winds and golf ball size hail. We soldiered on anyway.
The rain slacked somewhat as we got into town. Karl insisted on not paying for parking, so we left the car blocks away and made a run for it, to the church. I was a bit wet and a larger bit grumpy by the time we arrived.
We had our complimentary cocktails and settled in at the arranged tables. A few minutes into the musicians' gig, Karl went for another drink.
A man of about my age came up and asked, “Can I buy you another drink?”
Karl could not come to my rescue fast enough. I said, “Okay, I’ll have one.”
The guy appeared ten seconds later with a replacement glass of white wine. He must have noticed what I was having and had already gotten my favorite. Sweet!
We tried chit-chat for a few minutes, over the hubbub. His name was Rex. He commented that musicians were young and had a lot to learn about performing. I told him it was a benefit and they were not being paid.
He pointed to a couple of young girls eying the boys. “They’ll get paid, don’t worry.”
Rex continued, “This place is so noisy and I can’t hear too well. Would you mind stepping into the anteroom to talk?”
How could I refuse?
The doors were closed and we took advantage of the opportunity to talk without shouting. How much of an opportunity, I would find out soon enough.
He was way taller than me; nattily dressed in tan khaki slacks and an Oxford shirt, boat shoes, no socks. While we talked, he did not face me full on, but rather turned his body a bit sideways. I think he didn't want to come on too strong. I felt him gazing at me: my hips, my tits, and my hair.
Rex smiled easily and tried to get closer every time I would explain this or that about myself or my life. He seemed genuinely fascinated by my former legal career. He touched me every time he felt like he wanted to ask a question about case law. Later, he told me he wanted to collect more of my aura, my aroma and my spirit.
Rex was a widower, in town for a conference starting Monday. He got bored in the hotel and took a walk, ending up here. I learned he was the president of his organization and an authority on his craft.
He sounded bashful, saying, “I will be giving the keynote address.”
His company was so appreciative of his skills that they gave him a few days off prior to the meeting. He was polishing the talk and settling himself in at his hotel when he decided to take a walk.
Rex was staying at our city’s swankiest place, four blocks from where we were.
Rex complimented me not on my weight loss, but how easily I moved. He asked about my marriage, my love life; if we slowed down at all, yet.
“My husband Karl is retired, older than me and not in as good a shape as I am.”
"Hmmm. I have my answer."
“I have never been unfaithful to my husband,” I protested.
Rex thought for a moment, then said, “But you like sex?”
“Yes, of course I like sex.”
Rex asked a bold question, “Don’t you wish there were more romance in your life?”
I thought but did not say, “Karl changed from the guy I married so long ago.” Decades ago, he would have been red with jealousy if I had engaged a stranger in this type of conversation.
My mind wandered. Rex seemed comfortable with the gaps in our talk. Nowadays, in bed, (pillow talk, really) Karl and I had fanaticized about me sleeping with someone else. I had been a virgin when we met; he was older, more experienced and had slept with several women. Once, after some good smoke and a lot to drink, Karl actually told me he would like to watch me fuck someone else! I did not tell Rex that!
In no time it was intermission. We knew we had skipped the opening part and needed to return to the auction. We had to 'swim upstream' against the tide of people moving outside for fresh air or a smoke.
Where was Karl? Would he be upset? I tried to rush inside, leaving Rex behind.
Rex followed me with his hand gently on my backside for support. I had almost made it inside when a giant of a woman ran right into me. I tittered backward and Rex caught me, but his hand, previously resting on my butt, went straight for the gap between my cheeks. His fingers almost touched my pussy and I loved it!
We got inside and there was my husband, waiting. I apologized and introduced Rex to Karl. They shook hands warily but neither caused a scene.
Rex knew how to talk to women, but he knew how to charm the gents as well. He had Karl talking about fishing, the historical areas around, politics and even whiskeys. Rex owns a vintage MGB convertible, the same model year as ours. I guffawed when they learned that each had their MG’s painted the same color: British Racing Green. Karl hung on every word of Rex’s insights into restoration. Rex got a lecture on our local heritage.
We three chatted until the show was about to continue.
Instead of staying for more of the show and auction, Rex invited us back to his hotel bar for a nightcap. “It’s early still and I’m not ready for a lecture or a bed.”
Neither my husband nor I was sure what to say. I guess the liquor did the talking, because we agreed. Our car was six or seven blocks one way, the hotel four the other. Karl would go back and get our car; Rex gave him the parking garage card that was previously useless. My new guy and I would walk back and my husband would join us at the bar.
We held hands as we walked. He helped me over some puddles. We spoke in hushed tones, secretly sharing our feelings. I made a comment about being picked up by a stranger. He responded that he had never picked up a 'lady of the night' before.
I protested with faux anger, "I'm not a lady of the night."
"But can you kiss like one? Give it a try." The embrace lingered longer than I thought it should, just flirting. He pushed his tongue into my mouth. I took it and did a sucking thing like I do with Karl's tongue, pretending it was his dick.
"You could be a whore if you wanted. You are good at kissing and listening," Rex said.
We walked on. I told him I had never slept with another guy.
Tonight was closer than I had ever gotten.
For a while, I thought I was on a job interview to be a lady-of –the-night. We chatted about our sexual experiences. Yes, Karl and I watched porn, but I only liked the ones with a plot. No, I had never seen an uncut penis but for clinical purposes, I would be curious. Yes, I shaved 'down there'.
I may have gone too far, exposed myself too much. “Karl and I toyed with the pillow talk idea of a threesome, but we would never act on it.”
He understood. "Lots of guys imagine their wives playing around. It is a turn-on for both spouses. Each gets something out of the fresh relationship."
Rex had allowed his wife several dalliances and it made their marriage even stronger. It was not love, not exactly lust, just the intense feeling of making someone else cum. He was using language that was getting rougher.
The hotel bar was crowded.
“Thursdays and Friday nights are the busiest for these hotel bars. Conventioneers are done with their business and bags are packed for the flight home in the morning,” Rex explained. “For those out-of-towners looking for romance, this was the last chance to find it.”
We found a small table in the back, enough for two persons, three drinks and a bowl of pretzels.
Karl arrived, found us in our corner. Karl had to find a vacant chair and bring it back to our space. I kept my seat and Rex did too, so Karl sat close of us. Rex had already ordered a whiskey for Karl and then another, so two very expensive whiskeys were waiting. That calmed him down. We three spoke like old friends. I admit I enjoyed the attention of two men, competing for my attention.
Rex was first to excuse himself to the rest room. When he was out of earshot, I told my husband what a great time I was having.
"Do you want it to go further?" he asked. That premium whiskey must have gone straight to his powers of reasoning.
I was aghast! Then I thought about it: Rex had been touching me all evening, making suggestive comments, inquiring as to my life and routine. Anything was possible tonight.
My husband had started such talk months ago. Was this the night?
“If anything does happen, will you tell me about it?” Karl asked.
The ball was in my court.
When Rex came back, Karl excused himself. Again, he was gone much too long.
Rex took over, cuddling me and whispering into my ear. He got closer and I let him touch me a bit. He whispered in my ear, “We might carry this upstairs, to my room, if Karl says okay.”
Rex might have gotten slapped in the face, but he didn’t. Karl was tipsy when he returned and I suspect he might have gotten some liquid courage on his own.
I was game, so I started flirting with Rex even more openly, but was coy with Karl as well. The plan worked. I had not felt so alive in years. I was making out, being petted, teased, and hugged that night, in front of my approving husband. Trite to say 'electric', but we were all three charged up!
Rex looked Karl in the eye and said, “You are a very lucky guy. Few men have such beautiful, intelligent, lively spouses.”
I didn’t know what Karl would say.
Rex persisted, “I would like to borrow your wife for a while, if you didn’t mind.”
Karl looked at me, looked at Rex, and hesitated seconds, seconds.
Then Karl said, “This might be the chance of a lifetime. Go for it.”
The deal was done! Rex and I rose. Karl stayed seated.
We separated. Rex and I got on the elevator; Karl stayed at the bar to finish his drinks. We agreed I would find Karl later, either at the bar or in the car in the parking lot.
Two AM had come and gone before we got home.
Saturday morning, 8:45 AM.
The summer weather pattern where we live is predictable: five to seven days of beastly hot, humid air, then awful thunderstorms like last night. A merciful respite of low 80's, breezy weather follows: the best of summer days.
He slept late. I was up first, actually at dawn. I slipped out of bed and wrote this to Karl.
Dear Karl,
I love you now and will always love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.
Thank you for letting me have last night. You wanted to know what happened. This is what happened.
Unlike Lot's wife, I did not look back as Rex and I walked out of the bar. I had a feeling of de-ja vu from fighting upstream at the theatre intermission. Again, Rex steered me with his palm on my butt. I'll tell you about the obnoxious woman later. This time Rex intentionally but slightly inserted his palm into my cheeks. After we got on the elevator, he immediately began to kiss the back of my neck. I melted. Another couple got on at the next floor.
They asked if we were on our honeymoon. I said, "Second honeymoon."
Sorry, dear; it just seemed like a cute thing to say, given the circumstances! Lol!
He opened the door to his room, took the DO NOT DISTURB sign and hung it outside. Then he double-locked the door. It occurred to me that Rex had removed the parking garage card from its sheath (Gawd, now there is a metaphor to break the mood) before handing it to you. So Karl, you could not have found us, even if you tried!
Rex did not have a room; he had a suite, on the top floor. He asked a favor. He wanted to keep my panties. I had taken them off while we were sitting at the table in the bar. All you saw was my kind-of twisting while we talked.
Rex had whispered, “Take off your panties and give them to me.’
I took off my G-string undies and passed them to him. I handed them to him under the table secretly, like a teenager would pass a note in class. Rex held on to them while we three talked. He sniffed them right under your nose. He actually had to swap hands to shake hands good bye. So sensitive to the feelings of others!
In the living room, I felt like we were on a first date, with the sexual experimenting. He sat; I stood still. It was awkward. Rex asked if I needed anything. He meant a drink or snack from the mini-bar.
I immediately said, "Yes, I need to use the bathroom." I had not peed or anything else, even freshened up, since leaving the church.
While I was on my way to the bathroom, Rex told me, no, ordered me, “Do not take off any of your clothes until you return.”
I realized someone had to be in control. It was him.
When I got back to the sitting room, he had poured two glasses of Pellegrino water. I was so glad he didn't try to ply me with alcohol. Ever the gentleman! He approached me from behind.
My host asked, “How long it had been since someone undressed you?”
”Karl helps me sometimes,” I said.
Rex was getting more stern. "No, no. How long since you've been totally disrobed by a suitor?"
He told me I deserved a kiss for each button. He moved in behind me. The small jacket came first. Two buttons, two kisses. Each lingered a long time, one on each side of my neck, starting just below the earlobe and continuing to the blouse collar. The blouse has seven buttons. This meant two ear kisses, him still standing behind me; two shoulder kisses, two spots just behind my armpit got not only kissed but bitten. I never knew that part of my body would be so sensitive. The nape of my neck got a kiss, a bite, and a gentle rub with both of his thumbs.
I was amazed at how deftly he loosened my bra and in the same motion, turned me around to face him. My tits were just out there, the areola getting redder by the second.
He bent down to kiss my right one and I said, "No!"
Rex looked confused, then a smile started at the corner of his mouth and he understood.
"More buttons needed, sir, before I can allow you to continue kissing."
He smiled and knelt before me. He took off my shoes; sorry, no buttons. My skirt had one button, on the side. That finished my disrobing. He went back to my titties. He spread his thumb and forefinger across the white part, a little off the nipple. He spread the skin a lot more and my nipple flattened out. Wow! That exposed my already sensitive nerve tips even more. He licked it, pulled it with his lips and nibbled. He could tell when one breast had had enough. The other breast got similar treatment. Both hands then on one tit: large left hand around the base, the fingers of the right, pulling at the nipple, squeezing/twisting my most sensitive nipple.
He looked up from my breasts and said, “I am going to mark you now.”
He lifted my left tit, nuzzled it and then sucked hard on the exposed, tender skin. I knew I was getting the first hickey in over thirty years.
“You do want another, for balance?” he whispered.
I moaned, “Yeah, do my other one.”
Then onto his knees, where he took his time.
He stayed down there, put his cheek against my belly and started to stroke my right side, from beltline down to knee. Then came the tongue, across my belly, about where the hair would have grown. Back and forth, back and forth as his fingertips stroked my left upper leg. His tongue and his fingers reached my pussy at about the same time.
No one had ever been that good; never have I felt so stimulated. He lubricated his fingers and his mouth salivated on the hood of my clitoris. He was finger- fucking my pussy. I had to stop; we had to stop. He understood.
Karl, you say that I should reciprocate when we do things to each other. We adjourned to the bedroom, with its king-size bed, beautiful mountain view, curtains open to the breeze and a man I was going to fuck. Sorry, but I remember no details about the next few minutes. I did the same unbuttoning routine for him, button for button, for kiss for kiss. Anatomically, uncut men are different: aroma, appearance, allure. I like them.
Rex is big, really big. How big? A couple of hours later, just before our last tryst, had we found a ruler in the room, I would have measured him. I am not a tiny lady, but no Amazon either. Could that thing really fit inside me? The girth of his dick was almost as thick as my wrist, long enough to get both hands on it (not around it; too thick, again) and still be able to see the lump of a dickhead beneath its cover. Friends in college called him Beer Can, for obvious reasons.
I pulled down on that snake with both hands and the head appeared, bright red and leaking pre-cum already. I pulled back with both hands. Rough, dry, needing lubrication. He told me to spit on my hands, rub them together and then try again. It worked. Next time, I collected pre-cum and mixed that in. Next time, I got a good bit of moisture in my mouth and licked the tip, then put the whole head in my mouth. I was rewarded with the taste of more pre-cum.
His whole dick tasted different, muskier, more masculine than yours. I had always insisted on being squeaky clean before you go down on me and I insisted you do the same. Rex's dick and balls had been in his pants for hours. I didn't mind at all. The aroma of his thick hair, large balls, and a hint of something else gave me courage to try to deep throat him.
I could get the head into my mouth and some of the shaft, but no more. I concentrated on technique. I licked his balls, then his shaft from base to tip. Then popped the head into my mouth, wrapped my lips around the tip, flicked the bottom of his dick with my tongue and rubbed my lips back and forth over the ridge of his enormous bulb. When you go to the gym to work out, trainers say that you should do ten reps (repetitions) to be effective. I took their advice and did at least ten trips from near his asshole to the bulb and back.
We were ready. He took me missionary style and I watched that shaft disappear slowly into my body. Inside me a little ways, then slowly out. He withdrew completely and rubbed the tip atop my hood. Then he pushed my hood up with his dick and rubbed my clit.
"Tell me to put it back in." I did. I begged; I could not exist without it.
No one mentioned ladies of the night. Instead, he called me his whore, his married slut wife, his fucking property.
“I now own this cunt. Tell me I own this pussy forever.”
I had to tell him it belonged to him and only him. If I didn't say it, he wasn't going to stick his long, fat pole into me.
He did this "Tell me" stuff twice more. I complied twice more. Then I started fucking him. He raised up a bit and I moved my pelvis up and down, up and down, jerking him off with my cunt. Rex was not a porn star; he lasted less than ten minutes, maybe a dozen more strokes and he was cumming, cumming, cumming. My pussy was on fire. Our juices spurted, flowed, mingled. Suddenly, I could not stop. We flipped over and I mounted him. He was still hard as a rock and I took him, mastered him, controlled him until I could not cum any longer. We lay there, panting, sweating.
Now it was his turn to use the bathroom. I just lay there. When he returned, it was with a warm washcloth to clean me up. We finished our Pellegrino and cuddled.
I told him I wanted to study his uncircumcised dick. He said he wanted to inspect my private parts as well. I got on top of him and realized just how 69 was done right. The veins on his dick were large, the skin so smooth, the colors a panorama of light skin tone to dark, suntanned shaft. I pulled back on the sheath and saw the purple head. The balls moved by themselves.
Rex's inspection garnered questions of his own, about lady-parts in general. He said he knew that women's outer lips were sensitive, but the inner ones more so. He experimented. He used his lips to pull at one outer, then the other. He said I was getting redder. No shit! Then the inner lips, redder still, I knew. Then he tongued my vaginal opening, circling the opening. He used his fingers to hold me open and pushed the hood of my clitoris up.
When his lips touched my clit, I exploded. He was hard again too.
As Rex stood in front of me, ready to impregnate me again, I marveled at how long and big and thick a man can be. I had been able to accept that thing into my pussy all the way to the base and felt those balls rubbing against my asshole! He had poked and stroked me to orgasm. I wanted more.
Rex got back on top of me. The second fuck was languid, purposeful, as though his long, thick dick was having a conversation with my pussy. In and out, to one side then the other, way deep, then just at my opening. My pussy talked to his dick as well, agreeing on certain moves, not acknowledging others, more probing, an intense discussion. His hands assisted his dick head by grabbing my titties, squeezing them, pinching my nipples, kneading them. Then those paws attacked the cheeks of my ass, lifting me up off the mattress. That made the pussy/cock talk become a violent debate as each of our genitals tried to outshout the other.
Later we debated who was the loudest. I took first prize for volume and conceded length of scream to Rex.
I had to leave the hotel, get back to you, my husband. Rex wanted me to spend the night. Of course, I didn’t. I left and found you drinking coffee in the bar.
Thank you for letting me do this,
Love.
Rex has never seen me sans makeup and probably never will.
I said, “I can’t keep Karl waiting forever.” I put the DO NOT DISTURB sign in my purse as a souvenir.
Rex was not insensitive, actually practical, when he said, “Our hotel time (a little over three hours) will give Karl enough time to have the alcohol run through his system.”
Our evening did not end in a DUI. So thoughtful of Rex to consider Karl's well-being.
Spooky, to say the least. I got a cell phone call Saturday morning. I didn't even know Rex had my number. Well, in a way, he 'had my number'. He wanted to see me again. I could tell he was smitten.
He thanked me for such a wonderful evening. He wanted to know if the green MG convertible story was true. If so, he wanted to see it. I was to pick him up at the hotel at 11 A.M.
"Just tell Karl what you are going to do. Tell him to check out the car. Make sure you find something that needs done to it first, even if the car is in show-room condition.”
Rex said I must start taking control of my romancing, follow my desires. “Let Karl know that there is a new man in town. You are going to fuck him and be fucked by him.”
“Have Karl ready the MG for you. Tell him we will have a surprise for him when we get back Sunday evening." Rex was bold, brazen, demanding. I loved it.
I still love Karl (of course), but Rex brought out the naughty side of me. It was that submissive side I wanted to show off.
Karl and I had no chance to talk about last night. He would find the long letter I wrote him. It took Karl longer to sober up and think straight after drinking like he had last night. All told, I had consumed two wines at the theatre and two more at the bar, one drink per hour for four hours. So after a night of moderate drinking and wildly satisfying sex, I felt pretty good. I felt no hangover, no remorse, no guilt.
I woke my husband up with a kiss, a coffee and his marching orders. I told Karl I was taking Rex on a tour. “Gas up the MG, check the oil, wash it and be back by 10:30.”
Karl did as he was told! If Karl had taken a stand, I would have backed down, but he didn't.
I was off for a Saturday drive in the country, a rendezvous, and a night of being fucked senseless. Sunday would be another day.
I was just out of the neighborhood when my phone rang: Home. So Karl was growing a set of balls.
Too late! I would quickly disabuse him of his thoughts of calling me back. "So I am the one who lost touch of reality? Listen, last night, at the bar, you gave us your okay. You offered me a sip of your beer. I told you guys I never liked the taste of it. Rex asked me if I liked wine and I said yes. We started to talk about the movie Sideways, when you cut in to praise India Pale Ale! You just don't listen. Read my letter. We will be home tomorrow, I promise."
Becky
- 03.11.2021
- 18
- 0
- Category:
- Cuckold
