Claire's Conception - Part free porn video

I think I fell in love with Claire the first time I saw her, standing with her team mates in her hockey kit in the queue for dinner in the refectory of our University Hall of Residence. Dark haired, athletically built and sporty, she seemed a long way out of my class. Despite being basically tall and good-looking myself – in great shape after many years playing rugby – there was something about her that I found different from other girls and, frankly, intimidating but I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

For many weeks I tried to find out more about her. To some extent I was lucky – no current boyfriend, no bad reputation etc – and I looked out for her around the block in which I knew she lived, making sure to go for my meals at times she would probably be there too. But, apart from quite literally running into her one evening as I sprinted around the corner of the refectory building, I felt unable even to approach her, going all tongue-tied and as awkward as a teenager – which I hadn’t been for nearly a year

But then came my big break! I accidentally discovered we had something in common. For the first and perhaps the only time in my life, being a half-lapsed Catholic was a big bonus.

On one of the two Sundays each term in which I felt compelled to go to Mass, to my astonishment I found myself sitting next to Claire in a pew towards the back of church. I had already sat down before I realised who my companion was and, when I looked across at her in her Sunday dress it took all my resolve not to panic and run away. But instead I smiled stupidly and said ‘Hi.’

To my relief, Claire recognised me from the Hall and smiled back, a fact that made me almost glow with pleasure, and after the interminably long service we stayed behind for the obligatory coffee and attempted fundraising. If anything she looked even more beautiful in her church clothes than in her hockey kit and, as we chatted and learned more about each other, I fell even more deeply in love.

The following week I went to mass again – most unusual for me - and made sure I sat next to her. This time after the service I asked if she would like to go to the cinema that evening. To my utter delight, almost without hesitation she said she would.

In such simple ways great romances begin.

We were both bright students, me studying Biochemistry, Claire studying English and History and we became an inseparable couple for the rest of our University career - no mean feat given student life these days - and were married soon after graduation in a big, traditional family celebration.

I know it sounds very unlikely, but up to our marriage day, we had both remained virgins. I can’t think of another couple I know who could (or would) admit that but in our case it’s true. To be honest, I have to say my own virgin status was not deliberate – before I fell in love with Claire I had gone to great lengths to try and lose my cherry but without success. Claire on the other hand, was and is utterly gorgeous and could have slept with any number of boys at school or University but being a ‘Good Catholic’ had determined to remain ‘pure’ until she had a husband and, despite my best efforts to get into her panties – a feat only my fingers and on a few memorable occasions my tongue achieved - she managed to keep her vow right up to our wedding night.

As a result of course, our first night on honeymoon was more than a little awkward – terrifying to be honest - but my God, it was worth the wait. After the first few clumsy short-lived penetrations and messy ejaculations we were like kids with a new toy and were seldom seen in the daylight throughout the whole two week holiday.

Claire in particular found she had – indeed still has – a very strong sex drive indeed. It lessened for a short while after the kids were born – more about that later - but returned with force and even today we make love in one way or another almost every day.

And so we began our life together, divinely blessed with extraordinary good luck.

The first good luck was that we were both offered good first jobs straight from University. My technical background got me onto the Graduate Training Scheme of a large Grocery Retail organisation. The intention was to join their product development team as a Technical Manager at the end of the two-year programme. For me, it was the perfect role. Claire was offered a place on a Teacher Training course, something she had wanted to do since early on in her schooldays. We were both delighted of course.

The second piece of luck was that both these jobs were based in or around London, which meant we were able to live together without the strain of long commutes and for a while things were going along swimmingly.

But life can’t be all good luck, can it?

The first unexpected problem was that Claire turned out to be extremely fertile and, with our highly active sex life, the inevitable quickly happened. Claire fell pregnant within three months. This was definitely an accident and not at all part of our life plan, but as a result of her devout Catholic upbringing, Claire had extremely strong views on birth control and abortion so our first daughter was born exactly one year after our wedding. This pleased our extended families no end but put paid to Claire’s part of our original life plans and she had to postpone her course.

Despite this setback – or perhaps because of it – her sex drive if anything increased with even more predictable consequences. Our son appeared less than eleven months after his sister and our second daughter a little more than ten months after that.

Three kids in three years? It is possible to have too many blessings!

This made our first few years together very hard, with Claire pregnant so much of the time, raising the babies on a single salary and me working long hours trying to get ahead, taking every opportunity that came my way to progress and earn more money to support my growing family.

Although it was very hard physically and financially and seemed to go on forever, eventually things began to improve. The kids grew older, were potty trained, could start going to nursery and, eventually, I started getting promotions at work.

It was around this time that I had my vasectomy.

Realising that I only had to smile at Claire to get her pregnant had forced her to re-think the whole Catholic birth-control ethos and she had gone on the pill. The babies stopped and we had at least a chance of sanity in our lives. However it wasn’t many months before her conscience got the better of her and we had a ‘long talk’. To be honest, at the time it wasn’t a tough decision for me – after all, we already had three kids – and it made Claire a lot less worried so one fine day I went into the local hospital for the morning and came out sterile and sore but content.

Also around that time I was promoted to a Senior R&D job at work that required me to visit most of the factories making products for the company, wherever in the world they were based. A huge increase in salary came with the promotion which was desperately needed, what with three small kids and high London prices, and it was a big step in the right direction for my career.

Unfortunately it also required me to travel abroad much more to deal with suppliers and factories in far-flung countries. Indeed a substantial part of the salary increase was designed to help compensate for me being away a lot more than before.

Often I'd go abroad for a week or maybe two, then come back for a week then leave again for another week or two while a project lasted. This would go on for a month or so then I would be based back in London until it all started up again somewhere else.

It wasn’t the best way to run my family life, but as I said, the salary was huge and we agreed it was worth it – at least for a few years while we paid down the mortgage. We were able to move to a bigger house right away, albeit in a less desirable area. We even had a spare bedroom!

We had also started talking about having more kids. As I explained, we both came from large Catholic families and, being a little isolated in London, both missed having so many relatives close by. Now that we could afford it without Claire working, having more was a financial possibility and we began to regret my vasectomy. I had started finding out about having it reversed but hadn’t gone ahead with it yet.

However, not everything was running smoothly. We hadn’t bargained on just how much strain my new working arrangements would put on our relationship.

The first and most obvious problem was of course that poor Claire had to bring up three kids on her own for more than half of the time. Their close ages and all the activities kids get up to when they go to school made this very hard work. She quickly became exhausted.

The second, surprisingly important strain was the pressure it put on our sex life. As I explained, Claire’s sex drive in particular was quite high and to both our surprise she found it difficult not having me in her bed and in her body most nights of the week, the lack of physical contact making her feel a bit alone and neglected. I of course felt the same, but you expect that from a man, don’t you?

We persevered but, after nearly a year of on-and-off travel, it was clear that our relationship was under quite a bit of strain. Bad tempered arguments over trivial things became commonplace and eventually our parents pressured us into at least talking to the Priest.

Father William, blessedly forward-looking in attitude, quickly spotted a potentially serious problem in his flock and referred us to a local marriage counsellor who we reluctantly agreed to see when I returned from my next overseas visit.

I had not been looking forward to the meeting but, to our joint surprise, the counsellor identified almost immediately that our ‘problems’ were more practical than relationship based and, working together, we tried to find solutions.

The sex issue was solved surprisingly easily in a way neither of us would have thought of on our own – Phone Sex! Once the idea had been explained, initially to looks of bafflement, it was agreed that whenever I was away, we would arrange a private time where I was alone in my room and Claire could be child-free and without danger of interruptions at home. I would then call her and we would arouse each other as much as we wanted over the telephone, bringing ourselves individually to a mutual climax.

It took some persuasion before Claire accepted that masturbation wasn’t a sin and in fact could be a positive thing in a marriage. The counsellor also had to provide her with a selection of pornographic material – books and videos, Claire was too embarrassed to let me know the details - to help her think of things to say and fantasies to enjoy as we spoke but she was prepared to give the idea a go.

After a slightly awkward start, within a week of my next departure we were both enjoying the new experience immensely and at least part of the strain in our marriage had been addressed. As she was still a little shy, typically I would have to take the lead and ask Claire questions to which she would provide exciting answers…

‘What are you wearing tonight?’

‘My tennis skirt and top. White socks.’

‘Panties?’

‘No’

‘Are your legs spread?”

“Just a little!”

“Where shall I touch you?’

‘Your fingers are sliding slowly up my thighs’

‘How far up have they reached?’

‘They’re tangled in my pubic hair.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m opened my thighs wider for you.’

‘How do you feel?’

‘Mmmm Wet. I want you badly.’

‘What am I doing now?’

‘You’re slipping a finger inside me…’

You get the picture? It drove me crazy, especially when I could hear Claire touching herself noisily in the background or the low buzz of the vibrator she had secretly bought (and thought I didn’t know about). We would often climax together though many miles apart.

It wasn’t nearly as good as real sex but it was a lot better than doing nothing.

The problem of Claire’s workload was harder to solve but a temporary solution came unexpectedly about six weeks later. We were both at home one evening when the phone rang.

“It’s your Mum.” I said, handing the receiver to Claire, who went into the kitchen to take the call. When she returned, she had a puzzled look on her face. I raised an eyebrow in question.

“You remember my Mum’s best friend Caroline?” she asked.

I did indeed remember her, although I hadn’t seen her for several years. She had been at our wedding, newly divorced and rather predatory as I recalled with embarrassment. She had taken rather a shine to my father at the time, not quite realising who he was. It could have been a tricky situation.

“Well did you meet her son Simon too,” Claire continued, “you know, the footballer?”

I remembered Simon too from the same occasion; a tall, sporty kid as I recalled with a real obsession with football as well as an impressive talent if the stories were true. But he had been pleasant enough.

Claire explained that Simon was doing a degree in Sports Science at University and had won a fantastic placement with one of London’s top Premier League football clubs – a real triumph and not to be missed. However he was finding it impossible to get affordable accommodation close to the sports ground so his mother had asked Claire’s mother to see if we could help.

“What, keep an ear to the ground in case we hear of anything?” I asked

“Actually no,” Claire said, embarrassed, “Mum thought we could put him up for a few weeks while he does his placement.”

“Claire…!” I moaned.

“I know, but she’s already said it would be ok,” my wife replied, her face a picture of unease, “I can’t really say no!”

“How long is the course?” I asked her.

“Twelve weeks.”

“Twelve weeks!” I exclaimed.

“It’s not that long Tim… that’s why he can’t get a flat!”

“Claire…”

“He’ll go home at weekends... and he’ll pay towards his board.”

We talked about it for a short time but I could see no way out. According to Claire, her Mum saw Simon as almost family after all and families should support each other. I was concerned about ‘having yet another kid in the house’ but Claire pointed out he was twenty years old and she herself was only twenty-nine. In addition, he had a driving licence...

I shrugged. Maybe he would be company for Claire too while I was away and he would be able to help with the kids’ logistics, particularly as I had a heavy travel schedule coming up. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

And so it was agreed. Simon would come and stay for a term, starting in only three weeks.

I had two short trips abroad during the following weeks during which Claire became much more confident in our phone sex sessions, probably feeling more relaxed at the idea of having some help around the house. This became clear as she began to take increasing control of the scenarios we used, leading us down a few new lines, probably as a result of her reading more of the ‘material’ the counsellor had loaned her. I wasn’t going to complain.

“So where did you go today?”

“I took the kids to school then went to the supermarket.”

“What were you wearing?”

“My short green denim skirt and a white top.”

“Bra?”

“The red one.”

“Panties?”

“In my handbag!”

“Who did you meet?”

“Carol and Sue at school. John McDonald at the supermarket.”

“How did you feel being out without knickers?”

“Mmmm. Very sexy! Very exposed!”

“What did you do about it?”

“I came home and finished myself off in the bedroom!”

“With your vibrator?”

“Mmmm yes – Hey! How long have you known about that?”

It did sometimes cross my mind that Claire’s scenarios were very vividly painted indeed – sometimes almost too vivid! This made for really excellent phone sex, but I did occasionally just wonder if perhaps – just perhaps – they were a bit more real than they were supposed to be. But then she was an English graduate and her imagination was supposed to be good, wasn’t it?

Anyway, a few weeks later Simon arrived by train from ‘the North’ one Sunday evening as planned. The doorbell rang at about eight o’clock and I opened it, stepping back in surprise. Not having seen Simon for at least five years, I hadn’t really appreciated the difference that period makes to a teenage boy. Instead of the spotty, slightly sullen, football obsessed teenager I remembered, there stood a tall, powerfully built, athletic young man in knee length shorts and a tight shirt that seemed – and probably was – designed to show off his admittedly rather impressive physique.

“Hi,” he said, “I’m Simon. You must be Mr…”

I recovered from my surprise, interrupting with a big smile: “Just Tim. Come in and meet everyone...”

Claire seemed equally surprised by Simon’s appearance but we all quickly adjusted. The kids were brought down in their pyjamas to meet their new house guest and we drank tea together and chatted before going early to bed in readiness for a busy week.

Once our near-silent lovemaking was over for the night, Claire and I lay side by side in bed.

“He seems a nice kid,” I offered.

“He’s still a bit shy but yes, he’s a lovely lad,” she agreed, “he’s a bit too aware of his good looks though.”

I laughed, “I spotted that too!” I pinched her on the arm. “Just make sure you don’t notice them too much.”

And so to our delight, a new, more relaxed lifestyle began. Simon proved to be a perfect gentleman and a great help for Claire, getting the kids ready for school and nursery in the mornings before going to work himself and then helping get them to bed in the evenings, as well as reading to and listening to them after work.

He managed to get Claire to start exercising again, with short, then longer runs around the London Park near to our home, and more regular visits to the local gym where our membership had all but lapsed. Over the weeks, Claire’s pre-childbirth sporty body began to return, much to my delight. Simon even got me exercising again and my once-tight rugby-playing physique starting to re-emerge. Claire was brighter and happier just having ‘another grown up to talk to’ and we became a very happy household.

My travel schedule was, as predicted, really hectic throughout this period and in the first four weeks I was only home for a handful of nights so our phone sex sessions became more and more important.

For the first three weeks Claire seemed to be really getting into it and the scenarios became more and more realistic and risqué, including being naked in public and being watched making love, depending on which chapter of the Counsellor’s book she had just finished reading, I supposed.

At the beginning of the fourth week we were well into a scenario in which we were having sex on a beach where we could be overseen by a tall, good looking man when out of the blue Claire took the narrative down a new track. The man came over and began to join in, touching her and kissing her in many places in front of me. I could clearly hear her vibrator in the background. This entirely new and unexpected direction was so arousing that I came far too early so I’m not sure how far she would have let the stranger go with her but it was an incredible turn on and I told her so as she finished herself off with her toy while I listened, still highly aroused.

The next few days were rather strange though. Although we still had phone sex, the ‘third person’ scenario was not repeated – in fact Claire’s heart seemed to have gone out of the whole process a little. Naturally I was upset and disappointed about this, as well as puzzled.

When I returned home at the weekend we had a follow-up meeting with our Counsellor who could immediately tell something had changed. After briefly talking to us together he then chatted to each of us separately before bringing us back into the room.

“It’s clear that during your phone session last week, something happened that upset one or perhaps both of you. It’s also clear that you both really enjoyed the session and perhaps have frightened yourselves at how strongly one particular scenario made you feel. I believe that at least one of you - Claire blushed at this - feels guilty about enjoying it so much and feels a little threatened by it.”

We were both unconsciously nodding.

“I’m going to ask you both to write on a slip of paper the scenario that turned you on most and which you would most like to play out in future. Then just pass it across to me. If your scenarios are at odds I won’t tell you what the other wanted and we will pursue another route. If they are compatible then we can talk it through and it might take away some of the tension that has built up so quickly in your relationship. So you must be truly honest with me!”

He passed each of us a pencil and a piece of paper. I thought for a minute or two, scribbled a response then slid the paper face down to the Counsellor. I noticed Claire needed no time to think and immediately wrote her note.

The Counsellor took both slips of paper in his hand and studied them. Then before our eyes he simply placed them side by side, face up on the table in front of us. On each slip was the same single word.

‘Simon’.

It took a little while for the truth to sink in. We had both been fantasising about Claire’s having passionate sex with our young lodger and were both feeling guilty about it.

Claire in particular had been feeling incredibly guilty and wicked about having any form of fantasy involving infidelity – adultery was one of the Ten Commandments after all – and especially so with someone who was almost a relative. She wasn’t sure whether or how to let me in on the secret but had been quite unable to dismiss it entirely.

It helped when the Counsellor explained that whatever we called him, Simon was not actually a relative and that anyway, in the UK it was perfectly legal to have sex with ones cousin; not even the church would object but she was still very nervous about how I would react.

For my part, I said that I would be happy to go along with anything my lovely wife wanted. I didn’t tell them that I had actually frightened myself with the extent of my arousal at the thought of Claire having sex with another man in front of me – in my fantasy anyway.

Could we agree ground rules for a fantasy involving the idea of Simon that we would both enjoy and which wouldn’t threaten our relationship?

My next trip would tell! It was to be a two week visit to South America – Brazil in fact to look at meat processing factories and install a new Quality System. As Claire waved to me in my taxi from the doorway, her chest still flushed from a farewell ‘see you soon’ sex session, we were both sort of looking forward to the new telephone scenario we would try out over the next week.

My first week in Brazil passed relatively smoothly. The local staff were extremely competent and all I had to do was oversee the main installation and train the group leaders. They were also very hospitable so I had to insist on taking time out from the social evenings to call home before the time in London was too late.

With little stress to bother me, I was very ready for our phone sex sessions. It took a little trial and error to get started but after that we went from strength to strength. Having a real person to picture touching Claire made the whole thing much more vivid and the way she spoke made everything so much more erotic.

‘Where did Simon touch you?’ I asked.

‘On my breasts at first. I took my shirt off for him’’

‘Did he unfasten your bra?’

‘No. I undressed for him. My nipples got so hard. He cupped my boobs and rolled my nipples in his fingers.’

‘Did you take off your skirt for him?’

“Yes. Slowly. And my panties. They were very damp.’

‘What did you do to him?’

‘I took off his shirt and stroked his chest. I love his strong muscular body.”

‘Did you pull down his shorts?’

‘Yes, I was on my knees in front of him.’

‘Was his cock big?’

‘Yes. It was long and thick. I took it deep into my mouth...’

Each night the fantasy got more and more detailed and more and more explicit. In my room I experienced some of the most powerful ejaculations of my adult life, my head spinning with images of my lovely wife exploring and being explored by her handsome young lover.

At the weekend I was taken into the hills by the friendly locals and ‘treated’ to a day’s horse riding. I had only ridden once or twice before and the experience half terrified me but it served to fill the Saturday.

On Sunday I went into work to try and get ahead of the project schedule so I could go home a day or so earlier the following weekend. Our night-time phone call was full of excitement as Simon had returned from his parents’ house in time for dinner. Inevitably our fantasies followed the previous week’s theme.

‘Where did he take you?’

‘Into our bedroom. I lay back on the bed.’

‘Where did he touch you?’

‘He lifted my skirt and pulled down my panties’

‘Did you resist?’

“No. I lifted my bottom to help him slide them off.’

‘Were you wet?’

‘God yes!’

‘What did you do?’

‘I spread my thighs for him…’

“What did he do?”

“He thrust himself deep into me… he was so big it hurt!”

My chest ached, I was so turned on and to be honest, I’m sure Claire was too. I could hear her moaning as she touched herself before eventually things reached a happy ending for both of us and we hung up.

Over the next few weeks, our scenarios grew more and more explicit as Claire relaxed into the idea of sex with another man until she eventually introduced into our adventures the idea of threesomes in our own bed.

During the two week period I was home before my next trip, our bedroom sessions were some of the hottest I can remember in our marriage and it was with considerable regret that I flew off to Brazil for a week’s project update.

The next day was very busy indeed. Slightly jet-lagged, things at work took a turn for the worse and it was quite late before I could call Claire at home in London. I had almost forgotten Simon was back with them but when eventually we spoke I could tell something wasn’t right. I tried to remain normal assuming Claire would let me know in her own good time.

After the usual ‘how was your day’ chat, she led the conversation almost casually towards the fact that she and Simon had gone for a long run that evening, and then for a quick drink at a local bar afterwards while a neighbour kept an eye on the kids. It had been quite late when they had returned home.

“Did you kiss him goodnight?” I asked, not sure whether the role-playing scenario had started.

“Yes I did.”

Her voice sounded a little … different.

"Was it a casual goodnight kiss?"

"Yes…’ she replied automatically, then paused, “well…” She waited a surprisingly long time before continuing, “well not entirely casual… it was… kind of… a real kiss."

“How did it happen?” I asked, intrigued at how the scenario was moving.

“I went to kiss him on the cheek but he moved his head and I got his lips instead.”

“Did you kiss him back?” I asked, immediately excited.

“Y… Yes! But just a little bit,” she whispered, then almost shouted, "I'm so sorry, Tim! I didn't mean for it to happen. We’d split of bottle of wine at the bar and… I didn't expect it, but once he started kissing me, I just couldn’t help myself! Please don't be upset!"

"I’m not upset… yet,” I replied as calmly as I could, “in fact you're making me hard!” I paused, listening to her breathing heavily on the other end of the line. God! She was a good actress. This scenario was amazing.

“I want to hear more," I said, but Claire hurriedly continued her protests.

"It's you I love, not Simon. It was a silly mistake that’s all," she said, "besides, I couldn't cheat on you."

There was a longer pause. My mind raced. How I could make this great scenario even better.

"Not even if I gave you permission?" I asked, the words bursting out before my brain could stop them.

“What?” she asked in amazement.

“What if I wanted you to... go further... with him?”

“I don’t understand…” she said, her voice a little shaky.

“If you knew for certain I wanted you to, would you want to do more with him?”

There was a long pause.

“But he’s just a boy,” she said in half-hearted protest.

“I know, but… well, we both had the fantasy didn’t we...?”

Another long pause.

“I’ve never cheated on you, you know that?” She said.

“I know,” I replied quickly, “and I’ve never cheated on you either. But it’s not cheating if I want you to do it, is it?”

Claire didn’t reply.

“Is it?” I insisted. “I know you’ve admired that body of his ever since he arrived, haven’t you?”

There was a last long pause.

“Claire?” I prompted.

"Well, anyway, my period started today so nothing can happen this week," she said and after a few minutes more chat we progressed to our usual phone sex – only much, much more vivid and much, much more intense.

Something had definitely changed!

The next day at work was little better than the first, fire-fighting systems issues most of the day which prevented me thinking about Claire and our extraordinary conversation the previous evening.

Blessedly, things all began to fall into line during the late afternoon and, after going for a few drinks with colleagues by way of reward, it was around eleven o’clock London time when I called home. By now my heart was thumping in my chest in anticipation and fear that she would have regretted our little game.

I needn’t have worried. I settled naked on my bed before calling and after a few quick questions about the kids, I established that Claire was also nearly naked in bed with her toys to hand, before asking what had happened. Her voice was a little dreamy when she replied.

“We kissed goodnight again.”

“In the hallway?”

“In the lounge this time.”

“Is that all?”

“We kissed a lot. My lips are numb.”

“Did you let him touch you?”

“Yes I did.”

“Where did he touch you?”

“On my boobs. I let him undo my blouse and flip up my bra.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Mmm. My nipples were very hard.”

“Did he suck them?”

“Yes.”

“Did he touch between your legs?”

“Only through my shorts.”

“Did you get wet?”

“Very.”

Before much more could be said I had ejaculated all over my sheets, Claire must have heard my moan and realised what had happened. She paused as if waiting for me to gather myself together.

“What should I do tomorrow night?” she asked softly and teasingly, “I can tell you enjoyed tonight.”

“Whatever you feel you want to do. No holds barred,” I replied, “as long as you tell me it all. Promise?”

“I promise, darling,” she said.

“Claire?” I asked just as I thought she was about to hang up, “this is just a really great fantasy, isn’t it? You are just teasing me, aren’t you?”

“I never promised to tell you that…” was all she said before the line went dead.

I found it hard to concentrate on my work the following day, despite the continuing problems with the project. I worked late into the evening again and it must have been after midnight in London when I finally lay back on the bed and called home, wondering what my lovely wife had been doing.

The phone rang several times before it was answered. This time, before I could say anything more than ‘Hello’, Claire came right out with it:

"I gave him a blow job!"

"Oh my God!" I said, my cock instantly erect in my shorts.

I had never heard my wife use those words before; it must have been in the porn the Counsellor had provided.

"Tell me what happened."

“You really want to hear?”

“Christ, yes!”

"Okay…” she sounded nervous. “After we’d cleared away the dinner and put the kids to bed, we started watching a film on TV. We both sat on the couch.”

“Go on…” I begged, freeing my hardening cock from its cotton prison.

“His hand accidentally fell on my leg and stayed there. After a while I began stroking the back of his hand. He began to stroke higher up my leg. I stopped him getting too high and turned to tell him to stop.”

“Then what happened?”

“He kissed me on the lips. It surprised me.”

“Did you kiss him back?”

“Not straight away”

“But you did eventually?”

“Yes.”

“Did you suck his tongue?”

“Yes and he sucked mine. We kissed for a long time on the sofa. As if we were still teens snogging.”

“Did you let him touch you?”

“I let him bare my boobs again and touch them but I wouldn't let him take off my skirt or panties. He tried but I told him I'm on my period. He didn’t seem to care but I kept his hands away.”

“Did you touch him?”

“We snogged a lot more; he nuzzled my boobs; I undid his belt, slid down his jeans and pants, took out his cock, and gave him a blow job.”

“Was it a good one?”

“He said it was the best he’s had. I think he was lying but I don’t care!"

Oh my God! I thought, my chest tight with excitement, not really knowing whether this was the truth or just another fantastic telephone fantasy.

"I think you're great at it but could do with more practice," I said, envious. Claire hadn’t given me many blow jobs during our marriage but they had all been really exciting.

“Don’t’ embarrass me,” she laughed.

“Is his cock bigger than mine?” I asked then immediately regretted it.

“Longer but thinner; not as thick as I had imagined it,” she immediately replied. Something about this response puzzled me but I couldn’t put my finger on the problem.

“Did he cum?” I asked, eager to keep the scenario going, my free hand active in my groin.

“Of course!” she hissed.

“In your mouth?”

“Yes!”

“Did you swallow?”

“No I spat it into a tissue.”

“Oh God Claire,” I sighed as my own semen splashed over my naked belly. “I do hope this isn’t just another fantasy!”

“I guess you’ll just have to wonder…” she said softly. I heard the familiar low buzzing sound of her vibrator just before the line went dead.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of erotic moments. According to her stories, Claire and Simon had dinner each night followed, when the kids had gone to bed, by kissing, cuddling, fondling and ending with her delivering another blow job.

It was, quite simply, the most fantastic phone sex we had ever had together, or at least for me it was. From the sounds Claire was making over the phone, I could tell she enjoyed our sessions, too.

On Friday evening, Simon left by train for his home ‘up North’ and I flew into Heathrow early on the Saturday morning .When I entered the house it was soon obvious that the week’s activities had done wonders for both our libidos; I’ll swear Claire and I had more and better sex that weekend than at any time since our honeymoon.

But no matter how often I asked, she steadfastly refused to tell me whether she had been telling the truth about her week with Simon or whether she had simply moved to a much higher standard of erotic story-telling.

The frustration was… simply wonderful.

This story has been split into two parts to meet Lushstories requirements for length.