Homecoming, The Epilogue free porn video

It’s been nearly four years since Michelle’s ‘homecoming’, her long Caribbean cruise with Brett. I’ve had a lot of people asking about Michelle’s ‘first time’ with Brett, after her month-long forced abstinence. I haven’t told about it because, well – just because I haven’t. I got involved in other stories, Matt and Adriana, Robert and Karen, and a few little tidbits.

I probably wouldn’t be now, except for that e-mail from Alec, Michelle’s first extra-curricular lover, in Kodiak while I was in the Coast Guard. He’s coming to Kennewick next month and I have no idea what might happen, if anything. He’s married now, so I’m guessing that there’ll be nothing except maybe some reminiscing. But, if there’s a story to tell afterward, I’d rather have already told the rest of Michelle’s story first.

And there is, in all honesty, quite a lot to tell. My and Michelle’s lives changed pretty dramatically when I showed her that story about Alec in Kodiak that was published on New Year’s Eve, and she subsequently told me about her long-time affair with Mike in college. The whirlwind aftermath of that revelation had seemed to come to a close after Michelle cut that bracelet off her ankle.

It had been five weeks since that night. Michelle returned to her job with the law office and they were thrilled to have her back. She’d never used the gift certificate she’d been given and donated it to the local domestic abuse house a few blocks from our house and was even starting to look into online law courses to become an attorney herself.

Michelle’s biggest unfinished business was Shaun, her boyfriend/lover. While she was gone with Brett, I made an executive decision to suggest to him that he call Diana, the woman Michelle tried to fix me up with while she was gone. Is this Peyton Place or what?

My date with Diana had gone fabulously and we’d spent a fabulous day, then hot night together, but she was a woman who wanted a permanent relationship; not part-time with another woman’s husband. And she deserved happiness, after her husband had died a year earlier. He left her enough to buy her dream airplane and before he died, told her to live and enjoy her life.

To make a long story much shorter, I called Shaun and gave him her phone number, suggesting that they would likely enjoy each other. The last I heard from Diana, right before Michelle’s homecoming, was a big thank-you. Apparently, they’d hit it off just like I suspected they would.

I told Michelle about Shaun and Diana, I forget, either the first or second night in Seattle. She took it well but had been apprehensive about calling him since we got home. I remember that she once told me that she’d have a very hard time if she lost Shaun the way I’d lost Jacqui. And it appears that’s exactly what happened.

It was two weeks later before Michelle called him. She was in the bedroom with the door open and I was in the living room. I heard her say “Hi,” then she closed the door. Maybe I should have minded, but I didn’t. This was private between her and Shaun, just like many things had been private between me and Jacqui. We’ve always told each other everything, but often after the fact, which is exactly what I expected Michelle to do. Her phone call with him, though, I understood.

She came in the living room several minutes later, wiping tears from her cheeks. She sat on my lap, kissed me, and said, “That was a nice thing you did…”

I sensed there was more, “But?”

“But… I hate you!” She said it with a bit of a smile, certainly not with any sense that she meant what she said. “They’re both happy, grateful to you. And going to get married.” Another tear streaked down her cheek, “Hard, though, I wasn’t ready to let go… guess I know how you felt when Jacqui left, huh.”

Yeah, now she knew. Made me think back to Jacqui, too. I was devastated when she was transferred to Helena, but then when she told me she was getting married… That wedding was hard to go to, but I was happy for her.

I held Michelle on the couch, both of us watching Blue Bloods, then The Rookie and she was feeling much better when we went to bed a couple hours later. I’d say MUCH better if our lovemaking was any indication.

And that wasn’t the only night that our love life was on top of the world. It was at least every other night, more often every night. She and Brett had pretty obviously been ‘adventurous’ because Michelle seemed familiar with a lot of new positions for sex that we’d never used before.

Like the night that she had me blindfold her and tie her to the bed face down, knees pulled apart tight and tied up to the top corners of the bed with her feet tied to the bottom. Now THAT was a fun night! But it sure wasn’t anything we’d ever done before, obviously something she’d learned from Brett.

Another thing she’d learned from Brett was the change in her hair. Ever since we’d married, it’s been her natural color, dark brown. Brett had convinced her to dye it a golden blonde. She was letting it grow, too, now several inches down her back; long, lush and silky. Michelle’s hair added so much to her allure. She’d always been sexy – from the time I had a secret crush on her when she was a cheerleader in high school; the night Alec spent with us in Kodiak; to her becoming a high-end escort and meeting Brett. Her smile has always lit up a room. But now, since coming home from that trip, she just exudes a whole new aura… that I can’t even begin to explain.

But that ‘thing’ kept nagging at me, like it has with so many readers asking me to tell the story over the last three years; that first night with Brett, what was it like? Michelle told me about the massages, shopping, etc, but never that first night. I was hoping she’d bring it up one of the many times we were making love, but she never had. Actually, she hadn’t told me anything more about her weeks with Brett. Although, I didn’t wait three years to ask her, I just never wrote it.

It was a Saturday night, September seventeenth, after those five weeks of relative normalcy, (although our sex had been anything but ‘normal’), Michelle and I were sitting on the couch, snuggled up, arms around each other, watching a sexy series we’d discovered on Netflix, Outlander. She was wearing one of her new nightgowns with a silky gown on over it and I had on a pair of boxers that Michelle liked – especially, with the bulge inside them that she was nonchalantly manipulating with her fingertips.

I don’t know what possessed me to say it; maybe just the fact that the babydoll she was wearing under that gown was one she’d bought to wear with Brett, or maybe the scene in the TV show, but I blurted out, “Hon… that first night… I’ve been dying to know…”

She smiled at me, a surprised look on her face, “Been wondering when you’d ask. What brought that up all of a sudden?”

I looked down, reaching underneath her sexy clothes and gently pinched her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, “Dunno, it just popped out… but honestly, been wanting to know.”

She moaned a little, her nipples are just as sensitive as on our wedding night, “Mmm, that feels good… you sure you want to know?”

I nodded, “Yeah, it’s been driving me out of my mind wondering,” I told her.

Another little moan as I pinched a little harder, “Actually, it has me, too, wanting to tell you. I’ve been thinking how… if you’d ever ask, how to tell you.”

I had a great idea, “You could, umm… just… tell me?” Actually, I was thinking that tonight, while we were making love would be an excellent time.

A little giggle and a shake of the pretty head, “Too special for that, think we need to work up to it.”

She was making me nervous.

“I’ve… been thinking about it,” her hand wrapped around my cock, squeezing, “Another month is too long…” Now she was really making me nervous! “I think two weeks… “ She got up, walked over to the calendar hanging on the cork-board in the dining room, “The thirtieth, September thirtieth, I’ll tell you everything. But until then…”

My nervometer peaked, knowing damned well what she was going to say, “I think we need to make it special, abstain until then… maybe even sleep in separate bedrooms…”

I’ll tell you right upfront, the following two weeks were NOT pleasant. After the sex we’d been having, then simply stopped, starting that night! I was miserable, horny. She thought it’d be fun. I guess my concept of ‘fun’ was a little different.

Not once, not a single time, did I even see her in anything except baggy clothes or her old robe during those two weeks. I slept in one of the spare bedrooms, she slept in our room. Her workday always started at nine and mine at eight, so I never even saw her getting ready for work. When she got home, usually quite a bit later than me, she always texted me right before and asked me to go in my bedroom until she changed.

Living with her for those two weeks like this was hell, almost worse than the time without her, except for the fact I wasn’t scared out of my wits like when she was gone with Brett. She told me she was ‘hiding her body’ to raise the anticipation for that night. Well, it was damn well working!

Fortunately, my work was busy. It was early fall, good weather and construction was booming. For anyone who doesn’t recall, I’m a building inspector for the City of Kennewick, the manager of the office. We were busy with a backlog of new and ongoing construction, so I didn’t have any time at work to ruminate on what Michelle was doing to me.

I’m not going to bore you anymore with those two weeks. Suffice it to say that it was a damned long two weeks! Saturday morning, September thirtieth, did come, however. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before for obvious reasons. Sleep had become a precious commodity over lots of those nights, but especially that Friday night.

Even though it’s now been three-and-a-half years, I remember the happenings of that Saturday almost like it was yesterday, every detail fresh in my mind.

Saturday morning, Michelle said she had a couple appointments. “Then we’re going on a little trip,” she told me. No clue where or what, except that she said she’d packed a bag for me.

So I moped around home, vacuumed the floor, shaved, brushed my teeth, ready to leave when Michelle got home, wondering what the hell she had planned. She’d also set out a suitcase and garment bag, asking me to put them in the Miata, “And no peeking,” she’d admonished me. They were loaded and I sat down to find a college football game. I scrolled through my Dish and found Georgia and Tennessee. It looked like a bit of a blowout, but as I watched, it was at least entertaining. Jake Fromm was on fire, and the Dawgs were up twenty-four – zip when Michelle got home halfway through the third quarter, almost one o’clock.

I stared at her. She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and pants, but God, she looked good.
That honey-blonde hair flowing down her back, fingernails polished and beautiful, face radiant. And that perfume! “You’ve been…” Hell, I could hardly speak.

“Uhuh, had a little girl-glam time, you like?”

All I could do was nod. God, I was so fuckin’ horny! And the anticipation was killing me. This seemed like a tiny bit of a preview for what was coming.

“Everything in the car?” she asked me.

This time I managed an actual verbal answer, “Uhuh.”

So, a few minutes later, I was in the passenger seat of the Mazda and we were headed… I still didn’t know where, except it was on I-82 toward Oregon. It was a warm fall day, in the mid-seventies, so the Miata’s top was down, hidden away in the trunk, and Michelle’s beautiful hair was blowing in the wind like a sexy movie scene, dark glasses and all. I couldn’t take my eyes away.

Shortly before the bridge across the Columbia, Michelle exited toward Plymouth. I assumed we were headed toward Portland, going down the Washington side, instead of the freeway in Oregon. It’s a beautiful drive, except so much slower.

The one thing I love most about the drive down the Washington side of the river is the tunnels. I still remember as a kid, my mom and dad’s car, Dad honking the horn through the old tunnels. There are five of them, one right after the other just before the Bridge of the Gods at Cascade Locks. They’re still exactly the same as they were thirty-plus years ago; unlined, two-lane rock tunnels, perfect to make the car horn echo, something I’ll never outgrow. Michelle knows it, too, honking the horn as we go through every one. And in that convertible – wow!

By the way, the ‘Bridge of the Gods’ is a Native American legend for the landslide that dammed the Columbia River and formed a land bridge roughly five-hundred years ago.

Enough gobbledygook geology. Michelle surprised me by turning left across the bridge. I expected her to turn on the freeway toward Portland, but she didn’t. Instead, she headed straight to the old Columbia Gorge Hotel before the freeway.

We’d wondered about it several times as we drove down the freeway. It’s big, beautiful, right on the banks of the river with a huge tree-covered park-like yard in front and it’s old. Far as I know, it’s always been there, maybe even in pre-historic times.

Michelle pulled in the parking lot and smiled at me, “We’re there,” she said.

I cocked my eyes at her with the surprised look on my face. My anticipation had been spiking by the minute since early morning, but especially now that I knew where we were going.,

“You want to grab the suitcase?” she asked.

Not much to do except what she asked. She carried the garment bag and me the suitcase and we checked in. The lobby is huge, with big chandeliers on the ceiling, ferry boat, Celilo Falls, and other historic pictures on the walls, ancient-looking furniture, virtually everything from days long past.

They even had a porter carrying our luggage and leading us to our room with a beautiful view of the river from the big balcony. The room was incredible, everything you’d expect from an ancient hotel, even to the extent of the old telephone on the wall with the separate earpiece and crank for ringing the desk. I learned later that the hotel had been built in 1920. Not so old by European standards, but it was in Oregon.

Once we were ensconced in our room, I had one simple, little thing on my mind. Well, two I guess; that night of Michelle and Brett, and fucking my wife! It seemed a shame to ignore the view from the balcony, but it seemed pretty secondary – or terciary.

Unfortunately, I discovered pretty rapidly that Michelle had other plans, at least for the short term. When I tried to push her sweatshirt up over her head, I got it up about an inch before my hands were swatted away. “Not now, we’re going out first,” she said.

I groaned. It had been two very long weeks. I didn’t know if I could stand even a few more minutes, much less going out.

“Your clothes are in the garment bag, I’ll get them.”

We’d already hung the bag in the closet so she stepped over and pulled out a very nice looking shirt, jacket, and slacks, all new, in contrasting shades of blue. She laid them on the bed, pulled a pair of black dress shoes and socks out of the suitcase and with a smile told me, “This is ALL you brought for tonight,” then before I could mention that something was missing, she took the garment bag and her small overnight bag from the suitcase and disappeared in the bathroom.

I looked again at what she’d set out. I do NOT go out without underwear! I went through the suitcase. None. Zilch. Nada.

Oookay, I guess… I picked up the slacks. Nice. Not like any I’d worn before, soft, smooth, I don’t even know how to describe them, some kind of microfiber? I pulled them on, sans underwear. It actually felt kind of good against my bare skin, sexy. Maybe not so bad, after all.

The shirt was a much lighter blue, silky, subtle stripes. It felt good, too. I put on the jacket, the same material as the slacks, and wished I could check myself out in front of the mirror. Unfortunately, my wife was occupying the bathroom where the only mirror would be.

So I took the jacket back off and lay down on the bed to wait. Visions of my wife filled my head when I closed my eyes: The time we went out to dinner with her wearing that totally transparent blouse… and the rest of that night. God, it seemed like an eternity ago, but was actually less than a year; The recording of Michelle and Jeremy. We’d watched it together a couple times since she got home. I closed my eyes and there they were, Michelle on her hands and knees, Jeremy behind her, pulling her hair, “Harder, Jeremy, harder…” over and over again. God, I was a fucked up, horny mess.

And then… I sensed her presence; opening my eyes, she was standing alongside the bed, dressed in a skin-tight, black dress I’d never seen before, a thin strap over one shoulder, the other bare. It was short, silky, no bra. The shape of her breasts, contours of her nipples pushed against the material, almost like it wasn’t even there. It would have been right at home in bed as a nightgown. Hair brushed out down her back, red lips, sheer, black stockings, high heels strapped around her ankles, and that perfume! God, she was so sexy!

The seductive smile on her face, “You ready?” she asked me.

Hell no, I didn’t want to go anywhere, except to drag my woman into the bed with me.

“I didn’t want to go out that night. We were in our room. He laid this dress out for me, said we were going to dinner.

“It was the first time I’d seen it. When I put it on… it did something to me, made me feel so sexy… this is the first time I’ve worn it since that night.”

Yeah, I could see why. It was sexy as fuckin’ hell. Damn!

I scooted over to the side of the bed and sat up, reaching for my jacket. Michelle knelt in front of me, “He had me kneel in front of him… told me he wanted to ‘set the mood’ for the night.”

She unzipped my pants. Now I knew why the ‘no underwear’. I’d been hard off and on all day and in that hotel room, thinking and waiting…

I felt her warm lips and groaned, “He was so hard, like you are… god, I wanted him inside me,” she looked up at me, “like I do you, right now.

“When I told him that, all he said was ‘later’… he reached around my head and pulled me onto him,” as I felt her warm, wet lips engulfing my cock, then her tongue exploring the tip.

After two weeks, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t be able to take much of this, especially when I felt my cock against the back of her throat, then the swallow and her throat opening up, her lips sliding to the base. A loud groan escaped my lips. I was already feeling the cum starting to rise and that familiar feeling of heaven just before the explosion.

And then the cold air on the wetness. “He pushed me away, said he didn’t want to come yet, that he’d waited too long for the first time to be over so soon.”

“I wanted to feel him, the soft skin on his steel rod, cum in my throat, to taste it… but he pulled me to my feet, told me it was time for our dinner reservation.”

I watched as she stepped back into the bathroom with the door left open and held her mouth just so as she applied more lipstick where it’d rubbed off. As I watched, I put on the jacket that she’d bought just for tonight and she took my hand, leading us out the door to where, I still had no idea.

But I saw the rest of her dress… or lack of, would be more accurate, crisscrossed straps across her back, leaving lots of bare, still tanned skin before she slipped on a light jacket.

She handed me the keys to the Miata and stood beside the door, waiting for me to open it for her. Then slid in onto the leather seat, letting her dress slide up her thighs showing the frilly tops of her stockings.

She directed me through town, eastbound. The Miata was still new, so much fun to drive, almost like an oversized, high-tech go-kart. Down to the marina on the river, the Columbia Gorge Stern wheeler waiting at the dock.

We’d seen it several times as we drove down the freeway to Portland. It looks exactly like pictures of the big stern wheelers on the Mississippi. We’d both commented that it’d be fun to take one of their cruises sometime. It looked like the time had come.

A few minutes later we’d been marked off the guest list and were walking down the gangplank. A photographer asked us to stop for a picture. Michelle took off her jacket, laid it across the handrail, took my arm, and snuggled up close with that captivating, sexy smile that can light up a room.

The stern wheeler sailed at four-thirty and it was a quarter-after when we got there, so we wandered around the boat while we waited, our fingers interlaced the whole time. There were several other people, mostly couples, none dressed quite like Michelle and me, certainly none who looked anything at all as gorgeous as her.

At four-thirty-five the boat started vibrating with the low growl from the big diesel engine and a moment later the big wheel started to move. We’d made it a point to be at the back to watch. The boat gradually moved away from the pier and a few minutes later we were moving up the river. We found a stair up to the second level, wandering up there for a better view of the scenery.

On the outside, for all the world, I was fascinated with the big boat. I’d never been on anything like it before. But inside… inside, my pulse was pounding with an adrenaline rush. My cock was hard and the only thing I could think about was… well, pretty sure I don’t need to spell it out. The fact that every guy we passed raked Michelle’s body over with his eyes wasn’t helping my libido, either. And I wasn’t the least self-conscious with my constant hard-on, especially with no underwear to rein it in. No, not at all, ha!

Michelle told me that this was a dinner cruise. We had an hour before we needed to be in the dining room. We pointed out things on the shore that looked so different from this view; a beautiful house sitting on a bluff overlooking the river that we’d never seen before. A beautiful waterfall on the Washington side right into the river. You can’t see it from the Washington highway and it’s too far from Oregon.

But still, my mind was on one track only. What was still to come that night? I’d wondered about that night the whole time Michelle was gone and then the seven weeks since. Now that the time was finally here, I had what I could only describe as a major adrenaline rush going on.

At twenty-five after, we made our way back down to the first level and the dining room. When we got there, just before going through the door, Michelle gave me a short peck on my cheek and told me, “He told me to ‘not let them know’. I had no idea what he meant.” I looked at her with what must have shown my befuddlement, as I sure didn’t know what it might have meant, either.

There were probably fifty people already in the dining room, a steady stream still coming in, several hosts and hostesses seating everyone. A pretty, young lady took our names and noted them on her tablet before escorting us to a table for two. It had a white tablecloth, two sets of silverware, and a candle in the center, all very formal, including her long, flowing skirt. I was surprised, Michelle and I weren’t overdressed at all, although none of the other women even came close. Maybe I was a bit prejudiced, but I thought, just being honest.

Our table was situated along the outside of the room with a beautiful view of the Washington side of the river. She told us that her name was Marianne and she’d be our server, asking what we’d like to drink and Michelle quickly spoke, “I’ll have a gin and tonic, Bombay.”

I looked at her with a surprised look. What the hell was that about? First; she doesn’t drink, second; what the hell is it?

I started to order something I’d had once a long time ago, a Singapore Sling, but Michelle interrupted, “Remember, sweet, you’re driving.”

Okay, I looked at Marianne, “Ice tea,” I guess. She thanked us and said she’d be back shortly.

I watched her for a moment, seating another couple, then back to Michelle, “What the heck was that, Bombay?” I asked Michelle, soon as the girl was gone.

“It’s what I drank a lot of with Brett,” she explained, then very quietly, “makes me sooo horny!”

As if to prove her point, her right hand slipped underneath the table. I didn’t think too much of it at that instant until I felt it on my thigh, then a little more centered. It was hidden as the tablecloth draped over the edge of the table hiding what went on underneath, Michelle’s fingers tracing little circles on my hardened ‘junk’, while at the same time, giving me that seductive smile.

“We were sitting at the Captain’s table, along with his wife, just the four of us,” she started to tell me when Marianne brought our drinks, and Michelle took a long, slow drink, looking straight into my eyes the whole time.

As she was setting her drink back down, still watching me, I felt her hand that had been tracing the circles on my cock begin to slowly pull my zipper down. I wasn’t breathing, couldn’t; my cock, unrestrained by any underwear emerged from its hiding place, proud and tall, anticipating what my wife was about to do.

But she didn’t. her hand arose above the table, bringing her glass to her lips once more. Another long, slow sip of her aphrodisiac drink, looking into my eyes once again. Right or wrong, I took that as a signal, my hand finding its way to her leg, feeling her heat through her silky stocking.

“I was already so horny. He ordered me the drink. He leaned over and whispered to me again, ‘Don’t let them know,’ then his fingers… on my thigh… then…”

My hand crept up her leg, pushing her dress along with it. Remembering again that it had been five long weeks that night with Brett, not just the two we’d just had. And how she’d told me the night she came home how she’d been sexually tormented with massages, shopping, trying on sexy clothes.

My hand crept higher, to the soft skin of the inside of her thigh. I felt Michelle’s body begin to tremble. She took another drink of her Bombay, letting her legs spread slightly apart.

She’d freed my cock a moment ago. We’ve had erotic dinners before, ever since that New Year’s Eve, where she told me about her college time with Mike. But never quite like this, where she’d…

Good thing, the pants I was wearing might have been torn by my hardness. I watched Michelle’s face as my fingertips brushed slightly for the first time against her soaking panties. She was trying to show a calm demeanor to the people at the adjacent tables, and the wait staff. But I knew better; her pursed lips, the heat emanating through her panties, like she was reliving that night with Brett.

“So fuckin’ horny!” I heard very quietly under her breath. I didn’t know if she meant now or that night with Brett, but if wet panties were any indication… “His fingers felt like… like they were on fire… so hot!”

And those wet panties barely covered her sex. When I hooked a finger underneath them, feeling her baby-smooth, bare skin, how wet and slippery she was and worked slowly up and down her slit before pressing inside her, she had a sharp intake of her breath, momentarily closed her eyes, and squeezed her legs together. I immediately thought of another time she’d squeezed her legs together just like that, in Kodiak when we were entertaining my Coast Guard friend, Alec, just before the night ascended into what was still one of the most erotic of our lives.

Michelle was more than a little aroused; like she had been that other night so long ago, like she had undoubtedly been that night with Brett. Little moans were emanating from her mouth

That was the moment that Marianne brought us two small dinner salads. Michelle’s body was vibrating with excitement, trying to act normal. I pulled my hand from underneath the table and noted that one finger was glistening with moisture. I don’t know if Marianne noticed, but when she winked and said, “Enjoy,” I wondered if she was talking about the salad, or something else.

Michelle is right-handed. She always eats with her right hand, but that night she picked up her fork with her left and her right disappeared under the table once again, wrapping around my cock and squeezing. “I think he liked it,” was all she said, before a forkful of salad found its way into her mouth. I don’t think she was talking about his salad. I sure as hell wasn’t!

A few minutes later, Marianne brought our main courses; grilled salmon for Michelle, and several slices of rare prime rib for me. I was having a very hard time keeping a straight face when Michelle intentionally squeezed and pumped her hand a little when she was leaving the plates.

Over the next half-hour, while trying to eat, we took turns tormenting each other hidden under the table, exactly like I imagined Michelle and Brett that night, his words ‘Don’t let them know’ resounding in my mind. Even after the two weeks, we were both so on the edge that I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like that other night.

Michelle ordered a second gin and tonic, “I like how it makes me feel,” she told me.

Even with the extracurricular activities, the food was incredible. Then the small bowl of spumoni ice cream. But all I wanted was to get my wife back to our hotel room. And it seemed she wanted the same thing.

When we stood, Michelle first pulled her dress down. Good thing, too, as it had been pretty much bunched up around her waist. We still had another hour, an excruciating hour, before the boat was scheduled to dock.

It was cooler outside on the water, so she put on her jacket. It was disappointing as I liked how men… and women had been looking at her, their eyes hungry, like I was the luckiest guy on earth to be with this woman. And I was; it was hard to not be thinking about a little later when I’d truly be ‘with’ her in our hotel room.

We walked up to the third deck, the top of the boat, arms around each other, standing at the guardrail watching the beautiful shore go past as the powerful engine pushed us back down the river. We walked from one side to the other, first the Washington side, then Oregon. Like I said, it all looks so different and beautiful from the river, like the freeway on the Oregon side at that point, how it’s built out over the river supported on columns down into the river. You never notice that driving down the highway.

The boat turned around right above Bonneville Dam. We were at the front of the boat, still on the third deck, watching the water rushing underneath the boat when Michelle turned to me, gave me a hug, whispering, “I love you,” and smiled at me, that smile that has captivated so many in her lifetime, “I never said those words to Brett… only to you,” but then added, “everything else, though, I didn’t hold anything else back.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d seen how she had, that weekend in Chicago, been his woman, totally, enthusiastically, enjoying every second; that morning out by the pool, making love with him while Kristen and I watched. Not fucking, but making love, his cock sliding in and out of her. I hadn’t ever been so damned jealous in my life… and so fuckin’ turned on! I shook my head, trying to shake the image out of my mind, not succeeding.

It was a quarter after eight when we disembarked off the boat. They had given us our picture (‘gave’ it to us for another forty bucks!) and we were back in the Miata heading toward the hotel, finally! The closer it came, the harder my cock seemed to get. I didn’t think it could get harder, but what can I say.

In the lobby, I started to head straight for the stair, but Michelle held me back, said, “He wanted to dance after dinner,” and pulled me toward a room.

I hadn’t realized the hotel had a bar. Of course, it would have been empty when we were here earlier. There was a stage and a guy singing, some kind of light rock I guess. I’m not a music expert by any means, unless it’s country. And not an expert then, either, just a little more familiar since it’s what I like. But this guy sounded pretty decent, too.

We sat at a little table for two and a guy came over, asked if we’d like anything to drink. I started to speak when Michelle broke in, “I’d like a gin and tonic, Bombay,” she said.

The guy looked toward me. I didn’t have to drive now, so, “The same, please.”

While we waited, she started, “Brett ordered me the drink,” Michelle said, “I’d told him earlier how horny it was making me… I could have told him I didn’t need another drink,” she looked straight into my eyes, “I was already so turned on that I could barely stand it. The only thing I wanted then was for him to take me to our cabin.”

I glanced down. Her nipples were a pretty good indication, and they were poking holes through her dress. She saw where I was looking and looked down herself, “Like now,” she said, “it’s what I want.”

I started to get up, “Then let’s…”

She put her hand on mine, “No, not yet, we’re… not ready.”

The waiter brought our drinks and I gave him my card. Michelle took a sip and I followed suit. It wasn’t half bad, kind of enjoyed it. She put hers back down and leaned over to kiss me, soft, sensual, her lips melting into mine, tasting like the ‘Bombay’, her tongue probing, then back just beyond touching. I still felt her breath. “It was our first kiss… and it was electric… so good.” And her lips were back on mine, this time more urgent, like we hadn’t kissed for two long weeks. Which we hadn’t.

After breaking that kiss, she told me, “We weren’t just on the ship the whole time, you know, there’s a little island, Antigua, in the Caribbean. We stayed at a resort there for two weeks.” Her fingers were tickling the back of my hand as she was telling me this, “I don’t know how many times we made love… in our suite, the balcony, on little beaches we found…”

I pictured my wife on the beach making love. And the thought briefly went through my mind, being home… alone. But that thought quickly dissipated. I’d encouraged that trip, knowing full well. And besides, it was hot as hell!

“… show you the bikinis I wore.”

My mind had left the premises shortly, “What? Your bikinis?” I asked her, hoping to not sound too loopy. I’d been drinking that gin and tonic and not exactly used to it.

“When we get home, I’ll show you my bikinis. Maybe even model them for you,” she smiled, obviously enjoying what she was doing to my libido.

“Let’s dance,” she suggested, responding to the first slow song the singer did, getting up from her chair and tugging my hand along with her. There were only two other couples dancing. Michelle wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her cheek against mine. I wrapped my arms around her, rubbing my hands against the bare skin of her back. Her perfumed scent flooding my senses.

“He’s a really good dancer… but we didn’t actually dance very long. We…”

And her lips were on mine, her tongue between my lips, oblivious to the other couples dancing and the people sitting around at tables. She pulled my head tighter and her soft lips stiffened, pressing against mine. Our feet were no longer moving and I wasn’t even hearing the music, just feeling.

I pulled her tighter, crushing her breasts against my chest, hands reaching lower on her back. I know her dress had to have been pulled up, how high I had no idea but no doubt high enough to give a good show to onlookers.

Pretty much all the blood in my body appeared to have congregated in a single location. I know she was feeling it pressed against her abdomen. She would have been feeling his, too, that night.

“I think it’s time to go upstairs,” I heard from somewhere off in the distance. It was Michelle’s voice.

I paid the tab for our drinks. What was in my thoughts was images. Images of my wife with Brett and feeling the fear, remembering the panic of that first night after she’d left, the agony and the jealousy toward the man who had taken my Michelle to his room that night while I was home alone, maybe the night I’d discovered the ‘game’ in her lingerie drawer.

But that was then, this was now. And I was about to relive that first night with my beautiful wife.

Inside our room, we kissed. I’d taken off my jacket and felt the hard nubbins of her nipples against my shirt. I was so fuckin’ ready for more!

She directed me to sit on the couch, loveseat, actually. She went to her suitcase, pulled out a couple small, portable speakers and connected them to her phone, turning on some music, “He asked me to dance for him, this was the song he put on.” It was soft, slow, seductive. No idea what or who, but it sure as hell matched the mood.

She began a slow, seductive dance in front of me, rubbing her hands against the silky material of her dress, occasionally pulling the hem up a few inches; her eyes closed, a look of pure lust on her face, moving gracefully on her heels. She used to rarely wear them, before that night she told me about Mike. Now, they’re a staple, seemingly, every pair sexier than the last.

She turned, facing the opposite wall, pulling her dress up a little higher – showing the lace at the top of her stockings. “I felt so… can’t even describe it… turned on, sexy, so… like a teenage virgin taking her clothes off for her first lover.”

One hand reached behind her, found the top of a zipper that I hadn’t even realized was there, pulled it down slowly, so slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Her dress opened, the back of her panties coming into view, her sexy ass. My cock was so friggin’ hard! She’d been teasing and tormenting me all evening. I ached to wrap my hand around myself and relieve the glorious agony.

She turned back toward me, her face flushed with desire, breasts and nipples straining at her dress, eyes open and watching me as she slipped the strap off her shoulder. I sat there, transfixed, turned on beyond all imagination, as she slipped her dress down – first one breast, then the other; nipples hard and swollen, for her lover to see.

“He told me how beautiful I was. I could see it in his face.”

Then the dress fell to the floor and she stood, inches away. Her black panties, totally sheer. “I wore the panties, because… I knew how much he’d enjoy taking them off. I knew because of that other night, in Seattle. You’ll enjoy, too. I did… and will.”

She stood, waiting. My fingers were shaking as I reached up, felt the soft skin of her hips. “His fingers were shaking, too. I knew… how much he wanted me, and I realized… the power I had.”

I worked my fingers underneath the satiny material of her panties and pulled them down, feeling that my cock might explode at any instant. If not the cum, simply unable to contain the ever-expanding steel rod.

Michelle was panting as I peeled her soaked panties down her stocking-clad legs. She lifted each foot, pushing both the dress and panties aside. “You can touch,” was all she said.

I did, running my hands up her hips, over her taut tummy, to the soft, bare skin of her wet pussy lips. Michelle groaned as I parted them just slightly and ran my forefinger between them. Her face was a study in concentration; eyes closed, mouth in an ‘O’.

I started to pull her forward, intending on a nipple in my lips when she stepped up on the couch and said, “Told me… not to come… wanted first time… with him inside me,” as she gripped my head and leaned her pussy into my mouth.

This time it was the scent of her sex that filled my senses, much more powerful than the perfume. And I swear, I’ll never get used to those baby-smooth, bare pussy lips!

My hands were around her butt cheeks, her legs spread apart, bent knees on the couch’s cushion on either side of my head. She let out a loud groan when my tongue pressed inside her lips. I was having my own hard time with my cock still constrained inside my slacks. I hadn’t dared to take it out because I knew what would happen if I had.

“First time feeling his lips there… didn’t do in Seattle…”

Michelle writhed and moaned, pressing herself against my mouth, “His lips…” I found her clit and sucked it into my mouth, “…oh god…”

This doesn’t feel like me. Not Michelle, my wife. I feel like a whole ‘nother guy, eating out a beautiful woman, a stranger, for the first time. She tastes different somehow. I realized we hadn’t done this since before she left, now nearly four months ago.

I’d taken the power back. The power she’d just said she had over ‘him’. She was groaning, whimpering, trying so hard not to come. I could tell she was reliving that night, after her five weeks of celibacy.

But I couldn’t do it much longer. The steel rod in my pants was screaming for attention, suffering. As this beautiful, frantic woman pressed herself into my mouth, my fumbling fingers trying to work my pants loose; the button, then the straining zipper was stuck. Maybe I haven’t taken back that power. Maybe it’s still hers.

The insane fear hit me; the scene in ‘There’s Something About Mary’, in high school where the hero – don’t remember his name, gets his dick caught in his zipper when going on a date with his dream girl.

But it didn’t. It finally came undone and I pushed my pants down around my legs. Then I was so thankful, no underwear to dispose of. I pushed my wife away from my mouth. If I’d had the power for a moment, it was gone. I was desperate to be inside her.

She acted just as desperate, sliding down my body and taking my steel rod in her hand. She let out a loud moan as she settled, sliding her pussy down, enveloping me inside her. I groaned from the incredible feeling, dizzy with the world spinning around me. “Sooo good!” I heard her say. Me, now? Or then… with him? “He came… couldn’t stop himself.” I surprised myself, figured I’d come as soon as I felt her incredible slickness, how tight she was around me.

My mouth was gaping open, Michelle’s naked breasts pressed against my shirt. Then her lips were on mine, almost in desperation. No, not ‘almost’. She ground her pussy down onto my pelvis and both our groans were muffled by each other’s lips. She pulled up, then back down again and I felt the cum start to rise, that incredible pre-orgasmic feeling.

And then I felt Michelle’s pussy tightening around me, her lips stiffening right before she threw her head back and a wail, drowned out by my own groans. Her freshly manicured fingernails scraping across my back through my shirt. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” Michelle began screaming, then totally unrecognizable noises.

And my orgasm exploded inside me. Any semblance of recognizing anything except the incredible strength of it escaped me totally. Michelle’s screams faded to the background and I have no idea what kind of noises I may have been making. Suffice it to say that, surprisingly, nobody pounded our door down to rescue us from each other.

When I could speak again, minutes later, the only thing I could think to say was, “That was…”

“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it,” she finished my thought.

When I stood, Michelle still wrapped around my mid-section, I tried to take a step and realized my pants were still wrapped around my legs, making me fall back onto the chair. Michelle started giggling and couldn’t stop. I was helpless with her on my lap, trying, unsuccessfully, to kick my pants off.

She finally managed to be able to talk in-between the giggles, “Brett did the same thing,” starting the giggles all over again.

She climbed off my lap so I could shed my pants and I watched her lay down on the bed, posing, propped up on her elbows with her legs open like it was a super-sexy, nude boudoir shoot. God, I wished I had thought to bring my camera! When we get home…

“You posed like that for Brett?” I asked her.

She answered by flicking her hair so that it fell across her face and gave me that smile that’s captivated me ever since that very first night at a basketball game and every other guy she’s met, probably since she was a little girl.

“He told me I was the hottest girl he’d ever been with. And from his look, I believed him, too.”

She watched me taking my shirt off, licking her lips like it was the most sensual thing she’d ever seen. The sight of her looking at me like that sure as hell didn’t dampen my libido. By the time I joined her on the bed, I was every bit as hard as a few minutes earlier.

My wife was naked on the bed, I was naked with her… and still horny as hell. “What did you do with Brett?” I asked her.

“Mmm,” she mumbled, scooting herself up, rubbing a nipple against my mouth, “we did this,” not having to work too hard to get my lips open. “It was the first time we did this, too,” moaning as I sucked her tit into my mouth. “That first time, in Seattle, all we did… was fuck.”

I’ve mentioned before how sensitive Michelle’s nipples and breasts are and tonight sure as hell wasn’t an exception. As I sucked, wrapping my arms around her back and pulling her tighter in my mouth, she moaned anew, obviously enjoying my attention to her breast. Her legs were spread apart, humping her wet sex against my chest.

Not for long, though. She turned around, putting herself in a 69 position, lowering her pussy to my mouth and rubbing my manhood with her hands before I felt her lips begin to replace her hands, sinking lower and lower.

God, her warm lips felt so good! And it was the first time we’d done this so soon after I’d come inside her. The taste of my cum intermingled with hers would have already been a huge turn-on, even without my cock in her mouth. She pressed her pussy down so that it was almost hard to breathe at the same time as she swallowed my cock into her throat. If I hadn’t come so soon before, I’d already be coming in her mouth.

Michelle was just as excited as I was, grinding her pussy on my mouth, my tongue doing its best to reach inside her when she rolled off me and breathlessly told me, “Fuck me, love, just like Brett did.”

I didn’t know how he had, but did know what I wanted to do. It was past time. I turned around and rolled over on top of her, driving my cock into her and smothering her groans with my mouth on hers. I pistoned my cock in and out of her, thankful for that hard orgasm earlier, giving me the stamina to do this without coming almost immediately.

Michelle’s knees were bent, spread far apart, still wearing her heels and stockings. By then, there was an almost continuous wail coming from her mouth, growing louder every time I thrust deep inside her. The thought briefly went through my mind that if it’s like this with me, what the hell would it have been like with Brett driving his cock into her?

I’ll say right up front that the next few minutes were damn well worth the two weeks of misery. Hell, it would have been worth a year of suffering!

By the time our orgasms had let up, both our bodies were slick with sweat and I was exhausted, barely able to breathe. Michelle, too, was having trouble catching her breath. Maybe it had been even better for her with Brett, but I didn’t see how.

“I’d dreamed about that night, what it was going to be like,” Michelle said after we’d lain in bed for a few minutes. She rolled over on her side to look at me, “It was… even more…” Another long hesitation, “I don’t know how to explain it, was all a dream come true, a fantasy beyond belief… the whole trip, but especially that first night.

“And tonight, telling you… showing you… was, I think… even better.”

She wrapped her arms around me and we held each other. It had been a long, stressful, erotic day and it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes later, with a smile on my face, that I was asleep.

We made love again in the morning, with me spooning against Michelle’s back and her leg thrown over my waist, my cock buried inside her. Exactly like I remembered imagining one of the nights she was gone, the night I’d discovered the picture of Brett tucked away in her lingerie drawer… her little game of hide and seek, that had been my source of comfort… while nearly driving me out of my mind with jealousy.

Then again in the shower, squeezing both of us into the little three-foot square stall, Michelle’s face pressed against the stall’s wall, me behind her, driving my cock into her…

Later that morning, after our free hotel breakfast, we were back in the Miata on our way home, with me watching Michelle’s beautiful, blond hair blowing in the wind once again, no more mystery about that first night.