Maggie s Secret s Secret
- 3 years ago
- 65
- 0
Deep Secret Ch. 09 – Asset free porn video
At the risk of stereotyping, I’ll state: men don’t discuss relationships. Sports, women, alcoholic beverages, cars, yes. Relationships, not so much. Depending on individual life situations you could throw in kids, the house, issues with parents and their care (or their meddling), in-laws, kids’ colleges and tuitions, the wife (the Missus, the old ball and chain…), financial issues, jobs, the exes (or possibly their restraining orders), commutes, and, of course, the best route from point A to point B.
Maybe you could add movies, TV shows, hotties (both current and former), and bands.
And, thus, I slept in on that Sunday morning alone in our bed, thinking about Amanda and Simone. Amanda, my lovely wife of well more than a decade, was at the moment on her way to her parents to pick up our kids. The night before we’d returned from a terrific vacation in Hawaii. We were relaxed and refreshed. We’d had some great sex overlooking lush forests on one side and overlooking the Pacific on the other. It was wonderful. I was a lucky man. Our life was satisfying, stable, and there wasn’t much we lacked in almost any sense.
Nevertheless, I still had a small but empty place inside of me. I still had that what if feeling. For a long time the memories of Simone had not been near the surface. But they had arisen just as we’d left for the vacation a couple of weeks ago. Memories so vivid I could smell her, see her smile, her body, feel her skin, her tongue, her lips.
So it was I recalled that late Friday night after a great meal, exciting and even unexpected sex, and a night of revelations.
Both of us were exhausted by the time we got into bed. Between Simone and her amazing sexual talents plus some more of my favorite porn videos of all time I had had one more orgasm that night, making it four since after dinner.
For her part, I think Simone had pretty much just one orgasm that started in the elevator on the way up to my place and – except for a short discussion about the exploitative nature of pornography and our conflicted feelings about it – ended just a few minutes ago. This young woman was a walking, talking sex goddess. Yet, she was incredibly smart, motivated, sensitive, and loving. Also, lest I forget to mention it, she was pretty with high cheekbones and a toothpaste commercial smile and had breasts that were way, way too large for her lean, long and strong body.
So, what the fuck was she doing here with this schlub, me?
Deciding that was not the way to a happy life – i.e., focusing on the negatives – I put my arms around her, crossing my arms, with one hand resting on each breast. Her soft, smooth, and very firm butt felt so good against my lower abs, hips, and thighs. The smell of her shampoo in my nose.
I was in heaven.
She interrupted my reverie with a simple statement with weighty implications.
‘I don’t ever want to be someone’s trophy wife.’
That was it. Out of the blue, in the silence of my darkened bedroom, she just put that out there. It wasn’t said in anger or frustration or even with any doubt that she could be.
My immediate response was going to be to say something like, ‘Why would you say that?’
Then rethinking what I was going to say, I thought about a simple, ‘Oh, you’re too smart for that.’
However, maybe she was looking for support both for her not being that because she was so smart, but at the same time wanting confirmation that she was a babe with the physical attributes of potentially being a trophy wife.
The more I got to know her, the more I had to think about what to say when she got into areas of feelings and emotions. This was so not guy stuff – and I was just that: a guy, a dumb, naturally sex-focused, goal-oriented guy.
Fortunately, Simone, after a few moments of (on my part, terrified of saying the wrong thing) silence, she spoke.
‘I may be young, but I’ve lived quite a life, one that most people only see in movies. I’ve learned a great deal about people.
‘You see, Ed, people change, life changes them.’
Knowing that more was coming, I kept quiet, slightly stroking her boobs, the movement evoking an automatic hum of contentment from my bedmate.
‘An old James Bond movie was on TV the other night,’ she said. ‘I only caught a few minutes of it, but I think it was Goldfinger. A very young Connery, Sean Connery, was playing Bond, James Bond. In this scene he’s getting some champagne for a female he’s about to seduce. He says something like ‘Dom Pérignon ’53 should not be served when the temperature is above [something] degrees. That’s like listening to The Beatles without earmuffs!’
‘Can you imagine? I looked it up and that movie came out in 1964 when The Beatles were huge, well, they were pretty much always huge, but that was the year when they first came to America and had several songs in the top ten, I think. And, yet, here in a pop culture movie – one which no one really thought would ever become a ‘classic’ – are both an actor who broke his James Bond mold as well as the mention of a pop group who were perceived as no more than just another British Invasion band. Now, decades later, in one form or another they’ve evolved, morphed, and grown into things no one could have imagined in 1964.’
Wow! Where did this come from? This all began when she broke the silence with her initial statement about not wanting to be a trophy wife.
It confirmed my reactive resolution was absolutely right: not saying a word was definitely the way to go. This was not the time to even guess which direction her thoughts were taking. Anything I’d venture would be dead wrong. Count on it.
A few moments later she said, ‘I’ve seen too many cases where men are turkeys. I’m not including you, of course,’ she added, pressing my hands with one hand and reaching down between her legs to let my tired but slightly tumescent prick snuggle in, surrounded by her taut thighs and delicious pussy.
‘My point is that when men get older and rich, they want younger, more physically attractive wives. Well, maybe that’s true whether they get rich or not. But many men still ache when they look at hot young things, even when they’re in a good marriage. When they have the means, though, they either get it on the side, like an administrative assistant or some other female sycophant-type. Or, they simply have the proverbial and relatively male-only ‘mid-life crisis,’ dump the wife who’s raised their kids, cleaned their house, supported them in everything by letting them go out and make money. Then they buy the sports car, the yacht, the house at the lake, the jet, whatever, and eventually start dating younger ‘trophy’ women. Well, I don’t want to be one of those!’
She shifted a little. I kissed the back of her neck and nibbled on her ear. She purred and it appeared to calm her a little.
‘Listen, Ed, I know that people look at me when I walk into a room. Hell, I’ve seen men drive off the road when I’ve been out running or cycling. I don’t think I’m that great to look at, but apparently others do. I get stared at all the time, you know. We’ve talked about it.
‘It’s that I want to make something of myself so that I’m not just a ‘babe.’ Looks fade and men will always be staring at and yearning for the newer models, just like cars. That will happen to me too one day.
‘But, I want to have my own life and my own career. I don’t want to be a gewgaw on a man’s arm, like a Rolex, something for him to show off. I know I want something more – and I know I have to go back to school to start to look for that.’
She was hitting so many of the things I knew were true about her, I was almost at a loss for words. However, I knew it was my turn to say something. ‘Hey,’ I said to her, ‘you know, I think that’s a great idea. Weren’t you going to stop by school to get their schedule of classes for the spring?’
‘Yeah, I did and I don’t know how I’m going to do it,
but I’m going to try to take a full credit load and continue to work. It’ll be hard, I know, but I’ve got to try it, at least for one semester and see how it goes. I don’t have a lot of confidence that I will succeed, but I’ll see.’
‘Are you sure you want to jump in with both feet like that? Why not just take one or maybe two classes and see?’
‘Each semester I delay is a semester longer I have until I get my degree.’
I had to admit I agreed with that. I felt the same way about my MBA. I couldn’t wait until it was over. It seemed to be taking forever, but the truth was I’d be done next May.
The last thing I remember was Simone hugging me with my dick buried in her groin.
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