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For Mark

By: Ingenue_79



This is a true account of events that occurred a few years ago when I was dating Mark; a wonderful man that I'd met at a mutual friend's wedding in Sydney.

When we met I was twenty-four, a single girl from Adelaide. I had recently graduated from University and was in my first year of teaching. Mark was thirty-two, tall, handsome, well educated, intelligent, witty and well connected. He was an architect - and rich. Unbelievably he was single and available.

He was almost too good to be true and everything my father would have wanted for his only daughter. In fact he may have been "the one" for me, but nature intervened and I realised it could never be.

This is a true story, only Mark is not his real name. When he reads the story I am sure he will know who he is. I hope he doesn't think too badly of me.

When you have read "For Mark" please vote and leave your comments on Literotica. I appreciate you letting me know what you think of my stories - even if you don't like them.

Ingenue

xx

Through the foggy haze of sleep I felt the sheet slip from my shoulders and slide down over my bare body, coming to rest across the backs of my thighs just below on my firm, tight butt.

The caress of the cool night air on my naked flesh was delightful, but I was mildly annoyed that, as usual, Mark was hogging all the bedclothes.

"Mark!" I hissed softly in sleepy protest.

He stirred briefly, but the only response was the sound of steady, rhythmical breathing coming from his side of the bed.

I opened my eyes and in the soft glow of the full moon saw him lying on his back, sound asleep.

Behind me the bedroom window of our apartment was open and the warm tropical breeze stirred the curtains casting shadows on the opposite wall, the images resembling lovers performing some erotic, sensuous ritual.

Mark hadn't actually stolen the bedclothes; rather, in his sleep he had pushed them to the end of the bed leaving him uncovered and me with the sheet just below my waist. Like me he was naked.

I watched him as he slept, taking the opportunity to admire his naked body. He was one hundred ninety three centimetres tall, weighed around one hundred and ten kilograms and had the build of an elite athlete. Through his mid to late twenties he had represented Victoria at the National Rowing Championships, only just missing out on a place in our Olympic Team for the games in Sydney in 2000. Even now at thirty-two he still rowed competitively, although not at the elite level. He trained regularly and worked out in the gym and it showed. He was lean; there was hardly an ounce of fat on him. He was exactly how he appeared, strong, muscular and very fit.

Compared to him I am tiny, although for a woman I'm above average height. I'm one hundred and sixty eight centimetres tall, weigh fifty-two kilograms and next to him my slim body looked fragile and almost childlike. Not that I minded, in fact it was something that appealed to me and I enjoyed it when he was by my side. When he took me in his arms and held me, his wide shoulders, broad chest and strong arms totally engulfed me and made me feel safe and secure. It was a nice feeling and one that I will never forget.

As he slept, his chest rose and fell and his hard, flat stomach seemed to ripple with each breath. Lying flat against his stomach was his uncircumcised penis. Even soft and limp it was quite big. He had recently allowed me to shave his pubic hair to match my own bald pussy, and it made his cock and balls appear even larger and more prominent.

The dull ache between my legs reminded me of how only an hour or so earlier that same cock had been hard and erect and buried deep inside me. Erect it was big - not exactly huge, but very thick, and long enough to stretch and fill me completely. It was a nice feeling having him inside me, pounding my cunt.

Fucking him was good. I loved the way he reacted when I contracted the muscles in my vagina, squeezing him - and when he came, I especially liked that. His body would tense and he would stop breathing. In the instant before he ejaculated, I swear I could feel his cock swell inside me - maybe it was just my imagination, but I would squeeze again, hard, as hard as I could. Then he would withdraw for the final time - I could tell it was the final time, as he would ram his cock deep into my cunt then let out a roar like a wounded lion and fill me with his cum. I could feel it spurting into me, drenching me, flooding me, filling me and overflowing. Afterwards I hold him and wait. Wait while his pounding heart slowed, his ragged breathing returned to something closer to normal and I felt his penis begin to shrink inside me. Oh yes I did like that.

With these pleasant thoughts I reached down and grabbed the edge of the sheet, pulled it over my back, up to my shoulders and settled down to go back to sleep.

As I drifted towards unconsciousness I thought back to the time we first met. It had been about six months before in Sydney at David and Fiona's wedding. We were the only two singles there and at the reception he had swept me off my feet, and we'd been dating ever since.

Mark and David had been friends since they were children living next door to each other in South Toorak, one of Melbourne's more affluent suburbs, and I had met David later when he'd moved to Adelaide to study Law at University.

After graduating, David had gone to live in Sydney to work with a law firm in the city where he met Fiona who was a graphic designer. After a short courtship they had become engaged, and just a few months later surprised us all by getting married.

The wedding was beautiful. There were only about thirty guests, but what it lacked in size it made up for in style. It was in January and the day was warm and sunny, the setting in a private garden at Potts Point was perfect and the bride was beautiful. Fiona had chosen a simple, white, sleeveless dress that accentuated her slim figure and highlighted her golden tan and thick shoulder-length blonde hair. It was like the scene out of a movie, and after the ceremony the fantasy continued as all the guests were taken by limousine to the Sydney Harbour for a twilight cruise.

As we boarded the boat we were served French Champagne in chilled glasses that were coated on the outside with frosty condensation. Occasionally, tiny droplets formed and ran down the side of the glass, leaving a clear streak then running down the stem and across the base before falling with a gentle splash to the deck.

As we all chatted and sipped our champagne, the bride and groom were away having photographs taken on the steps of the Sydney Opera House, at The Rocks and underneath Sydney Harbour Bridge. The sun was low in the western sky that was starting to take on an orange hue, a prelude to setting of the sun and made a perfect setting. I've seen the photos since, and they are truly the most gorgeous wedding photos I have ever seen.

I was the out-of-town girl at the wedding, the only one from Adelaide and, I thought, the only one there without a partner. As far as I knew everyone else was a Sydney friend of David and Fiona.

To keep it simple and to save people the expense of travelling long distances, they had decided to get married in Sydney and were going to repeat the ceremony and have another celebration the following week in Melbourne, where both their families and most of David's friends lived. 

As I stood making small talk with a group of guests, I noticed a guy standing on his own by the railing at the opposite side of the boat. I hadn't seen him at the wedding, but he must have been there somewhere. I don't know how I could have missed him because he was very striking, tall, well built and handsome.

He was holding a glass of wine that he sipped occasionally and he was looking at me. He caught my eye and held my gaze. He smiled, raised his glass in silent greeting before taking another sip, and then he turned away to lean on the rail, apparently gazing out over the shimmering water of Australia's most famous and beautiful harbour.

From behind he was simply magnificent. His broad shoulders and strong muscular back filled his tailored suit jacket to its limits. His bum was small and tight yet it completely filled his trousers so that the material was stretched tight and smooth across his perfect butt.

As I watched him he seemed a little awkward and perhaps a bit uneasy, as though uncomfortable and constrained to be wearing a suit and tie. I imagined perhaps he would be more at home in a t-shirt and board shorts, and smiled to myself at the thought of him dressed far more casually, or perhaps not at all.

I walked over and stood beside him, not saying anything, just standing next to him, sharing and enjoying the view and the fantastic Champagne.

He turned towards me, smiled and said simply, "Hi. Beautiful isn't it?"

He turned back to look out across the harbour and I had a chance to look at him close up for the first time. He was tall with dark curly hair and the build and relaxed stance of an elite athlete. He was handsome in a rugged, masculine way, with strong features and his eyes were bright blue, soft, yet intelligent and strong. They were the first thing that I'd noticed when I'd seen him across the other side of the boat, and I noticed them again briefly when he had turned to speak to me. They flashed and sparkle and I think they were what had drawn me to him in the first instance. I couldn't wait for him to look at me so that I could see them again.

"Yes," I replied. "It is magnificent."

With those few words it started. From that moment we were inseparable and spent the entire evening together. He was a witty and entertaining companion and as the evening progressed I found myself succumbing to his charm. I discovered that he lived in Melbourne, was thirty-two, worked as an architect and had made a lot of money through property investment and development. He had married in his early twenties, but the marriage hadn't lasted long and since then he'd remained a very committed, even if a very eligible, bachelor.

He had come up to the wedding in Sydney because he had business there and had another previous commitment that prevented him from going to the re-enactment the following Saturday in Melbourne.

Looking back at it now, I can see that the other guests at the reception probably thought we were quite rude as we spent all the evening talking to each other to the exclusion of everyone else. For us that night it was if no one else existed.

After the reception we went to a bar for drinks, and before I knew it we were walking in back to my hotel hand in hand as the sun was beginning to rise in the eastern sky. He kissed me and we said our good nights, or more correctly good mornings, and I went to bed for a few hours sleep but not before agreeing to cancel my flight back to Adelaide the next day so that we could spend more time together.

That day and night passed quickly. We had lunch at Darling Harbour, took the ferry to Manly and walked hand in hand along the beach, around the point to Freshwater and swam in the pool at his hotel. That afternoon we made love in his room. In the evening we dined at one of Sydney's finest restaurants then made love again - three times. Once in his room, then later in the hotel spa and finally out on the balcony in the moonlight. We collapsed into bed about five in the morning, exhausted but very happy, and slept until around ten the next day when we did it again, this time more slowly and with less urgency.

It was the first time I had made love to a man since I was eighteen and was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. My first and only other experience with a guy was just after I finished high school and it was not all that pleasant. Since then my only partners had been female and I had been starting to think I was a committed lesbian - but well, maybe not after all.

Since the wedding and that wonderful weekend in Sydney we had been taking it in turns to visit each other every weekend and things were getting serious. I was even contemplating moving to Melbourne to live so that we could be closer and would not have the inconvenience and expense of travelling every weekend. Shit! Commitment and maybe even marriage were somewhere on the horizon. It was all quite scary.

Unfortunately there were not many opportunities to see David and Fiona after the wedding, and when they suggested we join them in Port Douglas, in tropical north Queensland, for a week's holiday we both jumped at the chance. We arranged it for a time in the school holidays, and after many weeks of anticipation we were finally there.

We were staying in a two-bedroom apartment. Mark and I had one of the bedrooms and David and Fiona the other. At first I was a bit doubtful about sharing, but as the week progressed, so did our friendship and we had a wonderful time.

We had been there for six days and it was our last day. Sadly we were all booked on flights to go home the following day. The weather had been perfect all week and that day was no exception. It was great to get away from the cold Adelaide winter and to be in the sun again, and it was great to be able to spend some time with Fiona and David and in particular to get to know Fiona better.

Just before I had fallen asleep I recalled the events of the day. We had taken a cruise to the Great Barrier Reef and spent the day sun baking, swimming, snorkelling and scuba diving. When we got back the four of us had gone out to dinner at a well-known restaurant in Port Douglas to celebrate our last night together. We dined outside under huge canvas sails and ate the most magnificent seafood while the warm tropical rain drummed gently on the roof above us. It was the perfect ending to a fabulous week.

Afterwards, back in our hotel, Mark and I made love. We were both very horny and as soon as we got inside the door we fucked. Usually he was a great lover but that night the sex was disappointing. There was no foreplay; I certainly didn't need it, as I was wet and ready for him. In some ways the whole day had been one long extended session of foreplay. 

On the boat and out at the Reef we had been flirting and touching each other, and at one stage while we were snorkelling, Mark had swum up to me in the water, pulled my bikini bottoms aside and fingered me. As we struggled playfully in the water, he undid and pulled off my bikini top then, much to the delight of the others, swam back to the boat and with some ridiculous ceremony presented it to Fiona who had been sitting on the deck watching.

I was not at all embarrassed and in fact enjoyed displaying my naked breasts to the twenty or so people who were on the boat watching. I loved the feeling of the water on my breasts and was aroused by being exposed and the attention that drew from the spectators. I was enjoying myself and was in no hurry for it to end, but after a short while I started to get tired. I swam to the side of the boat, climbed the ladder and, accompanied by a small round of applause and a few whistles; I walked over to Fiona to retrieve my top.

Not wanting to be left out of the action, Fiona insisted that she was going to put it on me herself. She made me turn around to face the crowd then stepped up behind me, placed the bikini on my breasts, giving them a small discreet squeeze in the process and then with a flourish retied the straps.

There was more applause from the spectators. I bowed to the appreciative crowd and as I moved to walk away, Fiona put her arms around me, pulled me close and whispered so that only I could hear.

"Very sexy honey, I could just eat you at the moment."

She released me, gave me a gentle push and a small pat on the bum as I walked away. I glanced back at her, she smiled, winked and I was sure I saw her tongue dart out briefly and run slowly across her full, sensuous lips.

Then it was all over. I had loved the attention and thoroughly enjoyed the public display of affection and mild exhibitionism. As I walked back to where Mark was standing, smirking with a very satisfied look on his face, I noticed dampness between my legs and knew it wasn't entirely due to having just been swimming. I was wet and I could feel my pussy lips rubbing together, slippery with my own juices. 

As I stood and talked to Mark, I looked across at Fiona. It was probably the first time that I had really noticed how attractive and sexy she was. She was quite tall - maybe a centimetre or two taller than me - very attractive, with a slim, curvy figure, thick, shoulder-length blonde hair and a great tan. She was wearing a very brief, light blue, halter neck bikini. Unlike me she had large firm breasts, generous hips and a narrow waist, and she attracted the attention of almost every guy on the boat. Young or old they all stopped to look when she walked past, and I noticed that some who were sitting with their wives or girlfriends were discreetly perving on her, although others were not so discreet and just blatantly stared. I have quite small breasts, a narrow waist, and a flat belly, narrow hips and a small tight butt. I am pretty well straight up and down, and compared to her I must have looked like a skinny young girl, especially with my hair wet and no make up. 

Eventually the day came to an end. With everyone on board, the crew weighed anchor and we set off on the hour or so journey back to Port Douglas. On the return journey the guys stood at the back of the boat watching the reef fade gradually into the distance, while Fiona and I sat together in the bow with the breeze in our faces chatting and watching the sun set on the horizon ahead.

We were like a couple of teenagers and mostly we talked about sex. I really did not know her all that well, having only met her for the first time at their wedding, but I found myself telling her the most intimate details about my sex life. I heard myself talking about sex with Mark and also about my previous relationships and sex with Anna and Carol. In turn she told be about sex with David and about some of her fantasies. She confessed that when she had first met Mark she fantasised about having sex with him, and that sometimes when David was fucking her she fantasised about another woman joining them in a threesome. 

Our conversation and sitting close to her on the boat was getting me very aroused. At one point she moved and our thighs touched. I thought it was accidental but she made no effort to move away and I enjoyed the warmth and the sensation of her smooth skin against my own. Later she put her arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to whisper something, and as she did, her lips briefly brushed my ear. Each time she touched me I felt small surges of pleasure course like electricity through my body going straight to my loins, causing a tingling sensation that made me want to squirm.

Later at the restaurant I could sense a tension between us. When we finished and said goodnight we kissed, but there was nothing unusual about that except this time her kiss lingered for just a bit longer than usual and I felt her tongue snake out between her lips and gently caress my cheek. As we moved apart, her hand brushed my breast and she smiled at me. It was a smile that clearly said more than simply good night and I was a little embarrassed and confused. As I walked away with Mark, I raised my hand to my cheek to wipe away the telltale patch of moisture in case he might see it there and I didn't want to have to try to explain.

Fuck, I needed Mark to screw me. I was so hot and needed to come badly. The second we got back to our apartment and were in our bedroom I had him up against the wall, tearing at his clothes. In no time we were both naked and he turned me around to face him, picked me up, pushed me back against the wall, lifted me up and slid his hard cock into me. His arms were hooked under my knees, my feet were off the ground and I was impaled on his manhood. He was fucking me but I needed more.


For Mark



Standing up was good but I wanted him deeper, so tightened my grip around his neck and lifted myself up and off his cock. Once I had my feet back on the ground I pushed him away then grabbed his arm and dragged him, protesting, to the bed. I got on my back and pulled him on top of me. In seconds he was inside me again his massive body nailing me to the bed, his cock ramming in and out of my aching pussy. I could feel him deep inside me and I adjusted my position slightly to change the angle and spread my legs a little more so I could take every inch of his hot, hard cock.

I could tell he was getting close to coming but I didn't want him to. Not yet anyway. I struggled to a half sitting position and tried to push him off but he was too big and strong, his massive bulk and his cock had me pinned.

I slapped at him and tried to push him away, shouting at him to get off me, telling him I wanted to get on top of him. I knew I could control it better that way. I couldn't let him come just yet. I wanted an orgasm and I wanted it while he was inside me, fucking me. It had never happened before. Yes that's right, I used to think I was the only twenty-four-year-old woman on the planet never to have had an orgasm with a man while actually having sex. Sure I had come with Mark inside me but only when I was on top of him and used my own fingers to masturbate myself to climax. And in my book that wasn't the same, it just didn't count. I know better now. I know that I am not the only woman like that, but then I was more naive and it was important to me; it was like a test that I had to pass to prove to myself that I was a real woman.

Eventually he got the message and rolled off me, flopping back onto the bed. He lay there waiting, his erect cock wet and shiny with my juices, pointing straight up, ready for me. Without hesitation I straddled him, reached behind, took his cock in my hand and guided it into my waiting slit. I felt it slide in. I shifted back a little, leaned forward a touch and took him deep inside, so deep that I felt the big bulbous head hit against my cervix. Fuck, it felt good, and from the grin on his face I guessed he liked it too.

We fucked for ages but it was no good; I knew I wasn't going to come. Mark, bless his heart, was as usual, patient and considerate. I know he wanted me to have an orgasm almost as much as I did and he held back as long as he could, but I could tell he was getting frustrated and tired. It had been a busy day after all and we had been going for ages.

Finally, I sensed he was getting close again so I reached behind and stroked his balls, forced myself on his cock so that every delicious inch of it was engulfed by my hot cunt, and contracted the muscles in my vagina. It was too much for him. After being on the brink for so long he just couldn't hold back any longer. He grabbed my waist and bodily lifted me up, allowing him room to slide his cock part way out of my slippery, wet cunt preparing for the final plunge. He paused, just for a fraction of a second then rammed it back in again with such force that I felt it would go right through me. I squeezed again and his whole body tensed, his face contorted in ecstasy and he roared. I felt his cock pulsing in me and was rewarded with a gush of semen that filled me and seeped out around his cock, coating his balls and dribbling onto the bed.

We lay locked together for a few minutes while we regained our breath then he rolled off me, collapsed on the bed and in seconds was asleep. As usual I had not come and the persistent tingling in my loins was a poignant reminder of my unfulfilled desire. 

I got out of bed, went into the bathroom and had a hot shower. I was very tempted to play with myself as I often did after sex with Mark, but I was determined that my next orgasm would be from his cock and not my fingers. I may not have been rational but I was thinking that if I could hold on until the morning I would be so horny and ready that I would surely come when we fucked again.

That's how the night ended and it was the last thing I remember before I drifted off to sleep once more, but it only seemed that I had been asleep for a few minutes when I felt the sheet move again.

Shit, this was just too much. As I reached out to grab it and pull it back up again, a hand caught my wrist and stopped me. Then I felt another hand gently caress my back, beginning between my shoulder blades, sliding down to the small of my back, then coming to rest just above my butt. The hand moved again and I felt one finger slowly make its way along the crack between the cheeks of my ass, gently, but purposefully forcefully its way between them, seeking out my tender hole. It paused briefly to run around the rim before continuing, then lightly brushing across the tiny area of sensitive skin between by bum and my slit. My reaction to the stimulus was automatic, I raised my hips off the bed offering myself and making myself available for more.

"Good old Mark," I thought.

I figured that after a short nap he was ready to go again. Maybe I would get my wish fulfilled after all and finally have that orgasm I so desperately needed.

I turned my head slightly to look in his direction and opened my eyes. I was surprised at what I saw and in my sleepy state it took a few moments for my brain to register what my eyes were seeing. He was lying on his side with his back to me, fast asleep.

I was momentarily stunned then I sensed movement and heard a small sound behind me. I turned my head quickly in the opposite direction and in the moonlight saw Fiona. She was naked and kneeling by the side of the bed. In the few moments that it had taken for this to happen, her fingers had not faltered in their travels and she now was gently rubbing my smooth bare pussy. 

She smiled and whispered, "Hello darling. So who's a horny girl tonight?"

I was about to protest when she leant forward and gently kissed me on the lips. Her fingers were still working their magic on my slit and I turned towards her, rolling over onto my side, a change in position that unfortunately forced her move her hand. I rolled quickly onto my back hoping I had not broken the spell and that she would start playing with me again, soon. She kissed me on the lips, more forcefully and more passionately this time, her hard, hot tongue forcing its way between my lips and into my mouth. I received it gladly, sucking it, welcoming her and letting her know it was all right.

In an instant her fingers were back at my pussy. At their first touch I spread my legs for her, I realised I wanted this badly. My feelings from that afternoon on the boat and later in the evening at the restaurant all came flooding back. It wasn't Mark I needed and it certainly wasn't a man's cock. I realised that for all those months, what I had been missing was the love of another woman. Her soft lips, her smooth skin, her loving embrace, her fragrance and in particular her delicate fingers and wet tongue on my aching breasts and throbbing clit.

Fiona's mouth was still pressed against mine when I felt my orgasm start. It had literally only been a few seconds, a minute at the most, and she had me right on the brink. She knew it too and broke our kiss and smiled at me.

"Yes I know baby," she said. "This is what you want isn't it?" I've known it all afternoon. I could tell from the way you were looking at me on the boat and the way you trembled when I touched you. I knew you were wet and wanted me."

She'd slowed down and lightened the strokes, and was just gently circling my clit with her finger tips, taking care not to touch it directly, holding me on the edge. She was teasing me and I whimpered a little.

She smiled again and whispered, "Are you ready?"

It was a rhetorical question, she knew I was ready but I murmured and nodded my assent anyway.

I felt her slide one finger inside me and with her other hand she went form making the small circles around my clit to rubbing it back and forth. She seemed to know just how I liked it, with the flat part of two of her fingers, slowly at first then increasing the pressure and pace. In a few seconds I was coming. She pressed her lips to mine and forced her tongue into my mouth to muffle my cries.

They were not screams of lust but cries of ecstasy, of joy, of happiness, of satisfaction and complete fulfilment. In just those few minutes, Fiona had done what Mark had been unable to do in an hour or so of good hard fucking. In fact he had not been able to do it in six months of fucking. It was then that I knew that my desire for another woman was more than just a passing fad and my thoughts went immediately to Donna.

Fiona stayed with me while I came down from my peak and while I drifted off into a deep and contented sleep. As she left the room I thought I heard another voice, the voice of a man, deep yet soft, somewhere in the distance, and I think I heard Fiona reply but I was too far gone to really be sure.

In the morning I awoke before Mark, feeling refreshed and alive. It was the best I had felt for months.

I got out of bed quietly and picked up my bathers, crept quietly out of the room and closed the door. The apartment was quiet and David and Fiona's door was shut so I assumed they were still asleep. I put on my bikini, went to the fridge, got a bottle of water, went out the door and down to the pool.

It was early. Although the sky was starting to get light the sun was still below the horizon and I had the whole pool to myself. I stood on the edge, briefly contemplating the events of the past night, then took a deep breath and dived into the water. The water was cold and at first it took my breath away but I quickly got used to it and found it and refreshing and invigorating. I swam a few laps, allowing the cool water to flow across and around my body, cleansing and making me feel whole again.

I swam to the edge of the pool took of my bikini top and pushed off the side again for a few more laps, enjoying the freedom and sensation of the water over my bare breasts and my aching nipples.

As I swam I thought about Mark. Maybe I'd been a bit harsh on him. I guess it wasn't entirely his fault that I couldn't reach orgasm through straight intercourse. Actually it probably was more my problem than his.

I thought about Fiona. Needless to say she was bisexual and I wondered if David knew.

I thought about Donna back in Adelaide, sweet, beautiful Donna. We'd been friends for years, ever since I met her at the local tennis club when I was fourteen. She was older than me but we became great friends and still are. She is single and we occasionally go out to dinner, to a movie or dancing together - just as friends. Sometimes I get the feeling that it could be more than just a good friendship but I've never been prepared to take the risk. I found myself looking forward to getting home and seeing her again. Maybe I would stay home and not go to Melbourne to see Mark next weekend as we had planned. It was about time I went down to see everyone at the tennis club and maybe even start playing tennis again myself.

With this thought I swam to the side of the pool and climbed out. I picked up my bikini top and walked over to get my towel. As I did, two young guys came around the corner in their bathers and carrying towels, obviously on their way for a swim. When they saw me standing there topless they almost stopped in their tracks. I guess it was not what they were expecting to see that early in the morning. I deliberately took my time getting dried just to let them have a good look, then slowly made my way back to our apartment. As I left the pool area I glanced back and noticed that they still hadn't made it into the pool but were sitting on the edge on the opposite side, watching me. I'm sure one of them had an erection that he tried to quickly cover by laying his towel across his lap. I smiled and waved to them and walked away. I didn't bother putting my top back on - I didn't see much point.

I opened the door and went inside. Fiona was up and in the kitchen making coffee. She was standing with her back to me, wearing just a short black singlet top that left her gorgeous round butt exposed. Her hair was messy and she looked incredibly sexy and very fuckable. It seemed the guys were still in bed.

She turned as I entered and walked over to give me a hug.

"Good morning honey," she said. "How are you this morning?"

She gently cupped my breast in her hand and kissed me. This time it was not the usual gentle good morning kiss on the cheek. She kissed me on the lips and I responded without hesitation, our tongues entwining, and it was like the night before; instantly all the same feelings and yearnings came flooding back.

Finally I broke the kiss and between pants managed to gasp, "Great thanks Fiona, and thanks for last night. It was wonderful."

"You're more than welcome any time baby. Maybe next time you can return the favour?"

I just smiled. I hoped there would be a next time and if there were, I'd certainly be more than happy to comply with her request.

As she turned to walk back to the kitchen she said, "Oh, by the way, David certainly enjoyed what he saw. When we got back to bed we had fantastic sex, by far the best we've had in ages."

I was staggered. Then I remembered the voices I heard when Fiona had left my bedroom as I was drifting off to sleep.

"Fiona, are you saying what I think you are saying?"

She turned and smiled. "Yes honey, he watched the whole thing. Didn't you know he was standing by the door the whole time, and he just loved it? He was so horny he just couldn't wait to get me back into our room and fuck my brains out. I hope we didn't disturb you."

It took me a little while to digest this new piece information and I wasn't really sure what to think. I was very aroused at the thought of David watching us last night. It was something I'd never experienced before, but maybe it wouldn't be the last time.

As if she was reading my thoughts, Fiona said, "After David fucked me we talked about it. I said I'd ask you if it was okay if he joined us next time."

Now that was something I'd really have to think about.

I walked over to her and gently kissed the back of her neck. "Maybe, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

I turned and walked away. I went into the bathroom, had a shower and got my clothes and dressed.

Mark woke up a little later and we had breakfast, but it wasn't the same. Thankfully it was the last day of our holiday and I was catching a plane back to Adelaide early that afternoon. I packed my things and we went for our last walk along the beach. I am sure he could tell something was wrong but he didn't say anything. I just didn't know what to say to him or at least if I did, I just couldn't.

He took me to the airport and we said our good byes. He was catching a later flight direct to Melbourne and as we parted I promised I'd call him the next day.

I got on the plane and my head was spinning with every thing that had just happened. I settled back in my seat and as we took off my thoughts turned again to Donna. Thankfully, I fell asleep before we'd reached cruising altitude.

I didn't wake up until we touched down in Adelaide. I went home, threw my things in the corner, crawled into my own snug bed and fell immediately asleep. I was completely exhausted both physically and mentally, and the refuge of sleep was the only thing for me.

I did call Mark the following day and we talked for a while, but the intimacy was gone. I had moved on and my mind was somewhere else. I made some lame excuse why I couldn't go to Melbourne the next weekend. I don't think he believed me, but he accepted it without any argument.

Over the next two weeks the phone calls became less frequent, the conversations more superficial and trivial until they were almost too painful to endure.

I did go to see him in Melbourne the following weekend, but it was only to tell him that it was over. I knew it would be painful and I knew I would cry. I was sad, disappointed in myself, and extremely sorry that I was going to hurt him.

He met me at the airport as usual. As he walked towards me, smiling and looking very handsome in jeans and a white t-shirt, almost like I had imagined him that very first time we met on the boat, I sensed an underlying tension and a degree of reserve in his manner.

I was planning to tell him that it was over at lunch or maybe some other time when we were alone. I needed to wait until the right moment, but as soon as he took me in his arms and bent to kiss me I turned away, buried my head in his massive chest and just blurted it out right there in the arrivals area - then I burst into tears.

Although he knew things between us had been a little strained over the past two weeks, I think he was truly shocked. I didn't deserve it but he was wonderful and gracious and said he understood.

He held me as we kissed for the last time, then I turned and walked away, pausing briefly to look back at him just one more time. He smiled and waved. With tears running down my cheeks I walked back through security to go to the departure gate to wait for a flight back to Adelaide.

As I said, he is a wonderful guy and everything a girl could possible wish for. He just wasn't "the one" for me.

He will read this because he knows I write for Literotica and I will e-mail him and tell him when this story is published.

So finally - and this is especially "For Mark":

"Thank you for everything. It may not mean much now, but I did love you, and in my own way I still do. You will always have a very special place in my heart. I hope you do not think too badly of me."

Love

Catherine

xx



For Married Eyes Only



I know many of you will think I'm a real asshole, and sadly, you are probably right. The odd thing is, if you met me, you would never guess what dark secrets lie beneath the surface. If you were to tell any of my friends the stories I'm about to relate to you, none would believe you, most of all my wife.

It's disturbing what I've become and in many ways perhaps sharing these stories is my way of cleansing my soul, my feeble attempt at correcting my behavior, a last reckoning. I've tried many times in the past to clean up my act, but I failed each time, it is like an addiction. I'm reminded of Mark Twain's quip concerning cigar smoking -- "It's easy to quit, I've done it thousands of times!" Each time I quit, within a few weeks I'm hankering for more, for a new adventure, a new conquest.

And what is it that makes me so evil? Well, I've never killed any one, I've never ripped anyone off, I've never raped, and I've certainly never had sex with a minor. In fact, I don't think I've ever done anything illegal, per se -- at least not by U.S. laws. However, I have destroyed a few lives along the way, certainly creating hardships for some and in at least two cases was the catalyst for nasty divorces; oddly, never my own, at least not yet. Perhaps once these stories are circulated that will be my fate too, god knows I deserve it.

My addiction is simple, not particularly abnormal, but the degree, the extent, the secretness, and on a few occasions the immorality of it, certainly are not things one would be proud of at the end of their life in a process of self-reckoning. Yes, yes, you are still waiting, what is it that has drawn me down to such a low degree -- women. Well, it isn't women, I certainly don't blame them, but it is my desire to seduce them, to sleep with them, to constantly seek out new conquests, a sort of proverbial Captain Kirk of the S.S. Enterprise, going where no man has gone before! The catch is, in most cases, they are places other men have gone before, such as their husbands. My addiction is not just any woman, but married women, women involved with other guys. Yes, I certainly have had my share of single women too, including a couple of daughters of the women I was having affairs with, not to mention a few sisters too, as well as some prostitutes, but it is married women that drives me, that gives me sustenance.

Though I always fantasized about Mrs. Robinson, there was never one in my sordid past. It would be easy to blame her for my addiction, but one will have to search else where for culpability. In fact, my sex life was quite normal, whatever that may imply, until later in life. I didn't marry until I was 35 so had plenty of opportunities to enjoy bachelorhood. Nothing particularly unusual, a few one-night stands, a couple of wild parties in college, lots of steady girlfriends. Strangely, I never cheated on any of them, despite a few opportunities. Marriage however, changed all sense of fidelity, though I was corrupted a few years before marriage. My first taste of married pussy (is that too crude?) occurred on my 30th birthday. It was one of those unexpected encounters, happening more by chance, or so it seemed, than the outcome of an intentional seduction. But it planted a seed that grew into a full-grown addiction.

Susan was a colleague at work, a few years younger than myself. At the time I was living in Washington, DC, working for some organization that thought it was the savior of the world. Just having completed graduate studies, it was a great opportunity to do policy-oriented research. Susan was also a junior research fellow while completing her graduate studies at the School of International Studies. She worked for a different division than I, so I didn't know her particularly well. We chatted in passing a few times and that was about it. 

For my birthday several colleagues took me out for drinks after work on a Friday evening. On our way out we bumped into Susan and someone mentioned to her that she should join us. Susan was very non-committal. But sure enough about an hour later Susan and Kelly, one of the senior secretaries for the organization, met us at the bar.

If there were ever the vision of the perfect Mrs. Robinson, besides Ann Margaret, it would be Kelly. She was statuesque, with perfect posture, perfect curves, perfect hair, perfect clothes, and a perfectly disdainful attitude to all. Her only limitation in making it into the Mrs. Robinson hall of fame was that she wasn't married, and rumor was she was having an affair with the director of the organization, Pamela. So much for Kelly.

It was in fact quite surprising to see Kelly there and even more surprising to get a hug from her when she came around the table to wish me a happy birthday. The feel of her luscious breasts pressed against my chest and my hands on her back along with her smell up so close, are etched in my memory. But that was all Kelly offered. Susan also gave me a quick hug, very casual, nothing memorable. 

Susan and Kelly sat across from where I was located, so I didn't get a chance to chat with them, but I did get the opportunity of checking them out. Susan wasn't the type of woman that wowed you with her looks, but upon closer examination one could see her fine features: a long neck, sparkling eyes, and most importantly ample cleavage.

Over the evening the party dwindled and soon there were just four of us left. Along the way we had ordered a few dishes and I found myself sharing the remains of a large order of potato skins with Susan. We swapped a few war stories of our experiences in graduate school and found we shared a healthy skepticism about the organization we worked for; a place many of our colleagues took way too seriously. 

Susan talked about her marriage three years ago to a fellow graduate student, who was several years her senior. He worked for an international organization that put him overseas most of the time, including for the past week. For now, she confessed she enjoyed the situation, giving her the space and time to concentrate on her own studies and career path.

She pried into my own relationship status and I explained how I had lived with a fellow graduate student the past several years, however, she pursued her academic career taking up a position in California, while I pursued mine in DC. Neither of us felt attached enough to change career directions but remained close friends, talking regularly, but there was absolutely no expectation or commitment to anything in the future.

I'd been in DC for about six months and hadn't dated since arriving. I did have a short fling with a girl I met online, but the whole encounter was a bit strange and there was no connection between us to sustain any kind of relationship. If I remember correctly her name was Diane. She was a little on the thick side, certainly not fat, which I don't mind at all. I much prefer a little meat to the anorexic look. She worked as a human resource administrator for the Department of Agriculture, not a particularly exciting career path if you ask me, and it reflected in her personality. The one thing she had going for her was her joy of sucking cock.

We had met on Myspace and even though we had little in common, I was intrigued (or was it desperate?) enough to continue chatting with her. She enjoyed hearing my stories of travels from around the world and so we finally agreed to meet one evening after work. She picked a bar she was familiar with, which happened to be conveniently only a few blocks from my apartment in Adams Morgan.

It wasn't the most painful date I had been on, but close. She had little to share, though asked intelligent enough questions to keep me talking about my experiences. After a few drinks I said I should get going and that I would walk her to the closest metro station (which was a ways away in Dupont Circle and it was cold out), or wherever she wanted to go. She then asked where I lived and when I mentioned nearby, she was interested, as she always wanted to live in the neighborhood but found everything to be much too expensive. She resided just across the Potomac, in Vienna, Virginia, easily accessible by the metro.

I'm not sure what came over me, but I invited her over to see my apartment. She loved the small flat and my collection of art objects from around the world. I was being the perfect host and offered her a drink; she opted for another beer (perhaps why she was a few pounds overweight!).

I'm not sure what led to what, but soon enough she was topless on my couch and I was sucking on her tits. For her size they were a too small and pointy, but hey, breasts are breasts. She then pushed me back and stripped off my pants, never saying a word, and dived right on to my cock. She sucked me hard, bobbing up and down in rapid motion, then stopping and licking while she held it. She never said a thing and I just moaned with pleasure as my orgasm built up. She brought me close to orgasm twice, each time stopping her sucking just before I exploded and wrapping her index finger and thumb tightly around the base of my cock to keep me from cumming. Once I recovered, she started right back up with her sucking and licking. Finally she let me cum, and cum I did, squirting several loads into her mouth, all of which she swallowed.

She might not have been the most exciting person to hang out with, but she sure did know how to suck cock. Strangely, after that, she put her bra and blouse back on and left, grabbing a taxi down to Dupont Circle to catch the metro home. She wasn't interested in any reciprocation or in intercourse. 

After that night we chatted a few more times on line then about a week later she called me asking if she could come over again. After the previous time, I had no qualms about spending a night with her.

She arrived around 8 pm, drank a beer, sucked my cock with the same pattern of holding me off twice, then swallowing all I had to offer, then leaving. Very strange, but who was I too complain. 

Soon after the second time I traveled to Geneva for an international conference and stayed for about a week. Upon returning I dropped her a note on Myspace, but she never replied. I never did call her and she never called again. Such was my time with Diane.

***

Fortunately I discovered several of the Asian massage parlors in the city, and started frequenting a Korean place just off Dupont Circle. I remember the first time I went there I felt a little unsure about the whole thing. I had visited only one other massage parlor in my life, and that was under the guidance of a good friend when I visited San Francisco a few years back. I walked by the entrance a few times before getting the nerve to walk in. I walked up the two flights of stairs, past the psychic reader, past the security cams, and knocked on the door to be let in.

I was met by mamasan who surmised it was my first visit and took me to one of the rooms. Not having been before I asked to see the different girls available and paid her the $60 cover charge. She brought in three girls and as soon as the first one walked in, I knew I wanted her. Her name was May and she was wearing a very, very short skirt that barely covered her shapely ass and a bikini top with the most amazing looking breasts. She also had a very infectious smile, and at least put on the act that she enjoyed what she was doing.

Before discussing price she had me strip down and started fondling my cock as we stood there -- definitely not a very advantageous position to be in to when discussing prices! We settled on $50 for massage and hand job.

May took me into the attached washroom and laid me down on my stomach on a rubber bed where she showered me with warm water and scrubbed my back and legs with a soft sponge. I then flipped over and she washed my front side, where she paid extra attention to my crotch. As she rinsed me off she started fondling me again, lightly playing with my balls. I then stood up and she dried me off with a large bath towel. She worked her way down my body and knelt in front of me, teasingly rubbing her cheek against my cock as she dried off my legs, looking up, staring into my eyes.

After the wash she led me back into the room and sat me on the edge of the bed. She stood in front of me spreading my legs apart and started swaying her hips, rubbing her hands over her luscious curves, down to her hips, then back up to her breasts, cupping them and teasingly displaying them in front of my face. Instinctively I reached out and grabbed her hips as she swayed them back and forth, pulling her even closer into me.

May then reached behind her and unhooked her bikini top pulling it slowly off her breasts and tossing it onto the nearby chair. I slid my hands up the side of her body to her breasts and fondled and teased her nipples. I was disappointed, but not overly surprised to discover that her perfect breasts were man-made, but that didn't stop me from enjoying them. May pushed me back onto the bed and had me roll over on my stomach. While I hated to lose sight of her sexy body, I was all too ready for a relaxing massage.

May straddled my lower back and dug her hands into my shoulders, working her little hands on my back muscles, occasionally rubbing her firm naked breasts over my back. Slowly she slid down, rubbing her own panty-clad pussy over my ass and onto my legs. She repositioned herself to the side and worked my legs, starting from my feet and working her way up. She snaked a hand underneath me as I lifted my ass into the air, feeling my hardening cock.

I then flipped over onto my back, my cock pointing straight up. She straddled me once again, this time with her pussy rubbing right against my cock. While massaging my shoulders and rubbing her hands over my chest, she kept gyrating her hips making me wish I had opted for a full-service massage rather than just a hand job! She slid further down, kneeling between my spread legs, gently rubbing my inner thighs. 

May leaned over, giving me a mock blowjob, smiling and staring into my eyes as she clasped my dick and blew kisses on it. With her left hand she cupped my balls and massaged them as she slowly started to stroke up and down my cock with her tiny right hand. After all the teasing and seeing her delicious breasts so near, I didn't last long. My muscles tightened as I started to spew cum over her hand and onto my stomach. She rubbed me gently a little more, milking the last of the cum out of my cock.

May reached around her and grabbed a small towel that she put there earlier and wiped me clean. She then laid down on my side on the bed; we curled up together, relaxing as I recovered from my orgasm. After a few minutes she led me back to the washroom and washed me down again. Seeing her half naked and feeling her hands all over my body made me hard again and she kept teasing me for another round.

I didn't take her up on the offer that night, but did return a week later, and then again a few days after that. For the three months prior to my birthday I'd been there at least every two weeks, sometimes more frequent.

***

For my birthday after the get together with my colleagues, I planned to make a visit to May and splurge for a "full service" massage rather than my usual massage with a happy ending. Of course, I didn't tell Susan about May or about Diane's cock sucking abilities, merely about going out with her twice. Based on the knowledge she had, it had been several months since I'd been with a woman.

Soon our last two colleagues left and we decided to make our exit too. It was only about 10 o'clock when we walked out into the cool spring night; thereupon realizing our respective homes were only a few blocks from one another, in Adams Morgan. I couldn't well explain to her I had other plans and thus we walked the several blocks towards home together. Except for a very friendly conversation and some laughs along the way, there was absolutely nothing to indicate our relationship was anything more than friendly. I did enjoy catching glimpses of her cleavage and light blue lacy bra now and then, but there was no flirting, no teasing touches, no suggestive eye glances. It was just a friendly evening.

I was preparing myself to go home and then go out again and head back to Dupont Circle for an hour with May. Upon reaching my apartment, which was two blocks before hers, I offered to walk her home. No, she insisted, it wasn't necessary. In an effort to be polite I offered her to come in for a nightcap or some coffee. I didn't expect her to accept, in fact, I didn't want her to; I knew May's magical touch was waiting to add a little climax to my birthday. Contrary to expectation, Susan accepted my offer. Oh well, at least the massage parlor stayed open late. Not that being with Susan was torturous, in fact I rather enjoyed her company and found the lack of flirting quite refreshing and the fact that she was married meant there were no little mind games being played out. Besides, it is always pleasant to have such a nice set of breasts to stare at, even though I'd rather be sucking on May's very firm 34C tits.

I offered her a selection of different drinks and somehow we settled on green tea. As I was in the kitchen making the tea, Susan took a seat at the kitchen bar and leaned on her elbows. When I turned around I had a very clear view of her tits dangling in her blouse. Needless to say I stared a moment longer than I should have though even then she didn't give any indication that she noticed. After I made the tea I placed hers on the coffee table and leaned back into one of the corners of the couch. She was walking around my living room, checking out the bookshelves and collection of handicraft items from different parts of the world. Very casually she slipped off her shoes and curled up in the opposite corner of the couch. 

After a little small talk about my collection, while sipping her tea, she very casually asked "do you like my breasts?" She wasn't even smiling, teasing me; the question was asked in the same tone and with the same expression as when she asked where I got a piece of pottery. 

Needless to say, I was quite taken aback by the question and with widened eyes replied "I beg your pardon?"

Now she finally laughed a little, and apologized, saying she didn't mean to shock me, but had noticed me staring at her breasts most of the evening.

Well, at that point I had three options, play innocent, apologize for my wandering eyes, or put it back on her. I opted for the later.

"I hope I caused no offense, but your breasts are quite beautiful. Yes, I do like them. Do you mind?"

"No," she replied, "as you can imagine, guys stare a lot."

I laughed knowingly. "Can you blame us? Do you like it when guys check you out?"

"Usually, as long as they are cute!" she said laughing.

"Well, they certainly are a beautiful sight. What does your husband think?"

"Think about what? My breasts? Or other guys checking me out?"

"Both."

"As for other guys, I think he is clueless. As for my breasts, he's a guy!" she said with a big smile. "He enjoys them very much."

"He is a lucky man," I offered.

With that she smiled, and shocked me yet again, "As am I!"

"Because he loves your breasts or because...?"

"Because he has a big cock," surprising me yet again with her casual tone of conversation.

"It seems you both are very lucky."

"Yeah, we do pretty well, if he wasn't away so often."

"I guess it makes his homecomings all that more sweet?"

At that she just laughed. "How big are you?"

Once again, a shocked expression crossed my face. I decided to try and keep my wits and play it cool, as she was. "Uhm, I must admit, I think you are the first woman that has ever asked that question. Does size really matter? I've never gotten a straight answer from the women I've dated."