112 comments/ 221029 views/ 52 favorites Getting Better By: Harddaysknight It was apparent as soon as I stepped through the doorway. Something had Darla agitated. She was standing in the living room wringing her hands and shifting her weight from foot to foot. I had seen her do it often enough in the 24 years or our marriage to recognize it immediately. Darla gets home from her job at a dental office half an hour before me. Usually she uses that time to start dinner and change her clothes. Today she was wearing her work outfit and there were no pleasant smells wafting from the vicinity of the kitchen. When Darla changes her routine, something is wrong. "Dick, we have to talk," she began nervously. "Sure, Sweetheart," I replied smoothly as I dropped into my recliner, keeping the ball in her court. "What is it?" "There's no easy way for me to tell you this, Dick, so I'm just going to blurt it out. I want a separation, and possibly a divorce," she bravely declared. "I think a trial separation will be best, but with the understanding that it could lead to us getting a divorce down the road." "Okay, Darling," I calmly responded. "I'll move out immediately." As I rose and started for our bedroom, I saw Darla's jaw almost strike the floor. I guess she had anticipated more discussion, and questions on my part. As long as we had been married, I never stopped enjoying the pleasure I received when I reacted to a situation differently than Darla expected. To this day, she never failed to be surprised. She was the predictable one, not me. If my immediate acceptance of her desire for a separation caught her off guard, my return to the living room in a less than a minute with two large and fully packed suitcases had her reeling. I put the luggage down by the doorway, removed a sheet of paper from my pocket, and handed it to Darla. "Here's my new address and phone number. You can still call me on my cell, too. I have only one requirement about this separation. If you have sex with anyone other than me, we will immediately proceed with the divorce. If you're just trying to find yourself, as the saying goes, we may get back together when you do. I'm not agreeing to this just so you can get laid a few times with no harm and no foul, and then let you decide that you want me back," I cautioned. "One strike and you're out!" Before Darla could speak, I pulled my cell phone out and punched in a number. "Hello, Becky? It's Dick. I was wondering if you'd care to meet me at Friday's for dinner in half an hour?" I asked. "You know it, Dick!" laughed Becky. "I'll be there with bells on, but I may forget my underwear!" I chuckled as I closed the phone, opened the door, and picked up my suitcases. I left a stunned and speechless Darla standing in the living room as I strolled nonchalantly down the walk to my car. While it hadn't been elegant dining, both Becky and I enjoyed a good steak dinner before we retired to my apartment. She had just ridden me to her third orgasm when the phone by the bed rang. While keeping me firmly lodged in her rather snug love nest, Becky leaned over and picked up the receiver. "Hello?" she answered, somewhat breathlessly. "Darla? Can he call you back in a few minutes? He's in a tight spot at the moment and needs some release. I think I can hurry him along, though. Be a sweetheart and give him half an hour, just in case the train stays in the station longer than I expect, okay?" With that, Becky hung up the phone and began to ride me with renewed vigor. I resumed squeezing her firm tits and pinching her swollen nipples as she worked to get me where I needed to go. "Damn!" she exclaimed. "I never guessed how hot it would make me to talk to a woman while I had her husband's hard cock in my pussy! I think I'm going to cum again!" This time I joined Becky in the grand finale. I waited several minutes for my heartbeat to return to normal, and for Becky to dismount. Then I leaned over to the phone and dialed what had been until a few shorts hours ago, my home number. "Hello!" Darla almost screamed as she answered before the first ring had ended. "Is that you, Dick?" "Yeah, it's me, Darla. Sorry I couldn't get to the phone when you called, but I got back to you as soon as I was free," I replied more than a little smugly. "What the hell is going on, Dick?" demanded Darla. "You already had a place to stay and your bags packed before I even told you that I wanted a separation. Then I call your number to discuss our situation and that slut answers the phone. She all but admitted she was fucking your brains out!" "Let's just say that I didn't want to be caught with my pants down this afternoon when you decided to tell me about wanting a separation. Getting caught with my pants down a few minutes ago was far less upsetting. Becky isn't really a slut. At least I don't think she is," I chuckled as I patted Becky's smooth ass. "I guess I could ask her about it if it's important in deciding if we're going to reconcile or not." "You Bastard!" blurted Darla. "You told me that we weren't going to have sex with anyone while we were separated. This is only a trial!" "That isn't exactly what I said, Darla," I countered. "I told you that if you had sex with anyone else, we would proceed with the divorce. I never said anything about me not having sex." "You're a real piece of work!" snapped Darla. "Why do you think you can play by different rules, or that you can even dictate them? If you can go out and fuck some slut, I sure as hell have the right to get laid. Sauce for the gander and all that, Dick." "Of course you can, Darla. I'm just telling you that it will absolutely result in our divorce. I will not be a cuckold," I asserted. "Then we should get a divorce because you fucked that bitch, wouldn't you say?" demanded Darla. "I guess we should file Monday morning. That seems fair, doesn't it?" "Not quite, Darla. Here's my reasoning. You are the one that decided we should separate. That meant that I was being removed from my sexual partner against my wishes. You were doing it of your own volition. That is a huge difference. Then there is the fact that I told you up front that I would divorce you if you had sex with anyone other than me. You never said anything like that to me. Finally, and with all that being said, you still have every right to file for divorce. If you want one, go ahead and file. It's that simple," I concluded. "But I'm not sure I want a divorce, Dick! I just want a separation so I can think about things," insisted Darla. "Then there's no problem, is there. We're separated. You have what you want," I concluded. "But you're fucking that whore and I'm not allowed any sex or you'll divorce me. That isn't fair!" Darla lamented. "Darla, I didn't ask for a separation. I don't want one. I want my life, and my wife the way they were, almost. You have taken that from me. Perhaps you have reason to feel you need a separation. My point is that I am not going to go without sex because you have some bug up your ass. If it would make you happy, you can come over here three or four nights a week and I'll fuck you silly. That way, I won't be nailing every woman I can coax into bed," I reasoned. "What kind of a separation would that be, Dick? I've never heard of a couple separating and the woman still letting the man screw her all the time to keep him faithful! That wouldn't even be a separation then, would it?" demanded Darla. "I haven't read the separation handbook yet, Darla. I see that I need to be more precise here. If you do decide to come over and have me fuck your ass off, be prepared for just that. One thing I've determined is that I 'm not going to have this separation idea of yours limit my sexual appetite, like marriage did! I realize now and freely admit that I like every sort of sexual position and activity possible. I won't have you lie still for a few minutes as if you're making a great personal sacrifice, and then expect me to stop fucking real women. If you want show up at my door to sate my sexual appetite, bring lube, lip gloss, and whipped cream, because I'll fuck you in every opening, over and over again," I promised. "What's wrong with you, Dick? All I wanted was a simple separation to see if we should remain married. In a couple hours you've turned into a sex fiend! You're rude, crude, coarse, and vulgar! You picked up and apparently fucked the shit out of that slut. You've probably been fucking behind my back for years!" "Bullshit! I've never been unfaithful and I didn't ask for a separation. I'm just trying to find myself. Right now I find myself with a big titted woman that's trying to swallow my cock! We can talk again tomorrow!" I quipped as I replaced the receiver. "Wow!" laughed Becky as she pulled off my cock to take a few quick breaths. "That talk really made me horny. You sure laid down the law to your wife! Did I hear her call me a slut?" I had always been an observant man. It came natural and was useful in many ways. It prevented many of the surprises that blindside most people all the time. My wife, Darla, on the other hand, noticed almost nothing unless it bit her in the ass. Darla had been speaking in very glowing terms about a new dentist that had joined the practice that employed her. He was in the last stages of a divorce from a wife that had been an unfaithful, cheating slut. At the same time, he had been nominated for sainthood. Such was the character of this new dentist at Darla's work. Then a few weeks ago, Darla had stopped talking about him. Any questions I asked were deflected. It was as if the new guy had fallen off the planet. Darla's silence on this subject concerned me more than her incessant chatter. I had our phone tapped, conversations recorded, and her emails forwarded to me. I hired a private dick to find out what he could about the situation. From all the evidence, a clearer picture of the seduction emerged. Dr. Burns, as he was known professionally, was trying to get into Darla's pants. He was being divorced because he had done the same thing at his previous dental group. There were even a couple of his old patients that had come close to charging him with ethics violations. The guy was a sleaze. To her credit, Darla had managed to resist thus far. She refused to cheat on her marriage and her husband. That was when Burns had started pushing her to get a separation. He argued that Darla would not be cheating if she were separated when she had sex with him. Hence, my strongly stated warning to Darla about having sex with anyone other than me. If she even entertained the thought of remaining married to me, she had to keep that prick out of her pants. Becky had been a work colleague of mine for only a few months, but we had made a fast friendship. She was a widow and had recently received a transfer to the west coast to be nearer her daughter and grandkids. When I explained my marital problems with Darla and my plan to bring the situation to a head, Becky had quickly volunteered to be the other woman. By reading Darla's email and listening to her phone conversations, I knew that she was going to announce the idea of a trial separation Friday afternoon. It was a simple thing for me to go home for lunch and pack a couple bags. Then I moved into Becky's apartment since she had two months left on her lease. She was flying west on Monday afternoon, so we fucked like monkeys all weekend. I maintained the surveillance on Darla. I was serious as a heart attack about tossing her to the curb if she so much as gave Burns a blow job. I had been a loyal husband, and dedicated father to our son and daughter. They had graduated from the local university and had good jobs in neighboring states. I was not going to be cuckolded by some womanizer. I decided that if Darla wanted me back, she would have to convince me that she was worth it. I was not going to beg her. If we managed to continue on as a married couple, things would not go back to the status quo. I wanted more from my marriage than mercy fucks every couple weeks. I wanted a woman that was willing to match my desires and even up the stakes at times. I would not be going back to the life of a monk. I had just gotten to my apartment after dropping Becky off at the airport when my doorbell rang. I was more than a little surprised to find Darla standing there, sobbing. I quickly ushered her in and sat her on the couch. I sat next to her and waited for her to speak. It took a couple minutes, but she eventually collected herself and told me what was bothering her. "Dick, I've been so stupid! It probably won't surprise you any when I tell you that Dr. Burns has been coming on to me pretty hard over the past few weeks. You seem to know more about what I'm doing than I do most of the time. He convinced me to ask you for a trial separation so we could have sex," admitted Darla. "He told me it wasn't cheating if we were separated and that you would even treat me better when I decided to take you back." "That sure as hell wasn't quite how it went though! You already had your bags packed, a place to live and some slut lined up to fuck by the time I told you my brilliant idea. I'll never understand how you always seem to know so much about what I'm doing, but I should have known that you'd be light years ahead of me. You always are. "When I called you Friday night and that woman answered and all but admitted that you were fucking her, I almost died. Then when you called back, I knew that you had just finished doing her. It hurt terribly, Dick!" sobbed Darla. "I spent the entire weekend thinking about what you said. It slowly dawned on me that you were being honest about the situation. I was the one that was asking for a separation, not you. I was planning on having a few nights of sex with Ed Burns and then allowing you to crawl back home. You were just an unknowing victim in my stupid scheme." Darla wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but she had always been honest and open. That was one reason why her actions of late had sounded so many alarms. She was not cut out to be furtive and diabolical. It just wasn't her. "It turned out that you weren't an unknowing victim after all. You somehow knew what I had planned and turned it all around on me. In the blink of an eye the tables were turned and you were having the extramarital sex without guilt or explanation. I would have lost my marriage if I slept with Ed. I realized that you'd somehow know if I even gave him that blowjob you warned me about. Finally after hours of thinking and more than a little crying and self pity, I understood what I had attempted to do to you, to us. I even understood your rapid and very effective response to my stupid, selfish, and totally undeserved actions. You got me good; Dick, but I deserved it. I decided to tell the good doctor to go to hell this morning when he came in to work," concluded Darla. "So you told him off and expect me to forget all about it, Darla?" I asked. "I should forget that were willing to risk our marriage for some strange cock? That you were willing to put me through hell because some jackass wanted to get into your pants? Darla, you're a lovely woman. There are many men that would fuck you in a heartbeat. Do I have to worry what you'll do about every man that gets a hard on looking at you?" "No, Dick, I didn't tell Burns off this morning. There were a couple of cops waiting in the parking lot for him when he came in. He was arrested and charged with rape and who knows what else. One of our patients, Mrs. Peter Gunn, claims he molested and raped her while she was sedated. An investigation has prompted a couple more women to come forward about inappropriate behavior on his part. His ass is grass," chuckled Darla grimly. "That's the piece of shit I risked everything for, Dick." "I can't really say I'm surprised, Darla. It was pretty obvious to me he was a conniving pussy hound with the scruples of an alley cat. Now he's out of the picture and you expect me to forget everything?" "No, Dick," answered Darla slowly. "I was hoping to hold you to your word, if you weren't lying to me, that is." "I have never lied to you, Darla, and I always try to keep my word. I just don't have any idea to what you're referring," I responded with confusion. "You told me that I could come over three or four nights a week and you'd fuck me silly. You said that would remove the need to coax other women into your bed, remember?" asked Darla. "Yeah, I do recall saying something like that, now that you mention it," I admitted. "I also told you that I wouldn't go back to the way things were. You'll have to participate and not just lie there and allow me the use of your body. That has no real appeal to me, especially after experiencing how exciting and enjoyable sex is when each partner trys in every way to please the other. Sorry if that offends you." "I think I understand what you mean, Dick. Maybe you can help me learn to be more responsive. I'll do anything that slut did for you, and then some. I promise that, Dick, if you'll promise me that you won't see her or any other woman again. I'll be all the slut you could ever want, or handle." Becky was probably flying over Colorado at that moment and had no intentions of ever returning. I didn't even know any more women that might be willing to give me a shot, and I really did love Darla, so her condition was a no-brainer for me. "You have a deal, Darla!" I promised. "There'll be no other women as long as you're willing to be my personal slut. I'm stressing the word personal. I will not allow you to even flirt with another man without my expressed permission." No problem, Dick!" squealed Darla. "I can't believe you're so willing to give up that other woman for me, but I'm so happy that you have. You won't regret this decision, Dick. I can't wait to be your little slut and to learn what I should have been doing with you, and for you, for the past twenty-some years. Oh, here's more proof that I'm serious, Darling." With that statement, Darla reached into her handbag and removed lip gloss, lube, and whipped cream and placed them all on the end table. "Honey, is there any particular order you want to use these products?" smiled Darla seductively. Getting Better I cannot say that the operation was all that bad. Of course I was awake for it so that they could wire the implants into the right places, but I was also sedated so much that I cannot really remember the details. It was the post-op period that was grim. Being depressed was bad enough. I wish depression on no-one. That feeling of utter uselessness, all encompassing exhaustion, When I was asked if I would accept the experimental surgery, I confess that my thoughts were, "What if it kills me, death would be better than existence." After the operation my depression was even worse. I had the pain of the healing scars, but also I was being withdrawn from the anti-depressants that had been my previous treatment. It was clear that, contrary to my belief, they had been doing some good. Without them, well, I hate to remember how I felt. Then they started to activate the implants. As I understand things, my depression had been caused because the areas of my brain that should have been triggering good feelings had stopped working. They were getting all the right signals, but not passing the message on. They should have been triggering hormones, but weren't. I understand that the drugs that some addicts take mimic these hormones. They trigger the pleasure centres of the brain, they mimic make the addict feel good for a while, until the drug wears off. But as the brain becomes resistant to the drug the addict requires a greater and greater dosage to achieve the effect again. Well one of my implants had the same effect. It excited one part of the brain and that, in its turn stimulated the production of the hormones that then stimulated my pleasure centres. At first they tweaked the implant's level of activity so as to exactly, on average, counteract my depression. This process was trial and error. As my underlying mood varied the effect of a constant level of stimulation meant that I experienced a mental see-saw. However, once they had a baseline level to work on they brought the other implant to life. This monitored the areas of my brain that should have been triggering the first area. It measured the signals they received, and then the information was used to control the activity of the first implant. It was wonderful. I felt normal. Once they were satisfied that they everything worked they were able to give me the control unit. This I wore like a wristwatch. It communicated by radio with the two implants. I returned to normal life, and to work. The years of depression were just bad memories. Yes I had bad moments, but everybody does, that is part of normality. That was years ago. I was the first, the guinea pig. The technology improved. My control unit was replaced by one like a button implanted under the skin of my neck. I recharge it by wearing a special collar from time to time. The treatment has now been given to many other people. When they had done the one-hundredth operation I was invited to come to a party to celebrate their success. I met their hundredth patient. That is how it started. The party was held in the pub across the road from the hospital. It is often said that medics work hard and play, or in this case party hard. The music was loud, and the poor lass who's operation was being celebrated was rather overcome. I saw her expression, and moved over to talk to her. Because of the noise I had to lean towards her to make myself heard. I felt a surge of well-being. She brightened as well. I took her hand, and led her to a quiet room. She thanked me. We chatted. I liked her. She liked me. We discovered that we lived in the same area. We promised to meet again, and we did. Of course things happened slowly. After her operation it took her some time to rebuild her life, but I think that I was able to pass on some of my own experiences to help her. When we were together we both felt well. Slowly something dawned upon me. Being ill can seriously damage your wealth. Since I had been treated I had been able to earn again, and so could rent a reasonable sized flat. She had a scruffy bedsit with a kitchen. To be fair to it, I had lived in and in fact shared much worse worse accommodation at times. We visited each other quite regularly. I knew that she loved a particular type of chocolate cake. She did not buy it for herself, because she thought she needed to loose weight, so the next time I visited her I bought a couple of slices. She made coffee, and I managed to sit close to her on the pretext of showing her a book I was reading. I took the box from my bag and gave it to her. She opened it, and said all the usual "You shouldn't have." and "No, I mustn't." sort of things, but I took one piece from the box and put it beside my coffee cup. She could not resist, took the other piece, and took a bite from it. I was right. As soon as she tasted the cake her pleasure centres were triggered by her enjoyment of the cake, but not only that, I felt that mine had also been triggered. My implants were responding to her control unit as well as my own. I nibbled my cake, and she seemed to blush. She then did something she had not done before. She leaned over, and kissed my cheek. I felt another surge of the hormone being triggered. I raised my hands and cupped her face in them. I did not have to do anything else. Our lips touched, and we had our first real kiss. We were both out of breath when our lips eventually separated. I did feel guilty. I stood up and moved a short distance away from her. She made to come after me but I asked her to stay where she was. At first she looked hurt, but her mood seemed to cool quite quickly. With some distance between us, I explained what I thought was happening. I asked her to think, carefully, if she still felt the same way when there was some distance between us, and she agreed that yes, her feelings seemed different. "You gave me the cake as an experiment." She was thinking. She was not sure if she was offended by what I had done. She stood up. From her expression I thought that she was going to slap me. I knew I deserved a good slapping for the trick I had pulled. She withdrew her arm, and swung it towards my face. I closed my eyes ready for the slap, but she stopped her hand just short, and then gently stroked my cheek. Then I felt her breath on my cheek. "I see what you mean. I felt your mood change myself. When you thought I was going to hit you I felt... something... not fear, but something. Then it felt so good when I stroked your cheek. We both started to approach the other for another kiss, but then she jerked herself away. "Is this real? Do I love you? Is it just chemistry? " "Perhaps that is all that love is? Chemistry." "Well chemistry and electronics for us." She laughed. "Lets sit apart and discuss this." We sat at opposite corners of the room. The table with our coffee and cake was between us. We both glanced at it, smiled, stood up, retrieved our mugs and cake, and returned to sit in our corners. Neither of us knew what to say. We sipped and nibbled. Eventually she spoke. "I think I liked you from the start, when you rescued me from that party." "Well I know that I wanted to rescue you, not just anybody." "Chemistry at first sight?" We were silent again. "More coffee? "Please." I sat while she left the room. I could hear all the noises. The clunk as she put the empty mugs down. The clatter as she lifted the kettle. The hiss of the water from the tap. The kettle clattered back onto its base. Then there was the sharper click of its switch. A cupboard door opened. A teaspoon tinged against a jar. Again. The cupboard closed again. Silence. Then I heard that shooshing sound that comes as the element heats up in the cold water. The listened to pot takes a long time to boil too. After aeons it did. Click. It switched itself off. Clatter. She had lifted it. She must have been pouring. Clatter. The kettle was back in its place. Teaspoon in mug. She came back in, and put both mugs on the table. She looked at me. "I've been thinking." I nodded. So had I. "I would like you to come and sit over here again." "You mean?" "Yes." "You sure?" "Who cares whether it is chemistry or electronics or old-fashioned love. I like it." We kissed, and the coffee went cold. It had happened so quickly. We both wanted to take things further there and then, but equally, we were both aware that we might be deceiving ourselves. We agreed that we should take things slowly. We agreed that we should not meet in each others home's again until we were sure. We did go to a lot of films, and we did not watch very much of them. We got to know the pubs and cafés with dark intimate corners. We lasted a couple of months. I have not the faintest idea what the film was. All I know was that the weather had been good when we went into the cinema, and it was pouring when we came out. A man was going round emptying the rubbish bins in front of the cinema, and he had a roll of black plastic bin liners on his trolley. I approached him and and begged a bin bag from him. I used my penknife to slit it so the the bag corners made a sort of double rain hood. With our arms around each, with out heads covered by the makeshift cloak, we made for the bus stop. It was unsheltered, and there was a long queue. Even if a bus came we were not sure of being able to get on it. It was raining, so there was no chance of getting a taxi. My flat was nearest. When we got there our legs were soaked, but otherwise, we were not too damp. " Magnificently inspired protection Sir." She swept the bin bag off us as if it had been a heavy velvet cloak. Before I could stop myself I blurted out "We don't need to improvise protection now." "No!" She grinned, and opened her bag and took out a large box of condoms. "No, No, No, that isn't what I meant." I was blushing, What I had been thinking did not exactly involve condoms, but it did, in fact run along exactly parallel lines. Neither of us were virgins. She had lived for several years with someone called Pete. Pete was long gone. I had been married. Somewhere I had a couple of children and an ex-wife. Depression had led to squabbles had led to depression had led to divorce. After the children, and before the divorce I had had a vasectomy. That had been the protection that I had been thinking about being unnecessary. She misunderstood my noes. She thought that I didn't want her. She was about to cry. I put my arms around her. I hugged her. She raised her face to me. "Don't you want to?" "I do. I do. What I meant was that..." She did not let me explain. She laughed. Her voice changed to a sort of robotic monotone. "My electrons are working. You are my leader. Take me to your bedroom." That evening we made the greatest discovery. As I said. Neither of us were virgins. Similarly, neither of us were porn stars. Neither of us had experienced passionate sessions of copulation lasting for hours and hours. She was not expecting to display a series of earth and ear shattering orgasms as soon as her private parts were diddled with. We undressed each other slowly and lovingly. As her blouse came off I cradled a breast in my hand, still in its bra cup. The friction through the fabric excited her. I gently circled her nipple with my finger tip. She smiled, and I felt the surge as much as she did. I was not having to guess what might feel nice for her. I knew it. There was no guesswork. All her erogenous areas were there for the discovery. I turned her back towards me and undid her bra. I ran my finger lightly up her spine. No reaction. I kissed the back of her neck. Wow. I stroked her earlobe. Wham. She unbuttoned my shirt and ran her fingers over my chest. She undid my belt and trouser waist band. They slid downwards. We laughed. It was clear that my underpants were not going to be removed so easily. She was too shy to try, and so I wrangled my penis back into my boxer-shorts so as to permit their removal. She slid her own pants down. Under other circumstances I would have been ashamed. I was living on my own. I am not the tidiest person at best. My bathroom's -- well shower room's -- door was agape and it was in need of a good clean. The toilet needed scrubbing. My bedroom was a tip. At least the sheet and duvet cover were reasonably clean. She lay beside me and started to explore. She ran her fingers up my leg. She stopped. You are cold and wet. So am I. And I need to pee. Come on. She dragged me off my bed, and towards my shower room. She stopped. "Is the water hot?" "It will be." "Good. Get it running." She sat on the loo. I remembered the total lack of self consciousness between man and wife. This wasn't the hormones flooding through us. It was natural, it was trust, sharing and friendship. The lust was there as well of course, but underneath that we had more. We had been holding off intimacy for so long, and now that we had taken the plunge (well almost) we were a complete couple. I readied the shower, she finished her pee, and joined me. The warm relaxing water slowed us down. I rummaged amongst the empty plastic bottles and found one with some shower gel in it. I squeezed some onto my hand, and passed her the bottle. I rubbed my hands together, and started to rub her back. She put down the bottle, and braced herself against the wall as I ran my finger tips over her. I knew exactly when I was massaging the right place. If you have ever given a successful back rub then you will know the lines:- "Ow, that hurts." "Yes, just there." "Ow. Ow, OW. OOOch. OOOOCCCH." "No, don't stop." "OOOOWWWW." I could not stop myself. My hands slipped under her arms and cradled her boobs. She pressed herself back against me, grinding her buttocks onto my penis. She soon knew just how I felt about that, and parted her legs so that my penis could be better accommodated and held. She knew she was pleasing me. In response, I found her nipples and gently tweaked and circled them. She thrust her buttocks back and forth. My penis, lubricated by the shower gel slid between them, and pressed against her rosebud. She liked that -- my god, she liked that. Her knees gave way, and I found myself supporting her under her armpits. She recovered and turned to face me. "Before we both collapse, lets finish the shower." We were both laughing so much by the time we had finished that we were aching. We had started to try to wash the other without causing titillation. But then we each tried to thwart the other's attempts. We ended up washing ourselves, while trying to avoid touching, which in the tiny shower cubicle was impossible. We rinsed each other, 'accidentally' spraying the water at areas that seemed to be the most excited by the process. At last I pushed the shower door open, and went in search of some clean towels. When I returned she was finishing, with a rather glassy look upon her face, by making sure that all her nooks and crannies were well rinsed. She turned the water off, and I wrapped her in the towel. We both knew that making love would be the end of the evening. We would both sleep like logs. We wanted to do it, but we wanted to extend the preliminaries as long as we could. This was so wonderful, we did not want it to end, however ecstatically. There was another problem. We were wet. My flat is draughty. We were already feeling cold again. "Do you want a hot drink?" "Yes please," she answered. I found an old pair of floppy slippers and a thick old dressing gown for her. I slipped on some rubber sandals and wrapped myself in a blanket. "Tea? Coffee? Cocoa? - but I haven't got a lot of milk." A few minutes later we were nude again, snuggling under the duvet sipping hot dark cocoa. "Come here you." She pulled my face toward her, and licked my upper lip. "You had a chocolate moustache." "I wasn't going to mention things like that." I licked my finger, and used it to remove a speck of cocoa from her chin. I licked my finger again, and then dipped it into my cocoa. She saw me do it, and looked quizzical. I lifted the duvet, and dabbed the drip of cocoa onto her breast. We both grinned. She took a last slurp from her mug. Then dipped her finger into the dregs, and adorned her other breast with another drip. She put her mug down on the bedside cabinet. She lay back, parted her legs, and guided me to lie between them so that my chin was resting between her boobs. "I think that you had better clean up the mess you made." "Do I have to?" "Yes you do." "It wasn't all me. You made a mess as well." "No arguing. Get on with it. Now." When my lips touched her nipple we both gasped. She arched, and then pushed her crotch upwards against my belly. One nipple, and then the other pulsed to engorgement. "Please. Now. Now, my love." I crawled up her body. I kissed her lips. She squirmed, and positioned herself ready with her chasm just parting around me. I slowly pressed inwards. She parted, welcomed, caressed and gave herself to me. The shared waves of pleasure as we slowly united were... were... They were indescribably wonderful. We lay still, united, luxuriating in shared pleasure, for what seemed a long time. It may have been minutes or only seconds. Then she ground herself against me. I withdrew a little and then thrusted. I rotated my hips. "Oh God, you've got it. Don't stop." Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open in a silent scream. She started to shake. She was bucking underneath me. I tried to maintain the pressure where she wanted it, "Oh Fuck. Fuck." She arched and bucked, swearing at each movement of my penis within her. I am only a man. I can only do what I can. I tried to pace myself, but I didn't stand a chance. Eyes closed, I pounded into her, out of all control. In return, she squirmed and swore. And it was beautifully and sweatily and stickily over. I was panting. She was panting. I could feel her muscles surrounding me, pulsing and spasming. I was just conscious enough to know that, were I to relax my arms then I would collapse like a dead weight onto her, so as well as I could, I grasped her to me and we rolled over, somehow maintaining unity. I pulled a pillow across for her to rest her head upon. Sometime later -- I have no way of knowing how much later, I awoke, reached out and turned the bedside light off, squirmed my other arm beneath her to allow it a bit of blood flow and went back to sleep. She gave notice on her bed-sit and moved in with me. A couple of weeks later two letters arrived from the clinic, one for each of us. They were both similar letters of apology. It seemed that their electronics technicians had noticed a problem. 'The implants have to be made with a unique electronic identifier, so that they can only communicate with their own control unit. We believe that in a few cases these identifiers have been duplicated. In the unlikely event... bla bla bla.' 'Please could you make an appointment to visit the clinic so that we can ensure that your implant identifiers are not one of the duplicates.' We ignored the invitation. * If you enjoyed this story, of even if you didn't, it would be great if you could tell me about your likes and dislikes. And of course, the same applies to all my other stories. Personally, I hope you enjoy them! Have Fun Getting Better Acquainted In the morning Soula woke me with a kiss and a cup of coffee. She was wearing the pink button-up satin night shirt she keeps at my place, and her large breasts swayed sensuously beneath it. The bed smelled of sex and I imagined I could taste a hint of my semen on her lips. I’ve never met a woman who likes to eat jizz like Soula. I swear that in the last six weeks there’s only been a couple of times I haven’t cum in her mouth. As I sipped the hot brew I heard her fussing in the laundry. I don’t know why she feels obliged to do that when she visits – I’m a good housekeeper. I had a persistent morning hard on and stroked myself lazily while thinking about the hot sex the night before. After a couple of minutes I reached for the remote control and scanned back through the video we’d watched, stopping at the final scene where the woman is bent over the table and takes it in the arse. Soula came back in with an armful of folded clothes, looked for a moment at the TV screen, then gave a snort and started putting the clothes away. I pushed the bedclothes aside, came up behind her as she stood at the wardrobe. I put my arms around her, rubbing her round tummy then cupping those plump breasts through her night shirt. ‘Morning, lover,’ I said nuzzling her neck and wedging my hard on against her hefty butt. ‘Mmmmm,’ she replied, tilting her head to one side so I could kiss down her neck. She leant forward a little, put the armful of clothes on top of the drawers and braced her hands on them. Bent forward like this, her braless tits hung down heavily and her big cushiony butt pressed back against my cock. I squeezed her breasts then, sucking on an ear lobe, gently tweaked the nipples. ‘Don’t Mick,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘You know I don’t like fooling round in the morning.’ I knew no such thing and the hardening nubs made a liar of her, not to mention the slight grinding motion as she pushed back on my cock. I let go of her breasts and, continuing to nuzzle her neck, tugged up the back of her shirt, revealing the stretched elastic of her white panties bisecting that tattoo of a cute little devil. That tattoo and its companion, an angel just above the bikini line on her front, had caught my eye that day at the pool when we first met. I hitched a couple of fingers in the sides of her panties, and worked them down to her knees. ‘Stop Mick,’ she whined. I cupped her breasts again and snuggled my boner into the warm fleshy cleft between her buttocks. For a couple of minutes I rubbed my cock against her, kissed and nipped her neck, massaged her tits. To the side I heard the final moments of the video and the click as it automatically shut off. All the while Soula was saying stop, she wasn’t interested, she had to be going soon, and so on. But she didn’t push me away. I stepped back and went round to the other side of the bed. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, looking over her shoulder as I opened in the drawer of the beside table. ‘Getting vaseline,’ I said, holding up the jar for her to see. God she was a horny sight – her big creamy olive butt pushed out, a good tuft of her very hairy puss showing between her thighs, those strong legs taut and smooth, her dark mane tussled, those big brown eyes and fat pouting lips. ‘No Mick,’ she whined. But she didn’t move as I walked back. I pulled her panties to the floor and, still bent forward at the waist, she stepped out of them. I nudged her ankles with one foot and she readily moved them apart. I knelt behind her, put a hand on each cheek and pulled them wide. There was that beautiful little pucker, all purple and creased, surrounded by wisps of dark damp curls. I had admired it several times in the past weeks and now I planned to get properly acquainted. I could smell a bit of arse pong over the sex from last night and the hint of her current arousal. ‘You want me to lick you first?’ I asked between kisses on each moon. ‘Don’t Mick,’ she whined. ‘It’s really dirty.’ I took a long swipe down her crack, tasting the salty sweat there, then wriggled the tip of my tongue right in the middle of her prune. She took in a sharp breath and, as I continued to stab and suck at the clenched muscle, began to breathe heavily. I was squeezing and massaging those cheeks, my fingers sinking deep into the pliant flesh. With a bit of spit I worked my tongue through her sphincter. She couldn’t suppress a small moan and as I reamed her, stretching that anus and probing deeper. She pushed back a little going oh oh oh. I worked my tongue in as deep as I could, feeling her internal heat and tasting the rankness of her rectum. ‘Doooonnn’t,’ she moaned, clenching her sphincter and forcing my tongue back. Just as only the tip was still in her she relaxed and let me wriggle it in deep again before gasping ‘No, it’s dirty!’ and clenching again. And so we played – tongue in, pushed out, tongue in. I guess we could have done it for long minutes, but my hard on was persistent. I picked up the jar from the floor and dabbed vaseline round her hole making it glisten. ‘No Mick,’ she said, then ‘Don’t!’ as I pushed a dollop through into her rectum. I stood and slowly smeared lube over my cock. ‘Don’t put it in my bum,’ begged Soula. ‘I don’t like it.’ I fitted the greasy knob of my cock against her glistening pucker. ‘Especially in the morning,’ she whined. I reached up under her shirt and grabbed hold of her heavy dugs, the broad nipples pebbly hard against my palms. ‘And your penis is much too big for me,’ she added in a thrilled whisper. I pressed forward and felt her ring quickly yield as she bore back. My cock slid easily into her hot rectum. ‘Ow, ow, ow,’ she whined. I paused halfway to give her a chance to adjust but she pushed herself back till my thighs were against hers. ‘Too big, too big,’ she panted, rocking slowly back and forth so the last two inches of my cock, the widest part, worked her sphincter. ‘Oh, oh, oh … ow, ow, ow,’ she grunted as she slowly corkscrewed on my dong. I took over the fucking and ploughed her with long steady thrusts. ‘Stop Mick, you’re killing me!’ she groaned. I gave her a dozen hard jabs, lifting her forward on her toes each time, making her moan deep. I was working her tits more roughly, digging my fingers deep into the soft flesh, pinching the hard nubs. I paused and she went back to fucking her arse on the base of my cock saying ow ow ow in a kind of mantra. I bent down, pushed aside her hair, and bit her sweaty neck. She hung her head and moaned, pushing hard back against my cock. I pinched her nipples hard and she bucked back again. I pulled out til just the head of my dick was still in her. ‘You want me to stop?’ ‘Just do it quick, honey,’ she panted, her anus rhythmically clenching and unclenching around my glans. ‘Get it over with.’ I gave her a long steady thrust, burying my cock in her hot gut. ‘No more! No more! You’re killing me,’ she gasped, but at the same time arching her back a little so that she could take my cock even deeper. I kept up the long thrusting. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ she blurted like she does when she’s approaching orgasm. ‘Do you want me to cum in your arse,’ I panted, tweaking those nipples again. She’s got such an oral fetish that I was hoping she’d take the load in her mouth. ‘Oh, fuck yeah, honey,’ she grunted back. No worries, I thought. We can do the arse to mouth another time. ‘OK, baby’ I grunted. ‘But I’m going to have to fuck you really hard. Do you think you can take it?’ I began to really pound into her. ‘Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,’ she whined, her voice getting higher. ‘Fuck meeeeee!’ Her sphincter clamped hard round my cock and she began to quiver as her orgasm hit. ‘Ooooooooohhhhh,’ she moaned, head down and hair swaying. I had to jab hard to get through the spasming muscle and Soula started tossing her head from side to side going ‘Fuck! Shit! Fuck! Shit!’ as I humped her. Her legs were quivering as her orgasm rolled on and my arms around her were now almost supporting her full weight. I was close and slammed into her even harder. ‘Yaaaaaggghh!’ I grunted as the jism burst out and coated her bowels. I was dimly aware of her moaning in return. ‘Yaaarrrggg!’ I grunted again giving her rectum another spray. I hugged her tight, catching my breath. She turned her head back and we kissed long, her tongue sweet in my mouth. I eased my cock out of her butt, then took a couple of steps backwards and fell onto the bed. My cock had a couple of pale streaks of shit and several strands of semen. Soula stood, pulled her shirt, wet on the back with my sweat, over her head and knelt beside me. ‘God you’re a nasty man,’ she said as she used her undies to clean my cock. She finished and gave it a lick and a kiss before tossing the t-shirt aside and lying along side me, her splotched breasts puddling on her chest, her round tummy still heaving a little. I rolled on my side and kissed her, letting her suck on my tongue. ‘You really savaged my titties,’ she complained with a smile. ‘Even worse than last night.’ ‘Let me kiss them better,’ I said and she made a pouty face and held her hands under them for me. I very gently kissed the red marks and raspberry nipples while she said ooh and aah and that’s better. They were all soft after her orgasm, quite a different texture to before. I trailed my tongue up her chest and neck and we had another lingering kiss. ‘And my butt feels like you could park a truck in it!’ she said giving me a big eyed, accusing look. ‘You want me to kiss it better, too?’ ‘Well, maybe,’ she said, eyes sparkling. ‘But first,’ she said reaching across me for the remote control, ‘Let’s just watch that part where they do a 69.’