48 comments/ 127688 views/ 41 favorites Husband’s Wish Fulfilled By: toomuchinmyhead Don't misunderstand me, I love my husband, and he loves me, dearly. I know that there is a percentage of the population that could never understand that, and will think terrible and unkind things of us after reading this. The will claim that this is not love, and there is nothing I could tell them that would convince them otherwise. But it is love that makes him want me to be happy, to enjoy a beautiful experience that I did not know I wanted, and it is my love for him that makes me want him more, appreciate him more, desire him more. Over the course of the last several years my husband had convinced me that I should experience sex with another man. He had been my only sexual partner; I had married young, and had not experienced intercourse before meeting him. After we were married, he was away a lot for his job, weeks at a time, and we would have great sex every time he came home. After several years of marriage he brought home a sex toy as a surprise for me, a dildo; a realistic skin, thick-veined fat crown toy dick. We had never used one before, and I was a little hesitant, but so excited to see him we had hot sex right away, as we always did when he came home. The next day he wanted to use the toy. I was a little nervous, and it hurt a little the first time, just at the beginning, but then it suddenly felt awesome, so big inside me; and I felt so stuffed, stretched and completely filled, and he made me orgasm with it. After a few times I got used to the idea of being penetrated with a toy, and then started to really enjoy it. I have always cum easily, and the toy was wonderful. I liked it when he used it on me, but I liked it more when I used it on myself while he watched me. I was no stranger to masturbating, but it had always been with my fingers, alone; I was self-conscious about touching myself with my husband watching. But using the toy on myself was different, there was something between me and my hand, and it certainly felt different. It was slightly bigger than my husband and really filled me, but not big enough to hurt, just a little stretched, a little more full, more THERE. He loved watching as I slid it in and out of my wet pussy. I would close my eyes, and because it felt different, imagine it was a real cock, a different cock, doing me. One of those times, while watching me, he asked me how it felt. "Different," I managed, concentrating on it stroking slowly in and out of me, wet and slick, touching places his cock didn't. "Different from you." "It's so hot to watch," he said, "is it like another man? Is it like having sex with someone else?" He knew he was the only man I'd ever had. Despite having imagined it, I was a bit uncomfortable saying it, but my passion talked for me. "Yes," I heard myself tell him, "Like someone else, like another man is inside me." I was close to cumming, and was pushing it in, hard and slow, enjoying it stroking my insides while he watched. "Does it feel good? Does it feel real, like a real man inside you?" "M-mm, yeah, it does." My orgasm was close, and I pushed it, rubbing my clit, and my breath caught as I tensed and started cumming, crying out. He watched me, and halfway through my orgasm, said, "Would it feel better if it WAS real? Would you like another dick, for real?" My orgasm peaked a second time, and my legs shook as I came, hard. We didn't discuss it further that day, but afterwards when we used the toy he would often mention it, telling me it was real, it was a another man, and ask me to tell him how it felt having another man inside me, how it was different. Since he was gone a lot, he had always encouraged me to go out, to stay busy, not just work and stay home. I ran, I played some baseball, I joined groups. Then one of the times we were talking about what I do when he's away, he suggested that I might 'have the opportunity', and that if I did, I should 'go for it'. I asked him what he meant. "You know, another guy. Sex." I looked at him, disbelieving. "If you have the chance, you should do it." Now, I know he wasn't thrilled with being away a lot, and neither was I, but that was his job, and it kept us comfortable; we live in a nice house on several acres of woodland, near the lake with great views of the countryside. And we did have wonderful sex every time he came home. But was he really suggesting I do it with someone else? Sex was great for me; I loved it, and I loved him, but he was still my first and my only. Sex for me was very emotional, not an impersonal physical activity. He didn't press it, but he didn't let it go, either. He told me it was just sex, and I defended my position that it was an emotional connection. We talked about it a little that day, and he would bring it up from time to time, and over time I started thinking about it, and then fantasizing about it. I started thinking that I had missed out on something marrying so young, only having been with one man. But once I allowed the thought some credence I began considering it as a possibility, even as I told myself I would never actually do it. As months passed I started imagining what another man would be like. As you might guess, once I opened my mind to the possibility, my imagination led me where it would, permitting me to think of things formerly forbidden or avoided. Slowly, over time, I accepted the possibility that it COULD happen, while never believing that it WOULD happen. I gradually began looking at other men, and thinking of how they would be in bed. And with my thinking changing, my behavior followed; soon I became more aware of the attention of other men, something I had not noticed before during my married life. And I found that I enjoyed the attention, and subconsciously, I think, began to encourage it, becoming a little more flirtatious, and returning their glances. He encouraged my thinking, and that helped me get my head around the idea, and after a while I found myself considering HOW it could happen, rather than if. Wanting it to happen? Who could I do it with? Someone in town, someone who knew us, seemed awkward and impossible. We live in a small community. A stranger? Too scary. But even as I considered that my options were limited the idea became real, as I had allowed for the possibility, and I remained open to the idea. I began to take more care to dress well when I went out, even for regular daily stuff, shopping and the like; not looking slutty, but making sure I looked good. I enjoyed the attention, and the looks I got made me feel more attractive, desired, more sexual. I bought nicer bras, sexier underwear, sometimes thinking that if it happened, I would want the man to see me as a woman who believes she's sexy. I started noticing men, in the supermarket or around town, and slyly checking out guys asses, or admiring a young man's build at the gym, and wondering. My husband's frequent reassurances made it easier, and I permitted myself to fantasize about experimenting. A few months ago I was invited to a charity dance by Karen, a friend at work. I told her that my husband was away, working, and she talked me into coming alone. She was going with her husband, Paul. The dance was about thirty miles north, where Karen's sister lived; her sister and husband had invited Karen and Paul. I had not really gone out much our first years married, but in the last years, as my husband encouraged me to stay busy while he was away, going out without him had become more common. And I did like dancing, so I said I'd go. I spoke to him on the phone that night and told him about the dance; I always try to let him know when I'm going to be out in case he calls the house. He told me he wouldn't be able to call for a few days, as they were off-site, but to go and have fun. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he joked. But in the back of my mind now was the possibility he had put there. I wasn't intending to have sex, but after all this time considering it, I think I was more open to the opportunity. When Friday came Karen told me she and her husband would pick me up at my place, and we would drive the thirty miles north up to her sister's house to have a few drinks and snacks before hitting the dance. I got home a little early and started getting ready. As I said, I had learned to like dressing better, sexier, even when going out for day-to-day things, so going to a dance I took some extra care, to like the way I looked. Maybe get a few appreciative looks from some men. But thinking about that made me miss my husband. We'd been apart for a few weeks then, and I missed him, I wished he were home with me. I selected clothes before showering; a denim skirt that hit my leg about four inches above my knee, and a white tank top, with sandals, and nice underwear. Thinking of my husband had me thinking about sex; I'd been alone for so long, so it wasn't too far from my mind. But thinking about sex those days also brought on thoughts of possibly allowing it to happen, no, making it happen, if I, as my husband would say, 'have the opportunity'. It was on my mind when I went to the shower, and I trimmed my pubic hair, making sure I looked nice, in case anyone other than me should see it. After the shower I took my time doing the girly stuff, then dressed. I put on a toe ring with my sandals, then added a matching set of hummingbird necklace and earrings I loved. I checked myself in the mirror, then went back and added an ankle bracelet my husband had given me. Satisfied, and pleased with how I looked, I waited for Karen and her husband. They were right on time, and we took the forty or so minutes to get to Karen's sister's. We met, said hello's, and I found out that Karen's cousin was also coming. We sat around and chatted, having a glass of wine, and Karen's sister had made some appetizers. After a little while there was a knock at the door, and Karen's sister let in the cousin. As he made his way around, he said his friend was coming, too, he was parking his truck. He made the rounds, saying hello, and I think he may have had a drink or two already; not drunk, but further along that any of us. And then his friend came in. And, oh, his friend. I was stunned by him as he entered the room. Tall, maybe six-two, short, dark hair and beautiful green eyes, clean cut, fit and well dressed. Just a beautiful specimen of man, and I was smitten instantly. In the past I would have identified him as nice-looking, even sexy, but that would have been all. The new me, the one with the open mind to possibility, who was aware of other men and their affect on me, took him in my sights. I watched as he went around the room, saying hello, calling everyone by their name as he met them, and I trembled a little as he came to me, saying my name, "Brenda," in his deep, but soft voice. He was well-mannered and polite as he greeted me, and our eyes met, and locked, ever so briefly. I don't think anyone else noticed the sparks flying, but I know I did, and I'm pretty sure he did, too. As we all hung out, talking, he made sure to include me in conversation. God, I felt like a schoolgirl, hungry and appreciative of his attention. I forced myself to mingle, but my eyes kept drifting back to him, to look at him, drink him in, and to see if he was looking at me. Conversations settled into smaller groups, spread through the kitchen and dining room, and I found myself sitting next to Duncan, and we talked. He told me of his job, selling logging equipment, which took him away to remote places, often for weeks at a time. I told him about teaching, and we traded stories, mine focusing on being with children all day. He told me of his son, who lived with his mother, and how much he missed him when he was away. I described my husband's job, and we commiserated about being apart from loved ones. He didn't like being apart from his son, but wasn't married to the boy's mom, and she wasn't thrilled with him being away so much. I told him I understood, as my husband left me alone quite a bit. He touched my arm once, as he spoke, and thrills ran through me, electric tingling that shot through my body, and I hoped he didn't see me tremble. As we straightened up, getting ready to head out, I was helping out in the kitchen, and he caught me checking out his butt; a fine, solid man's ass. As I looked at him he turned, and I almost turned away, instantly embarrassed, but gave him an appreciative look before turning my head. A few minutes later I caught him giving me the once-over. Our eyes met again, and fireworks went off in the kitchen, although everyone seemed oblivious except for Duncan and me. "I'll drive," Paul said, "who's riding with us?" "I'll drive too," Duncan called out, "I'm meeting a friend down south later tonight, so I'm not drinking." Karen's sister and her husband went with Karen and Paul, leaving me and Karen's cousin to go in Duncan's truck. Enjoying my luck, we headed out to the cars for the dance. When we got outside I saw Duncan's truck sitting WAY up high, one of those elevated deals. I remembered him telling me of the remote places he goes for work, so it made perfect sense, but I was in a skirt. I stopped at the door, and looked at him. He grinned, and such a gentleman, helped me climb up. It was a bench seat, so I scooted to the middle and drinks-too-early climbed in after me. Again I felt like a high-schooler, getting in the hot guy's car with his friend who I wished would go away, but wouldn't. Duncan gave me a little grin as he climbed in, settling his tall frame next to me, and started the engine. "Excuse me," he said, reaching for the floor-mounted stick. I smiled, and he smiled back, and shifted into gear. The three of us chatted nonchalantly, Duncan and I pretending that there was no chemistry between us, even as I relished the accidental brushes of his leg or arm against mine. My blood was heating. The dance turned out to be a somewhat ordinary affair, and we got drinks and warmed up, talking over the DJ. I'd had two glasses of wine at the house, and now started my third, reminding myself to be careful not to get too drunk. I didn't want to lose control, or worse, get drunk and sick, so I paced myself. Duncan, true to his word, stuck with his soda, while Karen's cousin continued drinking. We pretended we were a group, but the married couples kind of separated off, and I chatted with Duncan, but for the life of me I can't remember a single thing we said; all I could do was steal sidelong glances at him, admiring his build, his face, or listening to the sound of his voice, and reveling in the effect he had on me. Every time his sparkling green eyes met mine I thought I would melt. After about an hour I went to the ladies room. I spent a few minutes after washing my hands looking in the mirror, checking myself, in that crazy girl way, when you want to look good for your man. Realizing what I was doing, I corrected myself. He's not your man, half of me said silently, he's just a guy, and you just met him. Oh, but WHAT a guy, my other half answered, and you know you want him, admit it. I tried to still myself, feeling infatuated and silly and trembly all over; a delightful, wonderful sensation. I took a couple of deep breaths and went back out. I found the others but didn't see Karen and Paul. "They had to go," drunk cousin answered when I asked about them, "some kind of family thing." I was a little disappointed, as they were really the only people I knew there. "I told them I'd drop you off," Duncan leaned in to tell me, and I smiled up at him. "I'm heading that way." He reminded me that he had plans to meet a friend of his down south of where I live. "We'll have to drop him off, though," he motioned to his friend, "he's in no shape to drive. He's on the way." I fended off a couple of dance requests from strange guys, but danced with Karen's cousin. By now he was pretty far gone, and as much as I like dancing it really wasn't much fun. I kept stealing glances at Duncan as we danced, watching his eyes, and catching myself feeling a little jealous when he glanced at other women in the hall. The song ended and I excused myself, and went back to where Duncan was standing. We chatted for a bit, when Karen's sister came up and said they were leaving, they really weren't enjoying themselves. I have to admit, that if not for Duncan, the dance was pretty lame, and I didn't blame them. Duncan reassured them that he'd get me home safe, and they got a ride from someone they knew. I'd lost track of my wine by this time, and told him I was going for another. "Bring me back a club soda?" "Sure," I told him, and headed for the bar. I got the drink, and as I returned, negotiating my way through the crowd, I saw a woman approaching Duncan. As I stepped up behind him she was finishing asking him to dance. "Thanks for the offer," I heard him say, "but I don't think my wife would appreciate it." She made a pouty face and left. I waited a second, and then came around him and handed him his drink. We sipped and I put mine down on a nearby table. The DJ started a song I liked, and I felt suddenly bold. I put my cup on a nearby table and took his, setting it next to mine, and took his hand. "Come on, husband," I joked, letting him know he was caught in his game, "dance with your wife." He grinned sheepishly as I led him out on the floor. He danced wonderfully, so unlike my husband. My God, I thought, is there nothing he can't do? We swept around the floor, and every touch, every move he made, was a singular delight. We stayed out for three straight songs, talking occasionally, leaning in to each other for a sentence or two. We watched Karen's cousin getting turned down a lot. He'd had a few dances earlier, but the ladies were catching on that he was a little too inebriated, and we had an amused chuckle at his expense. "You're pretty good," he commented, watching my legs. "You like dancing?" "I love it," I told him. "I don't really do it enough. You're pretty good yourself." He smiled at the compliment. When the third song ended, I was going to take a break, and stopped, but the DJ started a slow song, one I liked, and Duncan's eyes met mine and he pulled me back, taking me into his arms, and I molded my body to his and we danced together, slowly, feeling the heat from each other's bodies through our clothes. Suddenly my lack of recent intimacy took over, assisted by the wine and the undeniable physical attraction. I pressed myself against him, feeling his arm around me, touching my back, his other in my hand. I rested my head against his chest; he was a full head taller than me, so the height was perfect, and we moved, slowly, enjoying the closeness. The song ended too quickly; I could have danced like that all night, I think. We went back to try and find our drinks, but couldn't, there were too many other glasses there. We sat for a while, talking again, watching the crowd, but we sat closer now, no longer pretending that we didn't feel something, not trying to hide it anymore. He touched my arm sometimes as he spoke, and once put his hand on my knee, and then pulled it back. I missed it as soon as it was gone. I pretended once that I couldn't hear him, so he would lean closer, and talk into my ear. My ears are sensitive, and I get really turned on when they are touched, and feeling his breath on them, knowing his lips were so close, just inches away, made me hot. I did it a couple of more times, feeling the tingle from my ears, down my spine to my pussy. Duncan went up for drinks, but when he got back the DJ was announcing the last set. I grinned, thinking well, there's another drink I would leave on the table. He smiled back and took my hand and led me out onto the floor. I floated after him, watching his legs and his butt as he worked through the dancing couples to an open spot. We stayed up the entire set, until the DJ announced last song, and cued up "I Want To Know What Love Is" by Foreigner. We looked at each other, a long second, and silently agreed which direction this night would go. I slipped in close, and snuggled into him, feeling his chin rest on top of my head. I pressed my leg between his, my crotch on his thigh, and our bodies shifted to the music; not dancing, really, just swaying slightly, pressing our bodies against each other. My head was swimming, and I wrapped my arms tightly around his back, pulling him closer. I know he knew what I was doing, and he let me know it, pressing back, and softly singing parts of the song in my ear. Feeling his lips at my ear again, whispering the song, the electricity ran through me, tingling right to my pussy rubbing against his leg, and I felt my panties getting a little steamy. And then his hands confidently slipped down my back, over my ass, and he pulled my pelvis against him as the song ended. Husband’s Wish Fulfilled He pulled his head up, and I craned my neck and he put his arms around me. His face moved closer and I felt like we were alone in the room; the people all disappeared, leaving just us, and I felt my breath catch as his face came closer. But he angled, and kissed my cheek as he hugged me tightly. "Thanks for the wonderful dance," he said softly. I was lost for words, wanting him to kiss me, hard and long, right there on the floor in front of everyone, not caring who saw, who cared. I didn't. But I peeled myself from him slowly, saying nothing, thinking only of his mouth, imagining his lips on mine, disappointed and eager as we walked from the floor, holding hands. We gathered up our stuff and his drunk friend and headed out to his truck. Once again he helped me inside, this time taking a long look at my legs as I climbed in, and I enjoyed his eyes wandering over me. Drank Too Much climbed in after, and started bemoaning his awful luck at having to go home alone. Duncan and I grinned at the situation despite not being able to be alone. We dropped him at his house, and when we pulled away I stayed close to him. Once he bumped my knee as he shifted. "Ouch," I faked, "I think you hurt me." "Sorry about that," he said, and rubbed his hand lightly on my knee, then held it there a second. When I felt it slipping away, I put my hand over his and held it there, loving the feeling of his touch on my skin. There was a full moon, and we drove silently, enjoying the romantic moonlight. As we left the highway to head for my house, he saw the signs for the lake. "How far is that from here?" he asked. "Just a couple of miles, not far from my house." "Is it big? I'd like to see it, if you don't mind." If I didn't mind? I wasn't ready for the evening to end, I was feeling so good with him, so I agreed, and pointed the way. We got there quickly, and parked, and he came out to help me down, watching my legs slip out from under my skirt as I slid down, holding his offered hand. W e closed the truck, and he kept my hand in his as we walked down to the path to the lakeside picnic area. We stood there, holding hands and looking at the stars. (For you city folks, take the opportunity one night and get out in the country, far from city lights and see the night sky in its full glory, it is a wonder to behold.) I love seeing the night sky, but as we stood there, holding hands silently, like silly teenagers, I wondered if he was going to kiss me, or if I would have to make the first move. He slipped behind me, resting his ass on the edge of a table, and pulled me back against him, my butt nestled into his crotch. I snuggled in close, and he wrapped one arm around my stomach as he pointed out a constellation he knew with his other hand. Directing my gaze, he lowered his head, so his face was next to mine. I could feel the heat from his skin in the cool night, could smell him, feel his breath on my cheek. I had my head up, looking at the stars, and he turned his head slightly, and I felt his lips brush the side of my neck, below my ear. I leaned back, pressing myself into him, and turned my head, giving him access to my throat, and moaned a little as he placed light, tender kisses on my throat. I felt him stop them, but I would have none of that, and I turned to face him, looking into those beautiful green eyes, and then put my arms up under his, feeling his back, pressing him to me as I lifted my face to his. He kissed me then, lightly at first, tentatively, and I swooned like a teenager. His kisses became more insistent, and his arms wrapped around me, holding me to him, and I returned the kiss, my lips parting for his, feeling his tongue touch mine. It felt so strange, so exciting to be kissing someone else; so forbidden and illicit, and I didn't care. I pressed myself against him and we kissed for a while, getting hotter, and I felt him getting hard against me. I pressed myself against his growing erection, squirming a little, and looked into his eyes. "Do you want to go up to the house?" He kissed me lightly on the lips. "Yes," he said softly. We went back to the truck, and kissed again before getting in, our hands rubbing each other's bodies, feeling the urgency and desire in us. We got in, not talking, and I was grateful that the lake is only ten minutes away, I needed to get him inside, and fast! As soon as we were in the door we were kissing again, madly, tongues inside each other's mouths, and I was breathing heavily. Our hands were exploring each other, but staying away from anything sexual, just rubbing each other's arm and backs and sides, and I was grinding my hips into his leg, feeling his hardness against my belly. I broke the kiss, needing to catch my breath, and not wanting to rush. "Would you like something to drink?" I whispered hoarsely, betraying my passion. He held me close to him, looking down into my upturned face. "I'd love one," he told me. I slipped from his arms and he followed me, silently watching as I opened some wine. As I gave him his glass, I asked, "Would you .. uh ... like to go upstairs? It's more comfortable," and I cringed inside at how cheesy it must have sounded. "Hell yes!" he said, relieving my momentary anguish, and I led him upstairs to my bedroom. At the side of the bed we kissed again, slowly and luxuriously, and I felt delirious with passion and now, need. His hands were on my arms, holding me above the elbow as we kissed, and then he slid them up slowly, grazing my bare skin with his fingertips as our tongues danced together, and then his hands were on my shoulders, and he subtly pressed down. Taking the hint I eased to my knees in front of him, rubbing his strong thighs, staring at the bulge in his pants, mentally gauging his size, thinking he might be bigger than my husband. My hands drifted to his crotch and I massaged him through his jeans, feeling the hardness inside, sensing the heat and power emanating from his member. He reached for his waistband and undid his pants, and I helped them down, sliding my hands up his bare thighs, and leaned in to kiss his cock through his briefs, straining to escape. I planted kisses up the length of it and decided he was definitely bigger. Needing to touch it, to feel it, I pulled his briefs down, exposing him to me, and my pussy tingled and moistened more at the sight of him, hard and swollen, standing proudly from his body. I took the base in my hand and kissed along his length, worshipping his erection, delighting at the feel of the hot, thin skin on my lips, finally reaching the crown, and after a lick at the underside, I opened my mouth and took his huge cockhead between my lips. It felt so wonderful, filling my mouth, my tongue swirling around the spongy mass, and then I pushed down, fitting him as deep into my mouth as I could handle, and began sucking, bobbing my head, slowly at first, then more quickly, feeling his shaft slipping between my lips, wet with my saliva. I heard him groan, and was glad he was enjoying it as much as I was. He reached down for me, his hands sliding down from my shoulders, down my back, and I struggled to hold him in my mouth as he reached the bottom of my shirt, and I pulled away momentarily to allow him to take if off me, and helped him with my bra. Topless, I sucked him back in as he straightened, and reached for my breasts, teasing my sensitive nipples as I sucked his wonderful cock. I was almost disappointed when he stopped me, and pulled me up, and kissed me again, feeling his lips on mine, wet from sucking him. He pulled back from the kiss wordlessly and reached for my skirt, opening it and letting it slip to my ankles; as I stepped out of it his hand went between my legs and stroked me through my panties. I felt an orgasm beginning; as I said, I tend to cum easily, and oh, did I want him to make me cum! I knew he could feel how wet I was, and his fingers were so good, rubbing across my lips. He turned me then, my back facing to the bed, and pushed me gently back, lowering me to the bed. I looked up at him from my elbows as he removed his shirt, and he crouched down naked between my legs and reached for my panties, and I lifted my hips to let him slide them off. He moved up between my legs, spreading them with his hands, and returned my oral caresses. He was kneeling on the floor, my hips at the edge of the bed, and he began licking me; my lips first, sending tingles throughout my body, and slowly dragging his tongue up to my clit. My button was hard, and I was wet and ready, and I wanted him inside me, but as soon as he began stimulating my little button, I felt my first climax, rushing at me, taking me without preamble, and he stayed there, working me through a series of small orgasms, writhing on the tip of his tongue. He let me come down then, grinning up at me from between my legs, and looked up at me, his lips glistening with my wetness, and crawled up between my legs. Oh, my God, I thought, here it comes, and I scooted back, making room for him to climb onto the bed between my legs. My body trembled in anticipation as only the second man ever in my life settled his naked flesh between my legs, feeling his skin on the insides of my thighs, his hands caressing me, running over my bare flesh, eager to feel him penetrate me, to feel him inside me. I wanted to feel all of him against all of me, to feel all of his body on mine. He moved up, closer, and I was breathless, waiting for it, wanting it, dripping for it, wanting to feel him inside me. The anticipation was killing me. My pussy was wet and open from his mouth, and I felt it ruling me, directing my actions, taking over my brain. I wanted him so bad, and I waited as he approached, seeming to take forever when all I could think of was him getting inside me. And then I felt the first touch of his hard flesh at the lips of my pussy, and I felt my orgasm poised at the edge, but he didn't enter me; he teased me, rubbing his dick on my lips, opening them, sliding it up to my clit, rubbing there, pushing me closer, then sliding back down to rub against my opening, hinting at the impending pleasure as his head touched me. I was panting with excitement already, and then I felt him push, and the head slipped inside, opening me, entering just a little, and then he pulled back, watching my hips follow him, trying to take him back. He rubbed more on the outside of my pussy, teasing me, making me groan, my hips pulsing up, trying to capture him. He entered again, and I braced myself for his full length and width but he pulled back again, rubbing and sliding in my wetness, touching my hard button mercilessly, keeping me on the edge. "Please," I gasped, "please stop teasing," I pleaded, looking into his eyes as they sparkled mischievously. "What do you want?" he asked in a deep, hoarse whisper. Could he not tell from my open legs, my breathing, my pulsing hips? What is it about men and their need to hear a woman speak her desires out loud? "I want you inside me," I squeaked. I am not one for filthy talk, even in bed. But my desire did my talking for me. "I want your dick in me. In my pussy, please," I told him timidly, hoping this confession was enough. I watched him smile just slightly, and then his expression changed, his look became more intent, and I felt his muscles shift under my hands, holding him at his shoulders, and the head slipped inside me, slowly, and this time it didn't stop. It kept coming in, filling me, stretching me a little; I felt my pussy resist his size, then give way, accepting his length, welcoming him, and he slid all the way in, filling me, and my orgasm peaked and I came, hard, crying out my pleasure as I felt all of him inside me. All my pent up lust and passion released, the anticipation finally satisfied, the eagerness met and fulfilled as I came, flushing him in my juices, feeling myself clench and become wetter. He kissed me then, as I came, kissing my open mouth until the crest passed, and I kissed him back, feeling him, definitely bigger, fuller inside me, not hurting, but stretched in an oh, so wonderful way! He lay on top of me, pressing his body onto mine, his hard shaft fully inside me, only the second man ever to be in me, and I was delirious with sensation and wonder. My hands were all over his back, his ass, his shoulders as we kissed and his wonderful hard cock filled me. And then his hips flexed, and we continued kissing as he pulled back, slightly, and began pumping slowly in and out of my heated pussy. All my awareness was on our lips touching, our tongues dancing, and his slick, hard shaft slipping out, then sliding back in, filling me again and again, slowly and completely. We stayed in that position the whole time, his full body on top of me, pressing down on me as he pumped in and out, searing my body with sensations. We kissed madly, and then he raised his head and we stared hungrily at each other as he continued pumping, not speaking. I could hear my wetness as he slid in; a delicious naughty sound announcing my pleasure. His thrusts became more urgent, and I watched his face change, become more intent, feeling his orgasm approaching even as mine built inside me. He pushed into me, harder, feeling deeper, feeling him banging against my hard button each time, pulling most of the way out, leaving me vacant and desperate, then pushing back in completely. My orgasm built, teetered, and then I was cumming again, and I cried out, my legs wrapped around his, holding him as I came, and then he was cumming too, I stared at him as his face clenched and his chest and back muscles tightened, and he jerked himself into me, feeling him spasm inside he, filling me with his cum, feeling the liquid heat coating me, his cock still hard inside, as I overflowed and his semen forced out, dripping down the crack of my ass, soaking me as my climax receded and ended. His body relaxed, and he lay on me, pressing himself onto my entire body, feeling his weight, his skin on mine as I tingled in the afterglow of our mutual climax. After a few moments of enjoying the bliss, feeling the warmth of his cum flooding me and his body heat seeping into my skin he slowly raised himself up, and slipped himself out of me slowly. Thinking he would roll over and lay next to me I started to roll over but he held me still, and moved up my body, straddling my chest, bringing his spent member to my face. This was not something I was accustomed to, but my lust acted before I could form a conscious objection, and I opened my mouth and began sucking. I was not familiar with my own flavor, and did not swallow in the past, but I found myself enthusiastically sucking his softening shaft, licking our combined juices from him, and not disliking the taste. Part of me loved how dirty I was acting, sucking his spent shaft and his semen and my own flavor, and liking that he enjoyed it. It felt important to me that he was pleased, and he moaned at my oral attention until he was soft, and he slipped from my mouth, slick and cleaned, and rolled to my side. My body relaxed, and I started to fade, feeling a little sleepy after the rewarding exertion, so I struggled to my feet and went to the shower to clean up. He followed me in, and we washed each other, and then dried off, and returned to the bed. We cuddled to one side, avoiding the large wet spot I had left from our fun, spooning out bodies, his arm wrapped around me, and we slept. Early in the morning I woke to see him still sleeping next to me, on his back. I watched him sleeping, listening to his steady breathing, and thoughts of the previous night's adventure ran through my head. I felt no guilt; rather the extreme satisfaction and a little elation and pride in my actions. I had done it! I had experienced another man, here in my marital bed. I was astounded that I had made it happen, had enjoyed it so thoroughly, and had no regrets. In fact, thinking of what I had done aroused my desire again, and I started feeling the tingle of horniness again. Feeling brave and enabled by desire, I slipped the covers down off him, exposing his naked body to my eyes, drinking in the sight of him. My eyes settled on his flaccid dick, dangling off to the side, and stifling a giggle I moved myself into position above him and took his large, soft meat into my mouth. It was different, sucking him soft, and I relished the feel of the soft flesh in my mouth, feeling dirty and naughty and horny. He began to respond, and I loved the feel of him growing in my mouth. He drifted awake as he hardened, and I looked up into his eyes to see his delight at my behavior. I grinned at him, my lips smirking around his erection, and he started to move but I put a hand on his stomach, and held him still, and let him watch as I worked him with my mouth. He settled back and let me continue. I started sucking him in earnest, wanting to please him, and enjoying the feel of him in my mouth. As I worked the head with my lips and tongue, then adding my hand, stroking his solid shaft, I realized that my lust had put me in a position from which I could not retreat. I had let him know that I wanted to suck him off, and it occurred to me then that he would expect me to finish. I suck my husband frequently, but not to completion, and I don't swallow his cum. But as the thought hit me, I knew I would do that for Duncan. I wanted to please him; I wanted him to be happy with my actions, to give him pleasure, and to enjoy it myself. I decided I would go all the way, make him cum, and I would swallow, both for him, and for me. Energized by my decision, I began sucking more aggressively, working him harder and urging his release, and I soon felt him beginning to respond, first grunting his pleasure, then moaning, and then feeling small pulses in his hips. He was kind enough not to force himself deeper, and allowed me to pleasure him with my mouth. I felt the pulses become more frequent, more urgent, and I knew he was getting closer. I redoubled my efforts, excited at the thought that I would finish him, swallow him, feel him shoot his climax into my mouth. I started making little excited noises as I sucked, and I was really aroused, even though I was not being stimulated. And then I felt him stiffen, and his cock swelled in my mouth, and I heard him grunt deliciously, and I closed my lips around his head as the first shot erupted, shooting into my mouth. It was so hot, and I was so excited by the action that I didn't notice the flavor until after; as he spurted I allowed it to fill my mouth, coating my tongue, noting the texture and flavor, and I swallowed, excited and proud that I was swallowing my lover's release, and that I was enjoying it. It was another new experience for me, and again I felt proud of myself for the pleasure I had given him. It made me feel even better when he was done, and he relaxed and I lifted my head to see him smiling, and he pulled me up to him and kissed me. I hadn't expected that, and it made me feel so good, so warm, that I had been so nasty to swallow his cum and he still wanted to kiss me. My husband prefers not to kiss me after I've had his dick in my mouth, and here was this wonderful sexy man kissing me after I swallowed his cum! I lay on top on him, our lips and tongues sharing the remnants of his climax, until we lay staring into each other's eyes, grinning like only fools and lovers do. It was wonderful, and I felt so good. We struggled out of bed and mostly dressed. "Hungry?" I asked. I was still delighted that he had spent the night, and not disappeared after sex. In the back of my mind I'd been a little afraid of that, of feeling cheap and used, but he'd stayed, and then I wanted to take care of him. "Definitely," he replied, and followed me downstairs to the kitchen. "I drink tea," I told him, "but I can make coffee if you prefer." Husband’s Wish Fulfilled "Yes, please, coffee," he told me, "definitely coffee in the morning." He paused. "I'd like to take you out to breakfast." "Oh, no, I couldn't," I told him, fetching the coffee and tea. "Too many prying eyes, I think." I brewed a pot of coffee, and boiled water for my tea. When it was done, I started making breakfast, and he smiled. I was glad I could make him comfortable. It was late morning already; we would have slept later except that I had sucked him awake. He was looking out the window at the property. "That's some view," he commented as I spooned the scrambled eggs onto plates. We have a large window at the back of the kitchen, overlooking our property. From the table you look out over a field, bordered by trees, with mountains in the background. "Is all that yours?" "Not the mountains," I kidded, "but pretty much everything else you can see." I brought the eggs to the table and sat next to him, looking out. It's one of my favorite pastimes, and sharing it with him felt more personal than sex. I got a warm tingle through me. "We can go walk around after breakfast, I can show you around." "That sounds nice, I'd like that." We finished breakfast in silence, and got the rest of our clothes on to go outside. I wore denims and a tank top, without a bra. My husband likes me braless; he says I look sexy, and now I wanted to look sexy for Duncan. We walked the property for a few hours, enjoying holding hands and being together. It was a beautiful, clear September day, just a hint of changing colors, warm in the sun, and cool under the trees. There are trails and roads through the property, and we walked slowly, enjoying the foliage. As we went out, I sensed a little rising unease in him, even though my husband was away and he knew it. "I want you to know," I started as we walked, "that I'm okay with this." "Just okay?" he asked, grinning. "I'm a little better than that." I grinned sheepishly, a little embarrassed at the compliment. "That's not what I meant," I said playfully, "and you know it." I squeezed his arm as we walked. "And yes, it was a lot better than okay." I took a breath, unsure of how much to say. I felt like I wanted to spill everything to this man, my new lover, to tell him about me as completely as I had given myself sexually. For some reason this felt more difficult, more exposing. I steeled myself and began again. "But I wanted you to know that I don't do this." "You don't walk in the woods on your own property?" he chided, "or you don't have sex?" "Stop it," I pleaded, "please don't joke, this is important, and it's hard for me." "I'm sorry," he apologized, "Go ahead, I won't interrupt." I had to take a few breaths before starting again. "I've never done this before. Bringing someone home. When my husband is away." My voice was a little squeaky and thin from my nervousness. Why was I afraid, I thought. I'd already had sex with him, he was warm, and inviting, and handsome and caring. Was I afraid he'd reject me? Afraid of telling too much, scaring him away? What we'd shared had been so wonderful, so fulfilling and exciting and rewarding and delicious – I wanted more, I wanted it to continue. To be more than sex, to be a – boyfriend? I pushed the fears back into my head and screwed up my courage. "I don't bring men home. You are my very first. This is the only time I've ever done this, in fact." I swallowed, braced myself. "Actually, you're only the second man I've ever had sex with." There, it was out. "My husband was my first, and before last night I had only ever done it with him." Now that I had started, the words began spilling out on their own, as if floodgates had opened, and I let it go. "We've been married for ten years, and I told you, he's away a lot, so I'm alone a lot, you know, and he's been, well, encouraging me to, you know, do something, something like this, for a while now." I took a breath; I felt like I was blabbering, and tried to slow down. "Because he's away, and he leaves me alone. He's okay with it, I guess I'm trying to say, you don't have to worry, it was his idea originally, he's okay with it, and I'm okay with it." I waited for a reaction, but he let me talk. "I mean, it's was my idea, last night, don't get me wrong, that was all me," I continued, unable now to stop myself. "I didn't do it for him, I did it because I wanted to, because I wanted you." I blushed with my confession, and I felt my nipples harden under my tank top. If he looked he'd see them poking out. God, I felt almost naked, physically and emotionally. "But I wanted you to know that he's okay with it, that he won't be jealous or crazed and come hunting you, or anything." He looked sideways at me, and he was smiling a little. He stopped walking and turned to me. "Are you trying to put me at ease, Brenda?" I tried foolishly to hide my embarrassment, and ended up feeling again like a schoolgirl, explaining how I had confessed to a boy that I liked him. But I was explaining that he need not be concerned about my husband's reaction to having sex with me. And I wanted him to be comfortable, because I didn't want him to leave. "Well, yes, I guess, a little," I stammered. "I just want you to know that he's not coming home, and that you don't need to feel any, I don't know, regrets." "Regrets?" he asked, taking me by the shoulders. "Not likely." I smiled again, and felt my nipples harden more. I wondered if he saw them, and thinking there was no way he couldn't notice. "Maybe regret was too strong a word, then," I smiled. "But I wouldn't want you second-guessing, or worrying." I looked up at him, and his green eyes were drilling into me, and I melted a little. My nipples were aching now. "He won't be upset. He wanted me to do it." I felt I was over-explaining, and shut my mouth. He leaned down to my face and kissed me lightly. "And you? Did you want to?" "You know I did." "Yes," he said, looking into my eyes. His gaze darted to my chest, and I know he saw my hard nipples poking through my shirt. "I know you wanted to. And I'm glad." I threw my arms around him and hugged him to me, feeling his strong, sexy body pressed against me. "And when we get back," I said into his chest, "I want to again." He held me then, just the two of us in the woods, together, surrounded by the foliage and the birds, and our attraction to each other. "I think I can stay a little while longer," he said above my head. I felt his breath in my hair. "But I have to go later. I was supposed to meet my friend last night," he said, and lifted my chin to look at him. "But I got distracted. I really should call him." I felt him chuckle as he held me, and I loved the feel of him. "When we get back to the house, yeah?" I asked. "Will he be angry?" "I think he'll understand." I smacked his chest lightly, and left my hand there, feeling his chest though his shirt. He kissed me again, and we headed back to the house. He called when he got in, and I stood next to him as they talked. He was explaining that he would be late, was already late. I was smiling at him, feeling erotic and playful and mischievous. I leaned into him as he talked. "No, no problem, it's all right," he told his friend. I began rubbing the front of his pants as he spoke, and he tried to twist away. "No, no, just-," he tried to move my hand with his free one, but I pulled free and rubbed him. "No, something came up." He grinned at me past the phone. I grinned back, and felt him getting larger. I stifled a giggle unsuccessfully. "Yeah, something like that," he managed as I continued stroking his growing member in his pants. It looked like it was getting tight in there, and he stumbled through the rest of his conversation, and hung up. "You," he said, grabbing me and wrapping me in his arms, my back against him, and laughing carelessly. "You are trouble." He kissed my neck, and I pressed my butt back into him. "Are you looking for trouble?" I asked. "I already found her," he said, and turned me effortlessly, and kissed me, and we went back upstairs, this time Duncan leading me. When we entered the bedroom Duncan reached for me, and pulled my tank top up over my head, tossing it to the side. I loved that he took control like that, and my pussy tingled, getting wet instantly. I stood there with my breasts exposed, my nipples still hard with my arousal. He gazed at them, and then reached for them, stroking them, tenderly caressing the sides, with both hands. "I love your breasts," he said. He didn't call them tits. His hands cupped both of them, holding them, squeezing them firmly, but not roughly, feeling wonderful on me. A little hard; eager, not coarse. He slipped them off, brushing my nipples as his hands moved. My nipples were so sensitive from being erect all day, and tingles ran from my chest to my pussy. He took both of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed, lightly, then harder, pulling them out, elongating them, making then harder and sending bolts of pleasure through me. I gasped at the sensations and my knees wobbled a little and I groaned. I stepped into him, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him backwards to the bed, dragging him on top of me. He slipped his body down, undid my pants and pulled them off me with my panties, leaving me naked while he was still dressed. He moved down between my legs, and I braced for the feel of his tongue, spreading my legs. But he didn't lick me, his hands went back up to my breasts, toying with my nipples, teasing and stimulating me. He was controlling my pleasure, determining the pace and intensity. Having him take the lead excited me more and my pussy clenched and dripped with desire. "Show me," he said, "show me how wet you are." I spread my legs for him and he looked more closely at me. I felt exposed and a little embarrassed, but wanted to follow his lead. He reached up and took my hands. "No," he said, not angrily but sternly, letting me know he would not brook a refusal. "Show me," he repeated, placing my hands at my pussy. "Show me how wet you are." He was looking into my face as he said it, but looked at my hands as he guided them between my legs and released them. I watched his face as I placed my hands on my wet lips and spread them for him, wanting inside for him to like what he saw, to be pleased with my excitement. "I want to taste you," he said, and I thought again that he would lick me, but he moved one hand to the entrance of my dripping hole. "I want you to give me a taste." He didn't look at me, just watched my hands moving. I used my free hand to hold myself open and touched a finger to my opening, feeling the slick syrupy juices that pool at the opening between my lips, swirling them, teasing myself, and then raised it to him, offering my flavor to him. He opened his mouth and took the fingertip inside, sucking it clean, then pulled it out and returned it to my hole. "Inside this time," he said quietly, but without restraint, and I complied, slipping my finger inside me, slowly, pushing it all the way, watching his face as I inserted it. I had a twinge of self-consciousness, but pushed it aside, wanting him to see me, wanting to share this most private activity. I felt my juices rush out to me, coating my finger, feeling the heat inside me, and imagining how it would feel on his cock, to feel that heat, that slick wetness, and my pussy reacted, clenching my finger. When it was all the way in I pushed harder, wanting now for him to see me finger myself, to show him that I wanted to do what he wanted, to show him how I wanted to be naughty for him. I groaned as my finger pressed deeper and my knuckles pressed against my clit. I slipped it out then, offering it to him, my gift to him; a taste of my excitement, taken from me by me, for him to enjoy, He sucked it greedily, swirling his tongue around my finger, extracting all of my flavor, and then returning it to my waiting pussy. "Two this time," he told me, and my index finger joined the middle one, and I pushed them both deeply inside, quickly, feeling the penetration, wanting it to be him, but waiting for him to want to do it to me, substituting my own hand for what I wanted to feel from him. I was hot, and fingered myself forcefully, grunting as my fingers pumped in and out of my wet hole for him. I moved my other hand, releasing my labia, and slid them to my clit, massaging my hard button as I fingered my wet hole. I felt my orgasm begin to hint at me, letting me know it would be there soon. I offered him my fingers again, and teased my clit as he sucked them clean and returned them. I was lost in the moment now, playing with myself for me as much as for him, the thrill of him watching me making me more excited as I brought myself closer to orgasm. Several more times I offered him my fingers, and each time he sucked my juices from me, until the last time, when he took my wrist and brought my hand to my face. Knowing what he wanted I opened my mouth and accepted it, tasting myself on my fingers the way I had tasted them on his cock, but just me, now. In all the times I had ever masturbated I had never tasted myself, never been tempted, but I sucked my fingers greedily as he watched, and I liked it, liked tasting myself. It was a little tangy and musky and I felt like a naughty, dirty girl, and my fingers rubbed furiously on my clit, and I came, hard, as he teased my nipples. I groaned around the fingers in my mouth, noticing the scent of my passion in my nostrils, the slight tangy flavor in my mouth, then forgetting them for my fingers at my clit, his fingers on my nipples, and my glorious explosion. Then he was kissing me, and my fingers slipped from my mouth, stroking his face and his lips where they met mine. Our tongues shared my flavor, and I liked it, liked that he liked it. He pulled back, sitting back on his feet; my orgasm receded, but my hand still at my clit, rubbing lightly. "That was very nice," he told me, and began undressing. "I like to watch you cum." As he pulled his pants off I saw that he had liked it a lot, he was hard and full and the head of his cock was slightly red, almost angry, and I wanted him inside me desperately. Naked, he kissed me again, and then told me to roll over. I did, my face in the sheets, and he got behind me and I felt his hands at my hips, pulling them up, exposing my pussy and ass to him. I felt even more exposed than when I fingered myself, and my body reacted, my desire welling up, wanting to be exposed to him, wanting him to see me as his, ready for him, wanting him. I wanted him to take me, hard and strong, to make me his. My head was down and I felt his hands, his wonderful fingers, exploring me, caressing the backs of my thighs, my wet pussy, my ass, gliding smoothly across my bare cheeks. He ran a finger down my crack, across my back hole, teasing me, and then down to my pussy, just touching my clit. He teased it for a second, making me squirm with delight, and then trailed it back up, between my lips, touching my opening, and then back up my crack to my tight anus. I felt his hands on my butt cheeks, pressing, spreading them, and then hot breath, and suddenly his tongue, down my crack, settling on my tight star. Chills went through me as his tongue teased the outside of my back door, sending shockwaves to my pussy and making my nipples hard as rocks. I had never had my ass licked before, but I was sexed and horny and doing whatever he wanted, and Damn! It felt incredible! I sensed my orgasm building, and wondered if I could cum from having my ass licked. I had tried anal sex a few times with my husband, but it was something I tolerated; I didn't really like it. But his tongue felt so good, and I wondered if he would want to do my ass, and I started thinking, as delicious as his tongue felt on my little ring of muscle, that this might ruin everything. What I really wanted was his big hard cock in my pussy, and I told him to stop, and he did, giving my cheeks a squeeze and pulling away. His hands never left my ass; he must have lined himself up using only his hips, and I felt his spongy head push into my open pussy, resting there, my orgasm poised to pounce, and he drove fully into me in one stroke and I came, hard, my breath whooshing out as he filled me, and my body stiffened and I fell flat on the bed, pulling off his wonderful shaft. As soon as I could breath I cried out with the crest of my orgasm, shaking as it receded and calmed. "Wow," he said. "That was amazing. Do you always cum that fast?" I struggled for breath and looked back at him over my shoulder. He was grinning, and his hard, beautiful cock was glistening with my juice. I wanted to suck it, but only said. "Not that quickly," and smiled, adding. "I told you I orgasm easily, but not that fast." And then I grinned back. "Or that hard." He gave me another few seconds, and then pulled me back up to my knees, pushing my knees apart with his, exposing me for his pleasure. I felt completely submissive, and incredibly hot, and then he pushed himself back into me, filling my hot hole with his thick shaft, touching every inch of my wet tunnel, bumping at the back wall. His hands wandered over my ass cheeks as he stroked in and out of me, leaving me empty and hollow and needy every time he pulled back. And every delicious time he pushed back in, I felt obedient and fulfilled and desired and loved. His fingers drifted to my crack, settling at my ass as he stroked, and I let him now, enjoying the sensations coupled with his strokes. His cock rubbed the walls of my pussy, and his fingertips stroked my tight back hole. He pushed his cock harder, and I felt him press his finger at my anus. I was grunting with the pounding in my pussy, and felt another orgasm building. His finger felt so good on my ass, so strange, so new, and I felt my ass relax and found myself pushing my hips up to the pressure of his finger. I thought then that if he wanted to take my ass, I would let him, want him, enjoy him. I wanted him to push his finger in, God, how I wanted it, to feel his finger in my ass while he pounded my wet pussy! My orgasm was building stronger now, my slick walls clenching at his cock, my ass pushing back, and my tight rear hole relaxing, opening, wanting him in both my holes. His strokes picked up their pace, faster and harder, and I knew he was close. The tremors began in my toes and hands, travelling to my stomach and chest, and right before I exploded he pushed his finger into my ass, and I came, hard and wet, crying out my ecstasy as his finger entered me fully, and then his cock pressed fully into me, shooting his cum, splashing my insides, filling me with his hot load, feeling him pulse as I clenched his finger and cock in my spasms. My pussy flooded, and cum oozed out past his shaft, down my legs as he took several more slow strokes, and eased himself from my sated pussy. As he slipped out I felt his hot juices flow out of me, and I looked under me, between my breasts to see several fat globs drip out of me. The phrase 'felt like he came a gallon" seemed an understatement. For some reason I thought of the mess it would leave on the sheets, but I was distracted as he came to the side of me, offering me his softening member. Still on my hands and knees, I opened my mouth and took him in, sucking his cum and mine from his shaft, relishing the delicious flavor of our passion. I sucked him as deep as I could, cleaning off his wonderful cock, and sucking and licking the rest of his shaft with my lips and tongue, cooing and moaning. And then suddenly his cock pulled away and his face was next to mine, and he kissed me, sharing the remnants of our juices in a deep, passionate kiss. As I said, my husband never kisses me after I suck him, but Duncan seemed to like it, at least as much as he liked having me suck him after cumming inside me. I reached a hand to his neck, and held his face to mine, enjoying our wet, messy kiss, an enjoying him for wanting it. Husband’s Wish Fulfilled He lay down next to me, cuddling for a while, but then he started to fidget a little, and I knew it was time for him to go. Just as I thought it, he said, "I really have to go." I made the first move to get up, so he wouldn't have to feel uncomfortable. "Your friend is going to start calling hospitals," I joked, and he smiled at me, warmly and appreciatively. "You're wonderful," he said, sitting up, and I took a long last look at his naked body, searing it into my memory. "This was so good. I am really glad I met you." "Me, too," I said, handing him his clothes. I stayed naked, wanting him to remember me this way, undressed and ready for him. "I hope it's not goodbye forever." "I'd like that, to see you again." He stood and buckled his pants. "I'd like that too," I told him. "So-o," he said, buttoning his shirt, hiding his wonderful chest from my view, "we can do this again sometime?" "Just try not to make me wait too long." "That's a deal," he said, and I threw some clothes on as we talked about when my husband would be home, and when he would be away again, and how he could contact me. We walked to the door making plans to see each other again. I was hardly paying attention, thinking to myself how excited I was, how wonderful the weekend had been, and loving that I'd had such a wonderful experience. At the door we kissed, and he pinched my nipples through my tank top, sending searing bolts of pleasure through me yet again. I groaned into his mouth as we kissed, then pulled back. "You have to stop," I said breathlessly, half of me wanting him to keep going, to never stop. He looked in my eyes, then at my nipples, hard again under my shirt. "That's so you'll be thinking about me," he grinned, and kissed me again, and left. I watched from the door as he went to his truck and pulled away. I stayed there, felling my nipples still hard, thinking about him till his truck disappeared from sight, then closed the door. It had turned out better than I could have dreamed; no impersonal sex, no regrets, and an emotional connection with overwhelming physical attraction. God, I thought, I hope this is what my husband wanted for me, because I certainly enjoyed it immensely!