Lucinda and Charles
by Arachnophile
My husband, Charles, loves me. Of that, I am certain. I love him very much and would never want to hurt his feelings. That is why I had carefully hidden the three love affairs I'd had since our marriage twenty years ago. I hadn't cheated on Charles because he wasn't attentive, or wasn't a good lover. In fact, he was surprised to learn that he is the standard by which I judged the others. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I also didn't do it in revenge for an affair of his. No, I'm not dissatisfied with my husband. I've taken lovers because I liked the attention and, as a former fat girl, I relished being desired. I don't think it's an expression of narcissism or a sense of myself as "entitled." Rather I think it's because, having been brought up to be in a man's shadow, stepping out into the sunlight of a successful career; a happy, secure, marriage; and parenthood was exhilarating. (We have two daughters, Charlotte, 16 and Joanna, 12). I was asserting myself and maybe making up for a time when I was less than desirable. I wanted, above all, to control my own sex life. Since I loved my husband and thought there was very little chance of him finding out, I jettisoned scruple and committed adultery.
The first time it happened was when I attended a professional conference in another city. I know, it's a clich� but it's true. It was in Phoenix eight years ago. The second evening of the conference, I was in the hotel bar with a colleague, Catherine, when she introduced me to a young physician that she knew. He was scheduled to present on a topic of some interest to me so we engaged in conversation. Before long, Catherine excused herself and we were left alone. It was early evening and we'd had a few drinks. One thing led to another, and we soon found ourselves in his room making out on the bed. My inhibitions were down so I went for it. I must admit that I loved the feeling of being naughty even more than the sex, which was just OK.
Jeffrey was very excited. I learned afterward that his wife was rather thin, had small breasts, and wouldn't give him a blowjob. I guess I should have known that from the way his jaw dropped when I took off my bra. (I have a 36E rack.) He started kissing and squeezing my bare tits before I could finish undressing. With my pantyhose halfway down, I said, laughing, "Hey! At least let me get my underwear off!" He very nicely dropped to the floor and took them off with his teeth.
While I was still laughing, he pushed me down on the bed and started eating my pussy. He seemed in a hurry. He stuck a finger in my cunt and started massaging it on the inside. I liked that part of his technique. After a couple of minutes, I told him to stand up. I got down on my knees and started to take off his pants while he took off his shirt. He was already quite hard when I began to lick his shaft and squeeze his ass. A drop of pre-cum fluid stood out at the tip of his boner. I squeezed it gently, slurped it up, and made a yummy sound, I remember.
I inserted the swollen cockhead into my mouth and started bobbing my head up and down on that luscious rod. After a few seconds, he grabbed the back of my head and assisted. I gagged and said, "Uhh, maybe we could try something else ..." I was pretty wet by this time so I flopped back on the bed and spread my legs rather invitingly, if I say so myself. "Let me feel that hot cock right in here," I said as I spread my pussy lips. (I can be so naughty after a couple of drinks!) He mounted me and thrust his hard-on right up to the hilt. I gasped and he started fucking me hard and fast. The feeling of that thick penis pistoning in and out my pussy was wonderful. I remember thinking, I wonder how long he'll last at this pace? Well, less than two minutes later he came inside me. He was a heavy cummer so it made quite a mess in my snatch, though of course I didn't mind. He rolled off me onto his back and said, "Wow! That was fantastic!"
I was sobering up by then and started to think, I'd better get back to my room. What if Charles calls? As I got up and began to dress, Jeffrey said, "Did you cum? I'm sorry I went off so fast." I said, "Don't apologize; it was great. I just have to get going." I kissed his cheek, kissed his softening cock, and said "Thanks, doc!" I winked at him and hurried back to my room. I had done it; my first affair. I'd committed adultery. I felt really wicked and not at all guilty. I masturbated in my room using Jeffrey's cum as a lubricant and fantasized about my husband and me in a threesome.
Before I went to sleep, however, I called Charles and my daughters to say good night. It felt strange to speak to him after I'd just sucked and fucked someone else, but I needed to hear his voice, hear him say, "I love you, Lucinda" tenderly the way he does, not off-handedly like some spouses do. I started to feel guilty then, to feel regret. After I hung up the phone, I swore I'd never cheat on Charles again. Like a lot things, making that vow allowed me to feel good in the aftermath of having done something bad. It's obvious that I didn't keep it. Despite my unfaithfulness, I love my husband very much and have loved him for a long time.
Charles and I went to high school together. We were friends and study companions for almost two years when he expressed interest in me romantically. I was a fat girl in high school. I thought that I would end up with a fat, nerdy guy, who would be grateful for me and maybe even love me; not a bad thing at all but so different from the way things turned out. I could not have conceived someone like Charles being interested in me. Charles used to come over to my house occasionally to study. When my mother said one day, "That boy likes you," I found that hard to believe but secretly hoped it was true.
In February of our junior year, when we were both not quite 17, he invited me to go to the local art museum with him. It was there that he showed me his romantic side. He was always a serious student and even then demonstrated a talent for making subjects interesting. (Charles is now, appropriately, a professor in the history of science department at the University of Wisconsin.) He had already "scouted" the museum's objects and typed up a summary of the more prominent ones to which we could refer while viewing them. I wondered, Can I count this as a date? Should I describe it that way to my friends Donna and Annette? No one had ever asked me out on a date so I eagerly said "Yes!" I did enjoy being with Charles because he was always interested in what I had to say. I appreciated that. He's still that way.
Anyway, we went to the museum and looked at the paintings and the sculpture. It was interesting enough but after an hour or so I was ready for lunch, which was a big deal for both of us, going to lunch on our own. I thought that could count as the "date" part.
We ended up sitting in front of a four-painting allegorical series from the Hudson River School. Charles appeared nervous when he suddenly said he wanted to discuss something with me. He told me that he was a fairly serious person (not news to me but typical of his not understanding how people perceive him) and that he was impatient to start adulthood. I thought that was a little weird but he went on to say there was someone he was quite attracted to and thought there was a chance that she might care for him. He said he didn't know how to approach her and would I have any suggestions. I didn't know what to say; I was curious to know who it was as no one had connected Charles to any of the girls in our school.
"Hmm ..." I said. "I'm not sure."
"Well," he said, "what if it was you?"
"I guess taking her some place, like this I suppose, might be good. You could then bring up the subject when the time seemed right."
I was also somewhat disappointed that he saw me the way I feared: the kind of girl that guys like as a friend but never date and not as my mother had thought. Still, this would be good information to share with my friends even if he wasn't interested in me. So I swallowed hard and said, "Is it anyone I know?" as casually as I could. He turned to me with a very serious look and said, "It's you, Lucinda. You're the girl I love." I was stunned.
I was weighing everything: what would Donna say, what would my mother say, and what should I say?! He then said, "Am I ridiculous for saying that? If this is unwelcome, I hope you won't laugh at me with your girlfriends when you tell them." (Yes, he actually said that, at sixteen.) I finally said, "It's not unwelcome, Charles. It's just that this is kind of sudden." He said, "I hoped you might feel the same." I smiled at him and said, "I do; I'm just surprised that you're attracted to me." He stood up, took my hands and helped me to my feet, put his arms around me, and kissed me. I put my arms around him and pressed my face into his sweater. I was so thrilled and genuinely touched that he was so nervous, unsure of himself in this as he was never in regard to school work. As we walked down the street to a little coffee shop, he asked if he could hold my hand. I thought that was really sweet. I was also pretty happy that this was now an "official" date!
While we were dating that summer and into our senior year, Charles was always very considerate and respectful. I thought sometimes perhaps too much so. The summer before we went away to school we started going a little farther, sexually, than just kissing and hugging. We were both 18 by that time. He began feeling me up and paying a lot of attention to the space between my legs. I hadn't let him see it and he hadn't asked. Then one evening Charles had borrowed his parents' car. We went to a film and then found a secluded place to park and started making out; I then decided I would show him my pussy. On previous occasions, I let him take off my blouse and then my bra. I taught him to kiss and suck my boobs. I surprised him that evening by taking off my jeans and my panties first so he could finally see my sex. He said it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. (He was so sweet; and horny, of course.) I showed him how to use his fingers to please me. He asked if he could kiss me down there and I said he could. He did it so reverently! Following my instructions, he gently rubbed my clit until I came. I wasn't even sure that I could but I think I was so overwhelmed with love for this boy, who was a little shy but very much in love with me, that I had my first orgasm in the presence of another person.
Wanting to satisfy him, and to try something other girls talked about, I then told him to take off his pants. "I want to see your cock," I said. I hadn't seen a hard on yet. He took his pants off and I held his stiff penis in my right hand. I wasn't sure what to do but I started stroking it up and down. I bent my head and kissed the tip. (Back then, I thought putting a penis in my mouth was really gross!) I then proceeded to jerk him off. Even though I knew what was supposed to happen, I was surprised when his cum came shooting out! I thought, How messy! (That's no longer my reaction.) The next time we were in the same situation, with me having just kissed his cock, Charles lifted my head and kissed my lips. "Can I rub myself on you?" he asked. "Of course," I answered. "Just don't put it inside me." He looked a bit offended and said, "I'd never risk getting you pregnant. I love you." I smiled and finished stripping. For the first time, my Charles lay on top of me and rubbed his prick until he came. He politely wiped me off with a tissue. How could you not love someone like that?
Charles was always worried about whether or not I loved him when we got married. He was so charming during the wedding ceremony. I still looked fat but when I met him at the altar he whispered to me that I looked beautiful. All brides supposedly look beautiful on their wedding days and everyone says that whether it's true or not but he really meant it.
I wasn't a virgin when we got married. When I went to nursing school, I was away from home and also away from the high school atmosphere with its emphasis on looking a certain way and acting a certain way. I found people there tolerant of different lifestyles. I tried smoking pot and I actually drank alcohol when I went out with my friends. I adopted a semi-hippie look with peasant blouses and long dresses. I felt more relaxed, socially, and guys started being interested in me. For a fat girl, that was something! I guess I took full advantage of it.
I was interested in sex, apart from Charles, and so that led to my sleeping with several guys over the four years. I was careful to protect myself but I didn't hold back. I hadn't let Charles take my virginity; that's something that I still regret. I guess it was because I wasn't sure Charles would be interested in me once he got to college. I thought he'd be dating lots of girls and likely find a pretty, rich girl and forget all about me. We were a long way from each other. Besides, my girlfriends said I shouldn't limit myself to just one guy at my age. I guess I didn't believe Charles's love for me could stand up to a test in the "real world" (whatever that is!).
Not for the only time, I'm sorry to say, I underestimated Charles's determination and single-mindedness. By the time of our senior year, however, I was convinced that he really loved me and that it wasn't because he didn't know any other girls. As a result, I devoted myself to him completely. He asked me to marry him over the Thanksgiving holiday and gave me an engagement ring. He really did love me and wanted me to be his wife. Even though we've been married for twenty years, it's still hard sometimes to believe that he's actually faithful to me. I would have thought he'd be fucking his students at least occasionally. It would have been so easy, what with adoring coeds all around and other colleagues doing it ... but not Charles. He loves me and although I haven't been faithful to him, I'm pretty sure he's been faithful to me. I appreciate that and must admit I've taken it for granted.
My second affair occurred while I was getting my master's degree in public administration. I was burned out on nursing and thought about quitting it and doing something completely different. Charles helped me to see I could build upon my nursing experience and move quite easily into hospital administration. I enrolled at the University of Wisconsin's LaFollette School of Public Affairs as a part-time student. In my last class, Workshop in Public Affairs, Domestic Issues, we were required to work in groups. We had to do a presentation at the end of the semester. I ended up working closely with a guy in our group, Greg, who had been a legislative assistant at the state capital. He knew a lot about the legislative process, which was our group's focus.
One evening, after class, we went for coffee to discuss the presentation. We had devised a pretty good outline and so were happy with our progress. He walked me to my car and then made a pass at me in the parking garage. I looked around and didn't see anyone so, again, I went for it. I responded to him and he felt me up. I wanted to go farther so I knelt, unzipped his pants, took out his cock, and gave him a quick blowjob. He wanted to eat me out but I wasn't comfortable with how clean my pussy was so I asked him to finger me, which he did. We arranged to meet at his apartment downtown after the next class.
I told Charles that I needed to work late on the presentation, which was true. I didn't tell him that I was also going to get fucked as well. The weather turned colder and it started to snow the next day so by the time a week had passed, it was difficult enough to travel in town so that I wasn't worried about Charles inadvertently running into me somewhere while I was cheating on him. I know I sound like a really awful person but I didn't want to hurt Charles over something that meant little to me. Greg was hardly in love with me; I was just another conquest. I liked him but I was not going to leave Charles for him or anybody else. I love my husband despite what my having affairs suggests. I liked the risk taking, I think, and the sex. More than anything, though, I did it because, as I said earlier, I liked being desired by other men.
The next week rolled around soon enough. I drove my car over to Greg's after class. I waited in the underground garage for him. We went up to his apartment right away. It was a neat bachelor pad. Greg, at 29, was 7 years younger than I was. As we got in the door he immediately began to grope me. I hurriedly took off my coat, blouse, and skirt. Greg started feeling my tits and ass. He undid my bra and set my 36Es free. He liked big boobs. I took a step back and quickly stepped out of my panties. I made a spur of the moment decision to leave my high boots on, a modestly kinky touch. Greg got out of his clothes as I knelt on his area rug to await the opportunity to give him ?head.? (I love the feeling of power when I give a blow job.) His cock was standing straight up out of his nest of blonde pubic hair, anticipating my oral ministrations.
Greg looked like a Viking: over six feet tall with reddish gold hair, a true Wisconsinite. I fellated him briefly when he helped me to my feet and led me to his bedroom. I proceeded to lie down on his bed and spread my legs. He got between my thighs and started eating me. I relaxed and enjoyed the sensations. He liked to kiss the inside of my thighs, then move to licking the spaces between my pussy lips and my legs and finally to tongue-fuck my cunt. He also had a habit of snaking a finger into my anus while all that was going on. I didn't mind; I think anal sex adventurous, just so long as it doesn't get out of hand and cause me pain. (Charles always pays loving attention to that part of me.)
After Greg licked my beaver for a while we then made the move to begin fucking. We started with me on my back. Greg put on a rubber, mounted me, and started drilling my snatch. I was really turned on at this point. Our first fuck was a good one. Greg pumped me for a few minutes and then asked me to get on my hands and knees. He moved around behind me and entered my pussy. Shoving his cock right up to the hilt, he gripped my hips and fucked me vigorously. I was moaning by this time. (I love it from behind.) Greg blew his load soon after that. He fingered and licked me to bring me off and that was our first time. Greg liked my wearing the boots so I wore them every time we screwed. I managed to fuck Greg exactly 11 more times before it became inconvenient for us to get together and we drifted apart.
Postscript: six months after our last tryst, Greg was hospitalized overnight for orthopedic surgery (torn knee ligament playing squash). I waited until it was later in the evening after visiting hours and went to his room to say hello and see how he was doing. He told me he had gotten engaged to someone I knew vaguely, a tall Nordic-looking woman. With his left leg in a cast and in traction, I drew the curtains, pulled out my tits, and gave him a blow job just to show him what he was missing. He creamed nicely in my mouth and I very tidily swallowed it all. It was like a scene from a porno movie. Before I left, I informed him that insurance didn't cover the "oral procedure" and that he'd have to pay me directly. Not possessed of the best sense of humor, he looked startled until I told him I was only kidding. I haven't seen him since.
For our twentieth wedding anniversary, Charles and I we decided we'd take a trip to Spain. We'd been there before and liked it very much. We prefer Europe and think maybe we'll retire there. As we prepared for our trip, I thought back to my third affair, which ended a couple of months before. My lover was a physician, a specialist in reconstructive surgery. He was well known in his field, having published extensively. Although much in demand by the well-heeled for everything from boob jobs to facelifts, he did a fair bit of pro bono work both in town and abroad. Each year he traveled to Mexico for two weeks at a time and operated on poor children with deformities, such as harelip and deviated septum, whose parents otherwise could never have afforded the simple surgery they needed.
He was ten years older than I was and had been widowed the year before. I had met him eight months before when I accompanied my friend Anne Schwartz to his office for a consultation. Anne wanted to discuss having a face lift and was scared to go alone. Because I had been a nurse, she trusted my judgment in such matters. I had advised her: "Understand all the likely outcomes of such a surgery. Review the surgeon's work. Even though no surgery is 'routine,' you want a surgeon that has done a lot of those operations." She still needed someone to "hold her hand" so to speak and I acceded to her request.
Anne and I went to Bruce's office on a cool, windy day in October. We were early and sat in the waiting room reading magazines. I got up and asked the receptionist where the women's room was and told Anne I'd be right back. I lingered after leaving the rest room and nosed around the consulting rooms a bit (professional curiosity). Bruce was in one of the rooms doing a surgical follow-up with a small child and her mother. I overheard them speaking and discerned that the single mother, though a woman of little means or sophistication, was not about to accept charity for the daughter's facial reconstruction after a car accident. Bruce impressed me with what he did. He could have ignored her concern and insisted that he didn't need the money or said some such thing to just quickly end a potentially embarrassing situation. No, he understood how important her dignity was to her and told her that she could pay some ridiculously low monthly fee over a two-year span. She was mollified and I saw the mother leave with both her dignity and her little girl intact.
Anne insisted that I sit in on the consultation with her and so was afforded another opportunity to assess the qualities of this increasingly interesting man. He carefully made his examination and offered recommendations, patiently discussed all the options, and briefed her on the expected results. Despite the thoroughly professional manner, however, I noticed him noticing me. While giving his replies to Anne's questions, he would look at both of us, or rather to Anne and both of my tits. (Men: they never understand how obvious they are!) Anne was so impressed that she scheduled a facelift and another consultation for a breast "augmentation." I thought I should give Dr. Clemens the opportunity to find out if my boobs were real or not. The next day I made an appointment for a consultation. I made up some story about my breasts needing some attention, (medical, that is) and went to see him 10 days later.
In the examining room after the consultation, he examined my breasts and seeing that the attention they required that wasn't medical at all but erotic, kissed and caressed my boobs with the care I would expect from a top surgeon. I sucked him off and we chatted as I finished dressing. He was lonely; his wife of 26 years had died only a year or so before. I was his first sexual experience since then. Thus our affair began. I expected I would be a temporary distraction until he found someone eligible to marry; very low risk for me. I liked Bruce and enjoyed making him happy. I met him regularly for sex in a downtown hotel every Wednesday afternoon. We never went anywhere else, except for one time when we met at an out-of-the-way sushi restaurant for lunch. (I made sure to avoid the university area. I did not want to have to lie to Charles if we ran into each other.)
He preferred meeting in a hotel; there was something refined about it that appealed to his patrician sensibilities. Though I enjoyed the unhurried love making with an older man, I was a little uncomfortable in the beginning and wore my sunglasses and a headscarf going in and out of the place for fear of someone recognizing me. It was a good thing, too, because one day as I was sitting off in a corner of the lobby trying to look inconspicuous, I spied Anne Schwartz standing near the front desk pacing nervously back and forth. She had put her new face and new pair of tits to good use: she surreptitiously greeted one of the cardiologists from the hospital and hurriedly whisked him toward the elevator. It seemed I wasn't the only one fooling around. As I got bolder, I cut out the headscarf.
Bruce liked me to wear different colored garter belts and stockings combinations. He purchased them for me online and I was happy to wear them. He was a considerate lover. He really went for my boobs and enjoyed sticking his cock between them and fucking them to orgasm. (His late wife was rather well endowed so he missed having big tits at his disposal.) He also liked fucking me on my elbows and knees. My pussy presented what he called "a tempting target." We would be in the room generally for two hours so we had time to talk and get to know something of each other.
It was very pleasant until one afternoon when Bruce told me that he loved me and wondered if I would consider divorcing Charles and marrying him. I froze; I wasn't prepared to deal with this. I had to very gently tell him that I loved my husband and that as much as I enjoyed being with him, I wasn't going to leave Charles. I was a little worried about what he might do. You never know with a spurned lover. Bruce, however, was a gentleman and after a month's sporadic entreaties, accepted my position. At our last meeting, he told me he was engaged to be married to a woman younger than I. He then fucked me very gently and very tenderly in the ass. He didn't often do that.
He expressed his gratitude for my having gotten him over a rough period in his life and told me he would always care for me. I told him I felt the same way, that I was happy for him and his intended, but neglected to mention that I was very glad to be finished with the affair. The emotional content was more than I could handle though the sex was good and I loved the attention. I have to say it made me even hornier for Charles. I vaguely wondered if Charles noticed but didn't worry too much about it. He could occasionally, and uncharacteristically, be inattentive about some things; I figured this would be one of them.
It was a beautiful morning when we arrived at our hotel in Sitges. We tried this resort town south of Barcelona for the first time. We liked Catalonia's capital so we thought this would be worth exploring. I needed some place warm; Wisconsin winters really take it out of me. I planned on going to the nude beach a short walk from the hotel. Sitges was known as a magnet for gays but still had a small, largely heterosexual nude bathing area so I thought it would be perfect. I didn't think I'd be as comfortable naked in a larger resort. Charles doesn't care for the sun but knows how important it is for me. He was interested in the local architecture and other aspects of the culture. There were a couple of nice museums in the town that he was looking forward to visiting while I sunned myself. Charles almost always accommodated my wishes. Because of that, I wanted this to be a relaxing and happy time for him, too.
Since we didn't sleep on the plane, we napped when we got to the hotel. I was feeling romantic toward Charles. I hoped to reconnect with him in more ways than just having his penis in me. Having the two girls in the house consumed a lot of our energy and naturally limited our privacy. We were attentive to each other's needs but sometimes sex got put on the "back burner." I was looking forward to getting laid daily by my husband. I also felt that it was partial expiation for the sins I had committed with Bruce and the others.
Around 1 PM, I told Charles I was going to the beach for a while. He planned on visiting one of the museums. I said I wished he would go with me. He demurred, of course, saying that seeing me nude always got him too excited and would so make for a potentially embarrassing situation. (Not for me: I would have been proud of his erection!) Anyway, I put on my hat and sunglasses and placed my blanket, water, a book, and sun screen in my shoulder bag. I would rent a chair and umbrella at the beach. I kissed Charles good-bye and said I'd be back for dinner.
At the beach, I found a nice spot and placed my chair in the sand. I stripped off my clothes, feeling a little self conscious. I am, after all, forty-two years old, though my body has held up pretty well. In Wisconsin, I get my share of second glances from men. Still, I wasn't looking to be attractive anyway, just not unsightly, which I think I achieved. Charles tells me I'm still attractive, but he'd say that anyway. I was very attractive to Bruce, but then he was an older man. Oh, well; nothing to be done about it. Anyway, I was here just to soak up some sun and not to explicitly exhibit myself for any other reason.
While I was sitting up in my chair reading, I noticed a couple putting down a blanket and planting a beach umbrella to my right. They were probably in their mid-to-late thirties and had nice bodies. The man had stripped immediately while the woman displayed a skimpy, two-piece swim suit. She was pretty, I thought, with fair skin, medium-sized breasts, lovely legs, and red hair. I thought, I'll bet she burns pretty easily so she probably uses sunscreen by the gallon. She was sitting up while the man was reclining on his right side with his back to me. Tight buns! I thought, lasciviously.
I went back to my book and wondered if Charles was enjoying the museum. After a few minutes, I noticed the woman lying on her left side facing the man. She had thrown a towel over his midsection and was looking around to see if anyone was watching. I decided to feign sleep behind my sunglasses and watched them out of the corner of my eye. His body was moving ever so slightly and I could see her right arm going up and down. Was she jerking him off?! Yes, she was! After a minute of this she sat up and wiped her hand on the towel. I thought to myself, Wow; that was hot! And very daring! They both started laughing. After a few more minutes the man got up and went into the water. I forgot about faking sleep and watched him walking to the sea.
The woman noticed me looking at him, which made me feel embarrassed. I went back to my reading and a minute later, the woman came over to me and introduced herself. Her name was Gwen, the man was Francis and they were vacationing from Suffolk in England. She said to me, "My husband won't return for a while, would you do me a favor and put some sunscreen on my back?" I said, "Sure," and she stood up and took off her suit top and bottom. She had shaved her "quim," as the English call it; I thought it looked good. She had a nice body. She sat with her back to me and I applied the lotion and began rubbing it in. As I rubbed the sunscreen on her, she said, "That feels nice. You have good, strong hands. Would you do my bum and the back of my legs, as well?" I must have gulped when I said, "OK!" I really wasn't used to touching other women outside of a medical nursing context but I found myself drawn to Gwen. I had to admit that I was getting turned on by this.
Gwen lay face down on my blanket and after a minute or so said to me, "I hope you didn't mind my tossing my husband off. He was getting hard and ... well, we're both fairly open about such things and maybe more than a little brazen. Anyway, I hope you weren't offended." I surprised myself by saying, "On the contrary, I enjoyed the performance!" and we both laughed. She told me she and her husband had a bit of an exhibitionist streak. As I applied the sunscreen to her ass, I let my hand stray down between her legs to her shaved pussy. She opened them wider as if inviting me to touch her sex; which I did. She sighed pleasurably as I stroked the lips of her pussy. I'd never caressed a vulva before. I was discovering that I liked it quite a lot. Inspired by the way she jerked off her husband, I attempted to bring her off with my slick fingers.
Gwen was wet from sweat and excitement. I massaged her clitoris as she lay with her face in the crook of her arm. Her body shuddered ever so slightly, telling me she was enjoying my touch. I kept slipping a finger into her wet snatch. I was past caring whether anyone saw us or not. Gwen reached orgasm and lay very still for about 30 seconds. She then sat up and said in her smooth, sexy, refined English accent, "That was lovely, Lucinda. Thank you very much." She reached over kissed me on the lips. Then she took the fingers that had fondled her pussy and licked them one by one. My jaw dropped and my own pussy tingled. I was impressed by this woman for whom sex was not only something to be managed and negotiated but also, more than anything else, integrated into her daily life and interactions with others. It wasn't an obnoxious "out-front" challenging attitude; rather, it was matter of fact. For Gwen, sex was not something for which she needed to apologize. That realization made me feel completely comfortable speaking to her about intimate issues. So, we started to talk about sex.
Gwen and her husband were swingers. She asked about my sex life and I described love making with Charles as fulfilling if somewhat predictable. She nodded and said she understood. She told me her own sex life was like that while she went through a lesbian phase. She had been monogamous with her lover but found it boring. Just before she met Francis, she had begun to explore her sexuality. When they met, she said it was like lifting a veil to discover that there was someone else who felt sex had to be taken seriously and freed from myth-making and stereotyping. I explained that Charles and I had been married for twenty years and that I loved him very much. I also confided to Gwen that I had had love affairs during my marriage. She said she understood that, too, as she and Francis had no qualms about finding other partners. Gwen said, however, that they had set limits for themselves and were capable of being completely honest. What made it work for them was that they loved each other very deeply. I asked her how that fit in with their lifestyle, as I had been brought up to believe that you paired with one person for your whole life. Anything else was adultery and frowned upon.
Gwen said, "Well, it's clear that you've chafed under that regime." I eagerly admitted it was true. "But you love Charles, right?" I told her that I did. I asked her how she and Francis dealt with jealousy. She told me it wasn't an issue because they separated sex and love. They both believed sex was an important part of a relationship but that exclusivity was problematic.
"I don't own Francis's genitals nor does he own mine. We are individuals, after all. We really love each other and take delight in each other's sexuality. I'm happy when Francis is sexually satisfied. I just don't believe it has to always be by me." That seemed like an eminently sensible thing but thought it hard to achieve and told her so. "We've thought this out pretty completely," she said. "We know our limits and also know that neither of us is likely to easily find someone else with so open a mind. It takes work, you know, just like any marriage." I thought she was right.
"Say, when Francis comes back, would you like to join us in our room at the hotel?" Gwen said to me. I hesitated a bit, and she said, "Please don't feel pressured to have sex. I like you; that's as far as it need go. If you'd like to join in our love making, that would be very nice but it's certainly not required."
I must admit to being curious. I liked what Gwen said. She and her husband had figured out what they wanted for themselves and were honest about it. I, on the other hand, was becoming so afraid of my infidelities being discovered that I had almost considered them no longer worth it. In a strange way I also resented Charles being blissfully unaware of my extra-marital activities while I struggled the whole time trying desperately to keep him from knowing. It no longer made any sense. ?I'd love to go back to your room with you. I'm feeling very horny right now, or 'randy? as you might say,? which made her laugh. Francis returned shortly, we made introductions, gathered up our things, and went back to the hotel.
Back in their room, Gwen led me to the shower to wash off the sunscreen. After soaping each other all over and rinsing ourselves off, we dried as quickly as possible. As we stepped into the bedroom, Gwen took my hand and turning me around to face her, kissed me tenderly and passionately while gently caressing my pussy. We fell onto their bed locked in an embrace. I put my hands on her ass and held her tight. While we were doing this, Francis put his erection into Gwen's pussy and started fucking her. Gwen kept on exploring my body with her hands.
As her husband stated pumping her harder, she said, "Wait, darling. Don't finish in me; you still have to service Lucinda." She rolled off of me as Francis hovered with his hard cock covered in the moisture from Gwen's sex. Gwen reached into a drawer for a condom and placing it on Francis's erection, stepped back as he mounted me. I kissed Francis as his cock entered my wet cunt. Gwen started sucking my tits as her husband fucked me vigorously. In all the excitement, I came pretty quickly. Francis shot his cum, withdrew his cock, and lay down on the bed next to me. Gwen moved between my legs and started to kiss my thighs. She said, "Turn over, Lucinda." As I lay on my stomach, Gwen parted my butt cheeks and started to performed anilingus. I was shocked and quite pleased. Charles licks my asshole frequently and I enjoy that but the thought of having a beautiful younger woman doing it was thrilling.
Although I had not done it before, I asked Gwen to sit on my face so I could eat her hairless pussy. She positioned herself above me and I pulled her down so that her clit was lowered onto my tongue. I sucked at it like it was a cock. My first pussy! And I loved it! The taste of Gwen's cunt was rich and luscious, a bit tart, but not at all fishy. I even brought her to orgasm. (I have to say that, especially for a first-timer, I was proud of myself.)
As all these amazing sexual "firsts" were happening, I was wishing I could tell Charles. I wanted him to be proud of me, to know that his wife was adventurous and desirable and all the things I imagined he must really want in a spouse. Instead, I was saddened knowing that Charles, my dear strait-laced husband, might be so shocked that he would ... what I don't know. I thought then that I really didn't know how he would react to my extra-marital activity. Why was I so worried about that? I hoped Charles wouldn't leave me; I was almost certain he would not. I suppose I was concerned that he not be disappointed in me. I guess that was it. "Oh, Charles," I said to myself, "I wish you were as daring as you are tolerant."
I stayed with Gwen and Francis for another hour. I told them about my husband and daughters and the life I led. I showed them the pictures of my family that I carried in the wallet inside my bag. They told me how they got into swinging and how they were able to sustain their marriage through it all. Gwen was a university lecturer and researcher. Francis was a corporate security director for a world-wide shipping firm based in London. I thought they were so interesting. They asked about swinging with me and Charles. I told them I wasn't sure how to broach the subject with him. They said that if I succeeded, I should give them a call. I thanked them profusely; they each kissed me tenderly good-bye. I hurried back to my room as I wanted to wash off the scent of sex that hung about my clothes and body before Charles returned. As it turned out, I needn't have worried too much about that.
I was sitting in the bathroom drying my hair when Charles came in. He had some wildflowers for me. I thought that was so nice; he's thoughtful like that. I'm a little embarrassed to admit I was thinking about the taste and texture of Gwen's vulva. Hmm, I thought, maybe I should shave my pussy; and resolved to ask Charles what he thought about it.
As he was putting the flowers in the vase on the small writing table, I started feeling horny for him. I put down the dryer and hugged him from behind. He responded immediately. Charles is a passionate and attentive lover, even if not too imaginative. I worry that if I suggest something unusual he'll think me "wanton." (There's a nice 19th-century literary term almost no one uses any more.) Given what I had done today, I really must be wanton!
As I lay back on the bed, Charles dived between my legs and ate me out. "Charles," I said to him, "would you like it if I was shaved down there?" He stopped and said, "I don't know. I've never thought about it. Hmm ... maybe," and then resumed his performance of cunnilingus. I came wonderfully. I was now looking forward to his climax. I started giving him a blow job, getting him ready for fucking, when he surprised me. Charles told me to suck him off. He didn't ask me, as he usually does; he told me. Where did that come from, I wondered. I doubled my effort and he spurted gloriously in my mouth. I swallowed every drop. (Needless to say, my view of oral sex has changed since I was 18.) He had come quite forcefully. I mentioned that to him but he deflected it back to me, making a joke about how I should be a professional fellatrix. He is usually so analytical that this got my attention. I told him something was different, though he didn't respond. We had dinner and fell asleep early.
The next day we spent together in town looking at old churches and buildings. As usual for us on vacation, I took a lot of photos. I also called my mom who was babysitting the girls back in Wisconsin. Everyone was fine. The girls, of course, were not missing us, though we missed them. The day was beautiful. We had lunch in a small restaurant with a perfect view of the Mediterranean. In the restaurant and in the shops in town, we got a chance to try out our Spanish phrases, which sometimes provokes no small amount of hilarity when we botch them! When we walk arm in arm as we did that day it's a sign that we're both relaxed. Charles and I truly love each other. I suppose I hadn't shared recent details of my sexuality with Charles because I feared saying anything that might upset the tenderness we shared. It's important for me to be loved by my husband. I also want Charles to know that I love him. I have to say, though, that the tension between my desire for sex with other partners and my need to feel secure with my husband was taking its toll.
My desire for sex, sexual variety, really, was at an all-time high but I felt unable to tell him about it. On the one hand, I was grateful for the love and loyalty Charles showed to me since we were teenagers. For the longest time I felt no one would ever love me as much as he does. But after Bruce, I began to think that might not be true. On the other hand, if I couldn't share my strongest desires with my husband, what kind of marriage was it? I was an individual and I realized my inability to share my feelings with Charles annoyed and exasperated me though it wasn't fair to blame him. I then began to wonder if I really needed to be that tentative. Was I, in the end, excluding Charles without giving him a chance"
I thought about these things as I was taking a bath back in our room after a late, light dinner. Charles was reading when I emerged in my black lace panties and the white, V-neck T-shirt that shows off my tits to good effect. I stepped out on the balcony hoping he'd notice. (I love seducing my husband!)
And he did. Charles came up from behind me, pulled down my panties, and started licking my anus. As I mentioned in my description of the tryst with Gwen and Francis, I love when Charles gives me a rim job. I let my hair down and took off my top. When he paused, I bent over slightly, thinking he needed better access for his performance of anilingus, and was mildly surprised to feel Charles shoving his hard cock into my now wet pussy. Ohh ... it felt good! He aggressively rammed his boner into me until he shot his load. He took me, forcefully. That wasn't like Charles. I was intrigued but also very hot; I needed to come and he had gone off without me. It was, again, unusual for my usually considerate husband.
I thought we might lie down together, which would afford me the opportunity to masturbate but Charles wasn't finished. He spread a blanket on the balcony and got me down on my elbows and knees. I thought, "He can't be ready to fuck me again." What he did was start to eat my cunt from behind. He used his fingers to diddle my clit at the same time. I was in ecstasy. I came like thunder and collapsed on the blanket. We must have been observed by some of the other guests because I heard someone clapping and someone else say "Bravo!" I was not embarrassed in the least. (OK, I thought; that proves it: I am wanton.)
We moved to the bed and cuddled. I innocently asked what was up with him, what made him so passionate, so different. He floored me by saying that my affair with Bruce Clemens had turned him on. Charles knew! I was stunned to say the least. If I were not lying down, I would have fallen over. Frightened and embarrassed, all I could do was ask how he had known. It turned out he had seen us the one day we hadn't gone to the hotel.
Charles said, "It was five months ago that I saw the two of you kissing in front of that sushi restaurant on North 4th Street. I would never have been in that part of town at that time of day except that Greg Fischer asked me to drop him off at a garage near by to pick up his car. I was stopped at the light on that corner and I saw you walk out of the restaurant. I was going to stop and call to you but then I saw Clemens walk out the door and the two of you kissed before walking in opposite directions. I was ... I don't know ... stunned, I suppose."
Cursing Bruce for varying our routine against my wishes, I kept silent, not knowing what to say. Charles went on.
"Before that, I had noticed other things. There were changes in your routine, working later more often, and you had a greater interest in sex. So, I understood."
Charles was not inattentive after all. He had surmised what was going on. Curious now, I said, "But you said nothing; you gave nothing away. I wasn't aware of anything different in your attitude or anything. ... How did I miss that"
Charles reminded me of the film, "A Brief Encounter," in which the wife innocently befriends a lonely physician on her weekly trips into town. One thing leads to another and they fall in love. Broken hearted, they are eventually forced to part. Her husband, "Fred," is a jovial and caring sort of guy, though we're meant to see him as a little obtuse. We hear the wife's interior monologue where she feels guilty for betraying him but is comforted by his ignorance and is mildly amused by the fact that he misses clues right and left. Well, in the end, we discover that Fred knew what was going on all the time, not the details, perhaps, but the general situation. He knew because he knew her. He loved and trusted her, however, and had the wisdom to let things sort themselves out. That was what Charles did.
He said to me, "I was still worried for a long time about this. I didn't know what I would do if you left me. Another reason why I didn't want to confront you was for fear that it might precipitate a break up."
When he said that, my heart went out to him. I took Charles's hand and kissed it, telling him that I loved him and would never leave him. I told him I was afraid he might now leave me. When he pulled his hand back, I feared the worst; but he only began to stroke my hair and caress my face with it. He said he loved me and that he had thought our marriage was solid. I told him I agreed that it was and asked him to forgive me. He said he loved me more than anything, which touched me deeply to know he really did. In the course of our discussion, I told him that at one time I thought he was having sex with his students.
"What?!" he said, really surprised. "What made you think that?"
"Well," I said sheepishly, "all my girlfriends thought you were because they believed that's what handsome young faculty members did when they had the opportunity."
Charles scoffed at this notion and said, "I would never do that because first of all I love you so much that I would never risk hurting you. Second of all, it is highly unethical for teachers to be involved with students. Some people don't think so, of course, but I've never taken advantage of any of my students. And third, I have Charlotte and Joanna to think of. I would be disgraced before them." Yes, that was Charles.
So I asked him if I should, therefore, be disgraced. He didn't think so at all. I didn't like him assuming I would take advantage of a double standard and said so. Seeing him receptive and wanting to make him understand me, I told him I had affairs for the sex and the attention. I said that I had, for the longest time, thought of myself as a fat girl.
"Every girl likes attention and to have a fuss made over her. That made me think I had missed out on something when I was younger and maybe I could have it now." I said, also, that because I had followed his lead all throughout our marriage when it came to diet and exercise that I had been molded by him perhaps a little too insistently.
"I've always been smitten with you," he replied. "I hoped that would make you see how beautiful you were because I knew you didn't think so. I'm sorry you saw me as a Pygmalion to your Galatea."
I was mildly annoyed by what I had come to think of as a somewhat patronizing attitude. "I know you didn't mean to but it irked me, finally." I looked at him directly and said, "I also started to wonder why you loved me if you weren't at all ambitious, erotically speaking. I realized that you might have married me because I was safe, that I wouldn't stray because no one else would have me and because everyone would think I was crazy to cheat on you. You must admit that's at least partially true."
It was Charles's turn to look sheepish as he said, "I thought of that possibility and it embarrassed me to think that it might be true so I banished it from my thoughts. I knew I loved you; I didn't think too much beyond that. I guess I should have."
I took his hand and kissed it again; I wanted him to know that I loved him very much but I also told him that I was made to feel that I was in his debt. My exact words were, "Look, I'm not blaming you. So much of this is bound up in the way we're conditioned to think about ourselves from when we're young. I was a fat girl and therefore undesirable and I was made to believe it was my fault. Then you came along and thrilled me, plucked me from social obscurity, and gave me some standing among other things. That's not a small thing considering the snake pit that high school can be. The flip side of that, however, is feeling as though I owed you something that I could not repay. I also thought, 'My husband is beautiful and I'm not.' That's not a nice feeling."
He was distressed by this and I wondered if I had gone too far. After all, I was the one caught in adultery, not him. He'd been faithful to me while I had abused his trust. I told him it wasn't his fault but that sometimes it was difficult for me because of his single mindedness. I did feel terrible for hurting him, despite his protestation to the contrary. I apologized for what I had done and again asked him to forgive me.
He said, "Lucinda, I love you. I have loved you for a long time. When I suspected you were having love affairs, I didn't do anything to stop you. I respected your privacy. Even though we're married, I don't own you. I left it up to you although, as said, I was frightened. If you'd left me, I would have been crushed."
I was so glad he said that, but sorry that we hadn't discussed these things sooner. He really did love and truly respect me but there was the problem of my still feeling unable to broach the subject before now. The restraint and trust he exhibited was more than anyone else would likely have shown. It was a situation in which he had every right to intervene but did not. At that moment, I loved Charles more deeply than I had ever before. He really had let me be myself. Nonetheless, we had failed to communicate effectively. I wanted so much for him to understand why I did those things; it hurt not to be able to tell him before now.
"Having those affairs made me feel alive and very sexy, very desirable and I needed that. And they were something of my own. Can you understand?"
"Yes," he said, "I do understand." But I wondered where we would go from here and what would I do about my sexuality. Charles actually addressed the situation and, in doing so, surprised me. He said,"You asked tonight what had gotten into me. Well, I know exactly what it was. I was turned on by the image of you with another man. The thought of you sucking someone else's cock or on your hands and knees being fucked from behind ... it really made me so hot for you. Is that too strange, do you think?"
I was dumbfounded. I thought my marriage might have been in jeopardy and then I discover that my husband was getting turned on fantasizing about me committing adultery. "No, it's not strange. You really felt that way?" I said.
He said yes, that he did but also that he was turned on by me all the time and hoped that I still wanted sex with him. Did I ever! I assured him that I needed him always and decided to show him how much. I began sucking his prick. When he got hard he said he wanted to fuck me in the ass. Wow! That was unexpected. I must have jumped off the bed as I ran to the bathroom to get some KY jelly. I asked him to lubricate me and he did so tenderly. He fucked me in the ass but was careful about it, moving slowly and gradually picking up speed. I was completely turned on and loved it. I begged him to cum in my ass and he did. I felt wonderful and told him so. Then we laughed together about how naughty it made me feel!
I was so happy. My husband was more comfortable with my sexuality than I had expected; he wasn't afraid, as I had thought. Now, the challenge was to get him to go with me, to explore. I wasn't sure he would follow. I very much wanted him to do so. I thought about Francis and Gwen and resolved to get him to participate in a foursome. I went to sleep more joyful, more hopeful than I had been for some time.
In the morning, I told Charles that whatever he felt about my cheating on him, it wasn't right, I was sorry I had deceived him. He replied by saying, "Well, next time you'll just have to let me know. Then I won't be deceived. Look, sweetheart: you were unhappy. You did something to feel better. I wish you had told me, though. Before I was your boyfriend and finally your husband, I was your friend. Please let me be a friend to you when you need it. There shouldn't be anything we cannot tell each other."
I replied, "You really mean that, don't you?"
"Yes, I do; I don't want anything putting distance between us. I'm your husband but as I said, I don't own your genitals. I love you; I want you to be happy. I realize now that I didn't make it easy for you to discuss those things. I want to do better in that regard. And I have my own needs and desires. Just because I've never been with another woman doesn't mean I'm not susceptible to those kinds of feelings."
Charles was opening up. This was interesting. I asked him to elaborate on that statement.
"I'll tell you something I wouldn't normally have told you. Two years ago I fell in love with another woman. She was a Canadian graduate student in bio-chemistry, in Jane Cresswell's department. I met her one day when I dropped off a journal I had borrowed from Jane. Her name was Jennifer Anderson. She was slim, small-breasted, and blonde; her face was lightly freckled. There was just something about her that got to me. I found excuses to run into her for about two months. That was as long as it lasted. It didn't mean that I stopped loving you; not at all. But, it was something that happened; it made me feel guilty."
Another woman captured Charles's heart! It hit me hard but I was in no position to say anything about a crush when I had fucked three, uh, rather, four different men and now one woman behind his back. This honesty wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. I clearly had underestimated my Charles and overestimated my capacity for tolerance. I clearly had to do better in that regard.
We decided to spend the day together; we still had a lot to discuss. I had originally planned on going to the beach but now all I wanted was to talk to Charles about sex and about us. At breakfast, I asked him to tell me more about the Canadian girl, Jennifer. At first he said "There isn't much to tell," then corrected himself.
"She was not a woman you'd expect I'd be attracted to. I'm attracted to you; I love your body type, your dark hair, not blondes. Not normally, anyway. I can only wonder where that came from." he shrugged.
This was my chance to tell him about Francis and Gwen. It was going to be a lot to absorb all at once but I thought Charles was up to it. Clearly he was thinking a lot more broadly than I'd given him credit for doing.
I started by saying, "Something interesting happened at the beach the other day?"
Charles was surprised to hear about my feeling and fingering Gwen's pussy. "Lucinda ... I never thought you'd be interested in women."
I told him, "Neither did I!"
As we ate our breakfast, I described the aftermath of my sex with the female stranger at the beach. Charles was getting very aroused and suggested we hurry back to our room. I agreed and promised him a blow job to relieve his tension. As Charles got up to pay the bill, I took my mobile phone and called Gwen.
Back in our room, Charles didn't want to come from the blow job; he wanted to fuck me while I described my experience in Gwen and Francis's room. I told him how I had sex with them both and how satisfying it was for me. He shot his semen in my very wet vagina as I concluded the description of my threesome. Before he could go down on me, I masturbated to orgasm using his semen as a lubricant. As we lay together afterward, I told him how wonderful that was. I also said that Gwen and Francis had invited us to swing with them the next night.
Most men would be thrilled by their wives suggesting such a thing; not Charles. He was with me on this but mostly because he knew I wanted it. He told me later he was worried about his performance. I told him that for me, he was the standard the others had to meet and that all were found wanting in some way. I was glad that information both surprised and pleased him. In the end we met Francis and Gwen the next evening in the hotel bar.
"Hello, Charles; I'm Francis and this is Gwen." We exchanged greetings all around. I was a little nervous because I wanted this to go well. I enjoyed being with Gwen and Francis the other day and I wanted Charles to enjoy it, too. This was the kind of lifestyle I wanted to sample but it wouldn't work unless my husband wanted to as well. The key, of course, was Gwen: would she appeal to Charles and would he perform well enough for her.
After we had stood around for a bit with Charles betraying nothing, Francis suggested we take a walk in the moonlight. He graciously offered me his arm while Gwen took Charles's and we left the bar. Francis thought Charles would benefit from being alone with Gwen. He said to me, "She has a way of putting people at ease. She's direct but very kind and understanding. Gwen will find out if Charles is comfortable enough to proceed."
"Thanks," I said. It was most important for Charles not only to approve but to participate and I said so. "I want him to be with me in this."
"You really love your husband, don't you," he said. "Well, I feel that way about Gwen. If tomorrow she said, "I don't want to do this anymore, I'd stop and be fine with it. It's our relationship that matters most so I know what you mean."
I turned and saw Charles and Gwen in serious conversation behind us. We had walked away from the hotel area and were near the deserted beach. The sound of the waves was pleasant to hear. I turned my attention to Francis.
"It's very nice of you two to take us 'first timers' on. I liked what we did the other day."
Francis replied, "Gwen and I enjoyed it, too. We found you very attractive. And by the way, you look smashing tonight."
I blushed a bit and thanked him. He took my face in both his hands and kissed me. I wondered if it was premature. Feeling the hesitation, he said to me, "Look!" He was pointing to Charles and Gwen about 20 yards away locked in an embrace and kissing passionately. I turned back to him with a smile and said, softly, "Well, well; it looks as if we've taken the first step.? I leaned back in his arms and opened my mouth to receive his kiss. Francis then gently squeezed my pussy, causing me to sigh and to grind my pubic mound against his strong hand.
Charles and Gwen caught up with us. Gwen, with her arm around Charles's waist, said, "Let's all go back to our room, shall we?" Charles smiled at me and I gave him an answering grin. So far, so good; I thought.
As soon as we got in the door, I went down on my knees in front of Francis and freeing his cock, began giving him a blow job. I peeked over to see Gwen stripping down to her pretty turquoise bra and thong. Charles had started to undress as well. I was sure Gwen would develop an appreciation for his penis.
I took Francis's rod down my throat as far as I could. I can't do really "deep throat," but I try to give the best head that I can. After a minute's sucking, Francis stood me up and lifted off my dress. I had on a navy blue bra and thong that I immediately doffed. He positioned me on the floor on my hand and knees. Francis then began eating my pussy from behind. It felt so good! I looked up and saw Charles watching me with a very happy expression on his face. He told me later that was thinking that I was now "center stage" where he thought I should be. He was engaged in kissing Gwen's cunt while on his knees in front of her. (I was right in thinking that her bald pussy would interest him.)
After licking my hairy pussy for a while, Francis inserted his penis and started fucking me. He grasped my hips and drove into me, letting his balls slap against my cunt lips. I started moaning. Gwen had maneuvered Charles onto his back on the bed and had mounted him. I saw her bouncing up and down on Charles's hard cock. Francis withdrew his erection and turned me around onto my back. He then penetrated me from above as I started to build to my first climax. Francis was starting to come, too. We screwed faster and I reached orgasm just ahead of Francis's cum shot in my pussy. I then noticed that Gwen was coming, as well. As we watched them, Charles suddenly and forcefully cummed inside Gwen. I had watched my husband have an orgasm in another woman's vagina and I was completely turned on by it. We moved to the bed to be with our spouses.
Gwen eased herself off Charles's boner and started to cuddle with Francis. Charles took me in his arms, held me close, and said, "I adore you." I was ecstatic. "Oh, Charles, I love you so much!" I said to him. Gwen and Francis burst out laughing. "Bravo!" they said, "Good for the both of you."
Charles, suddenly hard again, turned me on my back and mounted me for intercourse. He drove his cock hard into my slippery, cum-filled pussy. I lifted my hips to meet his thrusts. I started losing control. I was incredibly turned on. I think I said, "Fuck me, fuck me harder," or something like that. I came and pulled Charles closer to me as my pussy throbbed in orgasm. Charles climaxed soon after.
We were both exhausted at that point. After resting for a bit, Gwen stood up and started putting on her clothes. "Come on, then, Charles," she said, smoothing her hair. "We're going back to your room." I looked at Charles, smiled, and shrugged. He rose to follow Gwen. As they walked out the door, Francis held me in his arms and starting kissing my breasts.
As I lay back on the bed, Francis worked his way from my tits to my belly all they way down to my pussy. He snuggled between my legs and, after giving me a decidedly randy look, began eating my beaver. I liked his technique. He started by kissing my belly and thighs, moved down to run his tongue over my pussy lips, and them finally parted them and tongue-fucked me. I was oozing both his and Charles's cum by this time.
Francis said that since I was so creamy, it would be a shame to waste all that lubricant. He mounted me and fucked my wet cunt with his lovely cock. His thrusts were bumping his abdominal muscles into my clit sending pleasurable sensations through to my womb. After a few minutes of this I was ready to cum. I begged him, "Please keep going; I'm almost there!" Francis increased his pace and took me over the edge. I bucked my hips and groaned. Francis stopped moving and waited until I came down. As I recovered, he kissed my face and stroked my hair. It was wonderful.
Francis lay next to me and took my hand. Kissing it, he said, "Lucinda, darling, do you take it up the bum?" I replied, "Yes, I do. I gave Charles my anus for his pleasure just last night. I'd love it if you'd fuck me in the ass." I got up to get some lubricant from the bathroom. Presenting my asshole to him, I asked Francis to slick my anus as well as he could.
"Once you're done, press it in deep. Go slowly at first, and then you can easily speed up.? Francis gently pushed the lube through rim of my asshole and down through the sphincter. I concentrated on loosening up my muscles. When I was ready, he entered my ?back door.? His long deep strokes firmly but gently opened up my tissues. Soon, he was able to pump away as he did in my pussy. I was getting good at this! Francis gripped my hips has he came deep in my rectum with a groan. I lay down flat on the bed as he collapsed on top of me. We both started laughing and Francis carefully withdrew his cock.
I got up and went into the bathroom where I cleaned off the excess lubricant from around my asshole and returned with a wash cloth with which to clean Francis's cock. I lovingly washed his softening penis. I dried it and I kissed it tenderly, patting the head, which made him laugh. I held Francis's hand as we lay side by side. I was thinking about Charles as I felt Francis's cum leaking out of my ass. Charles seemed all right with this affair but I wasn't completely sure. I hoped he and Gwen were getting on well. (And getting "it on" well. Ha, ha.) I wanted Charles to break out of his shell as I had mine. I didn't want us to resent each other. I didn't want us to lead parallel lives, either, hiding things from each other because we weren't sure how they would be received by us. That's where we were just two days ago.
"Lucinda, are you thinking about Charles? You had a far-away look in your eyes."
"I'm sorry, Francis. That was impolite," I replied. "Yes, I was thinking about my husband."
"Well, I think you wouldn't be a wife if you were not. Gwen and I know this is new for the two of you; we understand. I'll say that I've enjoyed being with you very much."
I kissed him and said, 'the same is true for me, too. Being with you, and with Gwen, has been so enjoyable. It also has the potential to be life changing for Charles; and it will almost certainly affect the tone of our marriage from here on out."
After a pause, I continued: "I had a series of affairs before this. I was missing something, something I didn't feel I could discuss with my husband. It turned out, though, that Charles knew about them all."
Francis's eyes opened wide as he said, "Gwen mentioned your love affairs. She didn't know that Charles was aware of them. How did the two of you handle that; if it's not too personal that I ask?"
I told Francis that when I first confided in Gwen, I hadn't known that Charles knew about them. It was just last evening that I understood how much Charles was aware of my infidelities. I told Francis that Charles's reaction was both reassuring and somewhat disconcerting.
"Well, Charles still loved me; that was a relief. What he expressed was mostly concern about me, how I felt and not about him. He wanted to know what made me turn away from him, if there was something he did or failed to do. But I hadn't turned away from Charles; I guess I just went around him when he wasn't looking. Or when I thought he wasn't looking." I sighed. "Although he seemed to be more tolerant than I had a right to expect, I had the unworthy thought that it was because he didn't care so much, that he had no passion at all."
Francis thought for moment and then said, "You two seem really to love each other but, if you don't mind my saying so, you perhaps haven't been honest with yourselves. It would be very surprising if you could then be honest with each other."
"Oh, Francis, you're so right! We've been so careful not to offend each other. We each thought we knew what the other was thinking or at least how each of us would react to things. It turned out to be so wrong." Francis had put his finger on the problem. It wasn't that we failed to communicate, which was bad enough but we had lied to ourselves, which was worse.
I said to him, "If Charles were here now I would tell him that we need to know ourselves better or be honest about our values and desires ... oh, the whole thing."
"Look, why not go to him now?"
"But he's with Gwen. I don't want to interrupt them. Especially if they were really enjoying each other; it would be unfair to him."
"Lucinda, you're forgetting one thing: he's a man. We can't go indefinitely, right? What are we doing now?" Francis smiled as he said that.
I laughed and said, "Of course! Duhh!" I jumped up and started putting on my thong and my bra. Francis leaned over and snapped my bra together. I picked up my dress but before putting it on, I turned to this wonderful man and said, "Francis, how can I thank you? And thank Gwen?"
He laughed and said, "Just don't lose touch. We found you to be a most interesting and exciting couple."
I put my dress on and kissed him tenderly. "I'll see you soon. We're still here for a few more days."
I would see Charles and discuss all this with him. So many things were becoming clearer. I hoped he, indeed, still loved me. I loved Charles so much. I saw an opportunity for us to be stronger as a couple. It was no longer the sex, it was the feeling of intimacy that I craved. That and the attention that a lover can give when a husband can't or won't; or when a wife doesn't know how to ask him for it.
As I opened the door, Charles and Gwen were in the act of getting dressed. I approached Gwen, hugged her, kissed her cheek, and said, 'thank you, Gwen, for taking care of my husband.? Gwen returned my embrace, kissed my cheek, smiled at Charles and me, and wordlessly left the room. I turned to Charles.
He said to me, "You look so beautiful."
"Do I; even after Gwen, who is so gorgeous and younger than I am?" Giving Charles over to her was a risk. What if he felt he now deserved younger women, especially after the way I behaved? What could I say to him? On reflection, I should not have worried. Charles was still "Charles" and once again I had underestimated his commitment to me.
"You are the woman I love and tonight I love you more than ever. I think of this as your gift to me and I appreciate it more than you know." He hugged and kissed me. "You are as beautiful to me now as you were on our wedding day."
That made me start to cry. I had been so afraid just now and my estimable Charles banished my fears with a kiss. I put my head on his shoulder and held him for a long time. He felt so good, so solid. He then caressed my breasts and then my bottom. He undressed me as I stood there and wept.
"I'm sorry; I don't know what's come over me. I'm suddenly so emotional," I said. "I suppose I was afraid you might push me away and think of me as a slut. But I wanted you to see the things I've kept inside. I wanted you to see the real me and I hoped you would still love me after you did." We still needed to talk more; I needed to tell him why I think I did what I did, but I felt hopeful now.
He lifted my chin, met my eyes, and said to me, "Well, the last couple of days have really changed us. They've certainly changed me; I feel as if I'm running to catch up with you. That is, if you still want me to."
"Oh, Charles; I love you so much. I just needed to know that you still want me."
He said to me, "I want you more than ever. Let's lie down together." And so we did and later made love tenderly. We afterward fell into a deep and restful sleep.
The next morning, I awoke earlier than Charles. As I watched him sleep I thought "He's always so still and he never messes up the covers. He's so ... so orderly!"
Maybe I was intimidated by that aspect of him. I was certainly misled by it. I had judged my husband based on his personal habits and failed to ask him what was in his heart. Charles's stoicism was partly responsible for that. He was less than forthcoming with me, not that it excused my adultery, but now he needed to be more honest both with me and, as Francis suggested, with himself. We both needed to be that way. Now, I was confident that we would be all right. We would find a way to really see each other as we were. We would start by looking deep within ourselves and not being afraid of what we saw. We weren't going to feel alone any more.