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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: sense.txt (MF, cheating wife, affair)
Authors name: Anonymous THC Author (No address given)
Story title : Sense of Hearing
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 1991. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Sense of Hearing (MF, cheating wife, affair)
by Anonymous THC Author
***
Two people meet at a high school reunion. An old friend-
ship is renewed and then due to circumstances beyond
their control, their friendship flames into more than
just friends.
***
Most things in life come by once, and then they're gone
forever. Every now and then you get a second chance.
Some years ago I was standing in line at the Evanston
Holiday Inn, waiting for the desk clerk to finish with
the person ahead of me, when I heard her voice behind
me.
"Peter!"
I hadn't heard that voice for almost two decades, but I
knew instantly who it was. Becky Warford. At least it
was Becky Warford when I knew her in high school. I
turned around and looked down. "Damn, Becky! You look
great!"
She used to have strawberry blonde hair down to the
middle of her back, but now it was shorter, maybe to her
shoulders, and a little darker. The same sparkly
chestnut eyes and subtle makeup. She was dressed in a
light green business suit, definitely classy. And she
wore a wedding ring.
Becky stood up on her tiptoes, raising her 5-foot 1-inch
frame as high as it could go, and kissed me on the
cheek. "Thanks! So do you. A little less hair..." I made
a face, and she quickly recovered. "Oh, no, you look
great! It's funny how the men often look better now than
they did in high school."
"Are you here for the Reunion?"
"Of course. You too?" I saw her glance at my left hand.
No ring. I'd been divorced for almost three years.
"Things came together right. I live near San Francisco
now, and I have a meeting scheduled for Monday in
Chicago, so I decided to fly in on Saturday and do the
20-year thing."
"San Francisco? That's such a wonderful place. I, uh, my
husband and I live outside of Seattle now. I wanted to
come back and see my old friends. He wasn't interested,
so I came alone."
Seattle, I sighed to myself. I'd hated Seattle for
twenty years. It was twenty years ago, right after
graduation, when Becky's father moved his family from
Evanston to Seattle, taking the love of my high school
life away forever. I managed to mumble, "Seattle. I
don't think I ever forgave your father for getting a job
in Seattle."
Becky laughed. "It's funny how life takes those twisty
turns, isn't it? But now you're here, and I'm here. That
makes it a real Reunion, don't you think?" She smiled up
at me with that face that stole my 18-year-old heart.
"Sir? Next?" The clerk was ready for me. I filled out
the paperwork, and then waited in line with Becky until
she checked in. We slowly walked to the elevators
together, chatting and getting more caught up.
"Who else is here?" I asked.
"I talked on the phone to Janice. Remember her? She's on
the organizing committee. She said that Jean and Barb
were coming, and named a few other people she thought
I'd remember. Some names were more familiar than others,
you know?"
"I know. I pulled out the yearbook last week, trying to
remember names and faces." We stepped into the elevator.
She was on four. I was on five. "I'd love to talk. How
about..."
Becky interrupted. "Me too! What's your room?" She
grabbed my hand and looked at my key. "Okay, let me get
settled first. I'll drop by your room in, say, ten
minutes. Okay?" I nodded. The elevator doors opened and
Becky stepped out. She smiled back at me as the doors
closed, and I only had a brief moment to watch her tight
little body walking away from me. It brought back fond
memories.
Twenty minutes later I heard a knock on the door of my
room. Becky bounced in. She'd changed into Levis and a
t-shirt, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She
was 38, but she looked like she'd just graduated from
high school. "Hey," she began, "I'm really glad you're
here. I wanted to see you."
"I guess I never phoned you, did I? Seattle seemed so
far away. We wrote a few times, but then I went back
East to college and..."
"I know," she said. "I was pissed at my father, too, for
moving us."
"We went together for, what? Two years? I suppose at one
point we were thinking we'd eventually get married."
Becky sighed. When we had started talking we were five
feet apart. Now we were only two feet apart. She said,
"I loved you, Peter. It was young love, it was innocent
love, but I loved you. I don't think I'll ever forget
that." I closed the gap another foot. Becky was staring
up at me, intently studying my face. I decided to do it.
I put my hands on her shoulders, leaned down, and kissed
her.
It was strange, after all those years. I didn't pretend
to remember how she used to kiss, just that we spent
hours doing it back then. We would neck in my mother's
car after a movie date, or at parties when the evening
wore on and we could find a quiet corner. And that was
the most we ever did. Just kiss. But it seemed more than
that. It would be a solid hour of holding each other,
exploring each other's face and neck, gentle whispers of
affection. It was experimenting with passion.
But this kiss was brief, and the old passion was
missing. We parted, and Becky was left with a quizzical
expression. "That's not how I remember it, Peter." She
put her arms around my neck, stepped forward to press
against my body, and stretched up to kiss me. And this
one was like old times. Her mouth was warm, open, and
alive. My mouth opened to match, and our lips swirled
together, our tongues dancing, rediscovering the
teenaged excitement of physically connecting with
another person.
Becky's fingers combed through my hair -- did she used
to do that? -- and my hands confirmed that twenty years
hadn't hurt her body at all. What was different was how
her body molded to mine, and in a way that was more
active than passive. In the old days we had been kissing
as two 18-year-old virgins who barely knew enough to
know how much we didn't know. Now we were two mature
adults. There was something to be said for experience.
To my chagrin, my body was responding to this woman in
my arms, and I was sure she could feel a hard lump
against her belly. I tried to pull back a little, but
she responded by continuing to press against me, even
rubbing back and forth against my bent erection. We
finally broke our kiss and stood there, cheek to cheek,
both with short quick breaths.
Becky wiggled against me. "I remember this thing. It
used to make me nervous. It seemed to have a life of its
own." She giggled at the thought. "And now," she lowered
her right hand to stroke me through my pants, "it still
does."
I couldn't speak. Her hand had paralyzed my vocal
chords.
"It took twenty years, but I finally touched you."
Just then the telephone rang, and we both jumped.
Becky's hand gave a final squeeze, then retreated back
up to join the other one behind my neck. "You'd better
get that. Anyway, I have to run." She kissed me again,
quickly. "I have a hair appointment, and after that I'm
going to meet some old girlfriends. I'll see you tonight
at the party, okay?" I nodded and managed to croak some
kind of affirmative response, and watched Becky walk out
the door.
The phone was still ringing, insistently, until I
finally picked it up.
"Peter, it's Barry! Barry Klein."
"Hey, Barry. It's been a long time!" We fell into a
rambling conversation, trying to summarize twenty years
in ten minutes. My watch told me it was going to be a
long six hours until the party started.
The appointed hour finally arrived, and almost two
hundred graduates of the New Trier High School Class of
1967 converged in a ballroom in the Evanston Holiday
Inn, joined by several dozen generally bored spouses who
probably wished they'd stayed home. I had never been to
a Reunion before, but ours was just like the stories
they tell about such events. Lots of people milling
around, trying to remember old names and aged faces,
swapping stories and probably some lies about twenty
years of successes and failures.
Becky and I found each other early in the evening,
danced a little and chatted in the crowd, but a Reunion
is designed for mingling, not for privacy. The evening
finally wound down to a weary end, and the two of us
found ourselves sitting next to each other at a large
table of old friends.
The conversations at the table grew more sporadic as
tired eyes glanced more frequently at expensive watches.
Becky and I made small talk with another couple with
unfamiliar faces and vaguely familiar names. Then the
bandleader announced the final dance, and without a
word, we stood and walked onto the dance floor, hand in
hand.
Under dim lights we moved together to a good rendition
of the Beatles' "Yesterday", a fitting finale to a
Twenty Year Reunion of the class of '67. It was one of
our favorite songs back then, which was strange when you
think about it -- such a sentimental song for 18-year-
olds.
Becky's head rested lightly against my chest, nestled
between my chin and my shoulder, and her body seemed to
merge with mine. "Peter," she said quietly, "this is
coming to an end too quickly."
"I know. It's been good to see you again."
"Can I talk to you some more?"
"I'd like that."
"Can you come to my room this time? It's 407. Can you
remember that?"
"407."
"Wait twenty minutes, then come to my room. Things
should quiet down by then. I'm just trying to be a
little discrete. There are a lot of people we know
staying here at the hotel."
"I'll be there," I told her, and the song ended. We
separated as the lights came up, and then joined the
others in a final tired buzz of goodbyes and hugs and
handshakes, gradually drifting out to the ballroom doors
to split into those who were driving to Chicago-area
homes and the rest who were staying in the hotel. I lost
sight of Becky, then made brief eye contact again as she
was waiting with a group who were all getting on the
same elevator together. She smiled, and winked at me. I
smiled back.
After I found my way to my room, I discarded my tie,
popped the top button of my shirt, and splashed cold
water on my face, trying to shake off a funny
combination of fatigue and nervousness. I turned on the
television, flipped through the channels, and tried to
burn long minutes. Repeated glances at my watch finally
succeeded in bending time to 12:40, and I stood,
pocketed my key, and made my way down to Becky's room.
I paused at her door, and it opened quietly before I
could knock. Becky's face peeked out at me with a smile
and a "Sshh!" as she motioned me in. It was Holiday Inn
deja vu, except her room was a mirror image of mine. Two
double beds, tan wallpaper with vertical brown stripes,
and dark brown laminated furniture.
Becky had changed into a blue velour sweat suit that
followed her curves with a soft, cozy look, her hair now
unpinned and combed out, falling loosely across her
shoulders. She put her arms up around my neck, kissed me
quickly, and whispered, "On my way in I found out that
Barb and her husband have the room next door."
She motioned her head toward the wall at the head of the
beds. "Do you remember him at the party? Her second
husband, about ten years younger than her? I guess she
brought him along to show him off." Then she gestured at
the other wall. "And Susan has the room over there.
We're kind of boxed in."
I asked quietly, "Does that make you uncomfortable?"
"No." She made a face. "Well, yes. A little. I'd rather
not have to explain what you're doing in my room at this
hour, you know?"
"Do you want me to leave?"
"No."
"Do you want to go back to my room?"
"No. You're here, let's stay here. Just be a little
quiet, okay?"
I nodded in agreement. Then we embraced, and I kissed
her. Unlike the tentative kiss earlier in the afternoon,
our mutual uneasiness had disappeared and was now
replaced by a warm tenderness layered over smoldering
sexuality. Her body pressed against mine, her stomach
rubbing back and forth against my hardening erection as
our tongues intertwined in each other's mouth. My hands
moved up and down her back, holding her against me, and
she purred softly.
"Becky, are we making a big mistake?"
"This feels like a dream to me, Peter. It's almost like
going back in time and doing things differently."
"But you still have to live in the present."
"I know. But that's in Seattle, and I'm 2000 miles and
twenty years from there." Her body continued to caress
mine. My cock was beginning to get uncomfortable.
"Peter," she began slowly, "I want to go to bed with
you, but I left my
diaphragm at home. I'm sorry. Do you have--"
"A condom? No, but I have a vasectomy. And I'm safe."
She rubbed against me and sighed. "I was hoping. I trust
you."
I kissed her again. "This feels like old times. But not
really. I know a lot more now than I did twenty years
ago."
"Show me."
I slipped my hands up underneath her sweat suit top and
found bare breasts.
"Very nice," I whispered, and lifted her top up and off.
"You should have seen them twenty years ago."
"I tried. You wouldn't let me." My hands explored her
curves. "I don't see how they could be any better than
they are right now." I noticed she was wearing a gold
necklace with a teddy bear charm. "Is that the one I
gave you?"
"Yes. I brought it, thinking you might be here at the
Reunion." Becky unbuttoned my shirt and I helped her
slip it off. We embraced again, now skin to hot skin. I
could feel her hardened nipples against my hairy chest,
and that only increased the pressure in my pants. Her
hands found my belt buckle and zipper, and I found
myself standing there naked, my erection standing almost
vertical between us, ticking with my heartbeat. Becky
looked down and smiled at it. "Hello there!"
"My turn," I told her, and slid her pants and underwear
down in a single movement. "Back up," I instructed, and
I guided her backwards to the nearest bed and down on
her back. As I crawled between her legs, her knees
opened to give me room and her pink inner labia parted
slightly as her thighs separated. It was a glorious
sight. She had a small patch of reddish golden hair on
top, and large, pouty lips, with a sexy hint of hair
trailing down each side of her mound and around her
anus.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous." I lowered my mouth to
run my tongue lightly along her thickening inner lips.
Becky's legs curled lazily, her feet rubbing up and down
my calves, and she pulled my face closer. She made small
whimpers and wiggled her hips as my tongue plunged into
her vagina, tasting and smelling her musky juices, then
slid up and across her exposed clit. The clit-head poked
in and out of hiding as she clenched her muscles.
"You're really wet. I can see it dripping out of you."
Becky groaned and held me. "That was a real problem back
in high school. We'd go parking and you'd get me sopping
wet by just kissing me." I nibbled on her clit and she
gasped sharply. "Maybe that's another reason why I never
let you touch me. Embarrassed, I guess."
I hummed in acknowledgement. My mouth was too busy
playing with her to talk.
"You thought I was a prude. Mmmmm," she pushed her hips
up at me as I slipped two fingers inside. "Just shy.
Then I'd go home and masturbate." I stretched her
opening, reaching up to find her G-spot as I sucked on
her clit. Becky groaned and pushed her hips up off the
bed at me.
"Shit, that feels good." She reached down with both
hands and spread her lips apart. Her pussy was wide
open, her lips fattened with glistening arousal, the
slickness matting her pubic hair and oozing down to her
anus. "Peter," she tugged at me, "Peter, wait, I'm
almost cumming. I don't want to cum this way. I want you
inside me."
I raised up on my elbows and looked down at her. She was
breathing fast, her chest was flushed. Her sex was raw
and open and inviting.
"Let's save the bedspread," I suggested, and we pulled
the covers down to expose the sheets. She laid back down
again, legs spread wide, but I had something else in
mind. I crawled into the bed and sat with my back to the
headboard, my legs curled Indian fashion. Becky looked
at me, puzzled. "Sit in my lap, facing me," I told her,
holding out my arms to her.
Becky sat up and worked her body against mine, sitting
on my outstretched legs and wrapping her legs around me,
her arms around my neck. My pulsating cock notched into
her slit. I was in heaven. "I like this," Becky sighed.
"This way we're the same height. I can look at your
face." Her hips worked her clit against me. I could feel
the hard little nubbin along the sensitive underside of
my shaft, and it was driving me crazy with anticipation.
"I want you," I whispered.
It was at that moment I heard the moan from the
adjoining room. It was the unmistakable sound of a
sexually aroused woman.
Becky giggled. "That's Barb," she whispered, "and that
young guy she married. Do you think they heard us?"
"I doubt it. We've been pretty quiet."
"Do you want to move to the floor or something? Away
from the wall? I think their bed is right on the other
side of us."
"No. Let's just be quiet. It sounds like they just
started."
Becky nodded. She whispered into my ear, "This is like
when we were necking behind the backdrop of the Little
Theater during dress rehearsal, remember? We had to be
really, really quiet."
I found her ear. "First one to make noise, loses."
She smiled and nodded. Our hips had been gyrating
constantly against each other, spreading the lubrication
and driving our excitement upwards. She raised up
slightly, boosted by my legs, and aimed her vaginal
opening at my cock-head. We stayed there, right on the
edge of penetration, to savor the moment that had
escaped us two decades before. Through the wall came two
more loud cries from Barb, and a quieter grunt from her
husband.
"Wait," Becky mouthed silently. We heard a woman's
indistinct voice, then a man's, then Barb's muffled
"Fuck me."
I didn't know how much longer I could wait like this,
poised on the threshold. But I didn't have to wait long.
Through the wall came the drawn out sound of moans from
both of them, probably as he entered her, and at hearing
that, Becky leaned forward to kiss me as she lowered
herself on my cock, and I was impaled into the hot,
tight slickness of her vagina.
My high school sweetheart, that exciting little blonde
who was saving her virginity for another time and
another man, had just given me a present that no virgin
could give, the pleasure that an experienced lover can
give and receive and share.
We broke our kiss, panting, her inner muscles squeezing
a welcome to the base of my cock as I twitched back in
response. This moment, this initial penetration of a new
lover, is always intense, almost overwhelming, and with
Becky it was doubly so. It was almost like a twenty-year
courtship.
"Wow," was all she uttered, mostly to herself. She too
seemed lost in the moment.
"Yeah." We weren't going to count that as noise. I could
feel her vagina holding me from base to tip, cradling my
curved shape, which was straining to reach up inside
her, pointing at her heart.
The sounds we couldn't make to each other were filtering
through the walls at us, mirroring what was happening
between the two of us. Barb was a vocal lover, and she
was apparently enjoying her husband's every thrust. He
was quieter, but we could still hear him grunting in
syncopation to her louder sounds of pleasure.
Becky and I held each other, rocking together and
feeling each other and listening. The position we were
using gave us deep penetration, though long strokes were
impossible -- two or three exquisite inches at the most.
We moved slowly, deliberately and tantalizingly slowly,
sliding to the hilt into her velvety insides, feeling
her cervix reach down and flutter against my cock-head,
then back out with her pussy gripping me as if pleading
with my erection to stay. Barb's noises were getting
more insistent, and our own excitement matched hers.
I was panting with quick, shallow breaths into her ear,
and Becky was gasping into mine. We held each other
tightly, our hands wandering between back and neck,
squeezing and caressing each other the same way my
erection was caressing her and her vagina was squeezing
me. In the next room Barb was also approaching a climax,
her moans and groans intensifying to open throated cries
as her lover pounded into her.
Our own gradual movements were bringing us both
incredible sensations. Becky was lubricating like no
other woman I had ever known. Her juices flowed out of
her, making squishy sounds as my shaft persistently
rocked in and out. Becky's vagina was liquid heat
gripping the rigid pole of my cock, and our shared
tension was climbing.
I thrust deep into her, grinding my pelvic bone against
her exposed clit, and held on tight to her hips. The
headboard in the other room started thumping against the
wall. They were getting close, and so were we.
Becky was whimpering, her body jerking as she rubbed
herself against me. I was frantic to get even deeper
inside her, to finally cum into her body. Her breath was
erratic, desperately trying to control her urge to cry
out. I could feel my cock hardening, lengthening,
acutely aware of every curve and ripple of her sheath.
She was close.
Suddenly the voices fell silent, and there was only the
sound of that banging headboard, faster and faster,
signaling their impending climax. My mouth found Becky's
and we softly groaned into each other as Barb's final
throaty shrieks and her husband's deep grunts penetrated
anew through the wall.
Their shared orgasms triggered ours. I dug my fingers
into Becky's tight buttocks in an instinctive urge to
bury myself as deep inside her as I could possibly get,
and my body froze as my muscle clenching, head exploding
paralysis peaked and hung there for a brief eternity.
Becky kept moving, grinding her pussy against me, hard,
and she bit down on the fleshy part of my shoulder as
her whole body shuddered, and I began to spasm white-hot
jets into her twitching vagina, her muscles rhythmically
clenching around the base of my penis.
I spurted repeatedly into her, in long thick streams of
pleasure, and she twisted and rolled her hips around and
around to prolong it for both of us, to feel the semen
surging through my cock and encourage me to empty myself
completely into the deepest recesses of her soul.
We made no noise aside from our ragged breathing. The
lovers in the next room were our vocal surrogates. We
could only listen to them and listen to our own
connected bodies, sharing heart-pounding pleasure.
We continued to hold each other, my erection softening
only slightly inside this beautiful woman's body, which
was now filled with our mixed fluids. "Mom always told
me," Becky whispered, "that I'd be happier if I waited.
I don't think this is quite what she had in mind,
though."
I rolled Becky onto her back without slipping out, and
then slowly stroked my half-erection in her exquisitely
slippery vagina. I was hoping I could get hard again,
but I knew I wouldn't be too disappointed if that wasn't
going to happen. She gazed up at me with dreamy eyes.
"If we don't watch out, this is going to become a habit.
Every twenty years or so."
Just then we heard a female squeal come through the
wall. Then came another one of Barb's long moans. Becky
rolled her eyes in mock disgust, "Oh, here we go again."
Her vagina gripped me, and I felt my erection starting
to reverse its decline.
It was going to be a long night, as long as Barb didn't
get hoarse.
THE END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 23