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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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Earning the First Gold Star
by Dawn (Dawn in Red)
***
A series of events, several things my husband did that
bothered me, a very sexy neighbor, some competitive
fire sparked by a younger woman's attitude and a
couple of coincidences all combined to lead me cheat
on my husband for the first time. And that wasn't the
only first of the night. But in the end I got the gold
star. (MF, oral, anal)
***
Alan, my husband of 21 years, has lately been giving
off hints that he thinks he has missed something in
life by getting married so young and staying faithful
so long. I don't think he missed a thing by being
married to me. At least, I didn't used to think so,
but now I know there is more to life than one partner,
no matter how much you love that partner.
Let me back up a bit and provide some background. My
name is Dawn, I'm 42, and I've been married to Alan
since a month after my 21st birthday. He is 2 years
older than me. We met in college during his final year
of undergrad and were married just 9 months later,
just before he started law school. I was madly in love
with him from the first date, and though he wasn't my
first lover, he was my only lover for 22 years. The
early years of our marriage were tough financially,
but we were in love and in lust and everything worked
out.
Then he graduated and got a clerkship that was
prestigious but didn't pay many bills, so I worked
full time and provided most of our income for those
first five or six years of our marriage. Once he
joined his first firm, the money was better but
student loans and credit card debt had to be paid.
Then he left his firm to go to a startup firm that
made big promises, but folded within 3 years. After
about 5 months without a job, he joined a major firm
but had no seniority.
That frustrated him, so 2 years later he and a friend
left and hung out their own shingle. All of this goes
to explain why we always thought it best that I keep
working and that we hold off on starting a family. By
the time his new partnership started to be a success,
we were mid 30's and settled into the no-child
lifestyle.
Sorry to be so long winded, but this brings you
forward to our current situation. I am 42, Alan is 44.
He is now very successful in his law practice and I
was able to quit working full time, doing some
marketing contract consultant work and a bit of event
planning. Life is pretty good for us.
That is why it bothered me so much when Alan started
telling me tales of our neighbor, and his golf buddy,
Eric. Eric is a very successful real estate developer
and lives just the next street over from us. We met
about 3 years ago at a neighborhood function right
after we bought our house. Eric and Alan became good
friends, having golf in common among other things.
Eric sponsored us for membership in the local country
club.
Eric is about 6'1" (2" 3" taller than Alan), and at
46 his hair, though very full compared to Alan's
thinning locks, is already silver gray. His blue eyes
and bright white teeth set off a very fit physique.
Eric is the most eligible man in the neighborhood and
in the country club, and if the stories Alan tells are
half true, he enjoys the perks of his status very
much. Apparently he has cut quite a swath through the
ladies of our community.
Good for him, I always thought. He isn't married and
he isn't cheating on any promises to anyone. The only
trouble was, whether he was hearing them after golf,
or at a couple of guy's nights out, or where, Eric's
stories of the single life among the ladies of our
community were having an effect on Alan. A comment
here or there about how early we had married, or how
long we had been married, or how he had never been
single with money, or ... enough already, Alan, I get
it. Twenty-one years with the same woman, but I look
damn good for my age, I work out hard to stay that
way, and I've always been faithful even though I
married even younger than you!
I guess my competitive juices were flowing, and all
the stories did give me another reason to think about
sex (not that I've usually needed any reason). But
whether it was thinking I wanted to prove something,
or what, one Saturday night in what should have been a
routine (if infrequent) sex session with Alan our sex
talk went in a new direction. As he was above me,
stroking away, my mind started to wander and my eyes
closed while I concentrated on the wonderful feeling
of his cock sliding in and out of me.
I was getting into it more and more, my heels sliding
up the back of his thighs when I heard him mumbling
something, I couldn't make it out but was sure I heard
"better than ..." in there. I pushed my head back into
the pillow and looked at his face I would have
looked in his eyes, but they were closed as he stepped
it up even faster, now pounding like a man possessed.
"What the hell are you thinking about?!" I demanded.
His eyes snapped open, shocked back into the present.
But he only slowed for a couple of seconds, then
slammed his hips into me as hard as he ever has.
"How I'm fucking you better than Eric is fucking
Natalie tonight!" he crowed. Now Natalie was Eric's
latest fling, a 28 year old gorgeous redhead with a
slim build and a constant bored expression on her
face. Was Alan telling me the truth, or was he really
fantasizing about fucking Natalie himself. Instead of
getting angry, I rose to the challenge.
"I'm so much better than Natalie, you asshole! But
what makes you think you're better than Eric?"
That made him pause, but only for a split second. Then
Alan rose up on his hands above me and slammed me for
all he was worth, panting "Best you've ever had or
will ever have, admit it Babe!"
Oh yeah? A challenge, this was sexual combat now. I
reached up and pulled his head down to mine, driving
my tongue between his lips. He accepted it for only a
second, then pushed back with his tongue, trying to
drive mine back inside my mouth. All the time his cock
was working magic inside me, I was a wet as I'd been
in a long, long time. Now I was sucking his tongue
eagerly, my legs wide and kicking in rhythm with his
pounding. He broke our kiss with "Admit it, I'm the
best you've ever had!"
Grabbing him around the neck and shoulders with both
arms, I set my left foot on the mattress and rolled
right hard, rolling over on top of him. I wanted to
win this battle, but I also wanted his cock to keep
doing its wonders to my pussy. I leaned forward, my
36C breasts swaying above his face. I leaned justly
slightly to the right, bringing my left nipple to his
lips. He took the bait and sucked my nipple between
his lips. "Better tits than Natalie's, I promise you
that Buddy! Aren't they?"
He didn't answer, just begin to alternate sucking on
my nipple with scrapping his teeth across it lightly.
Suck, scrape. Suck, scrape. I pressed my pelvis
forward, grinding on him, riding his cock (was I
imagining things, or was it harder than it had been in
years) when he proved how much he knew me, my body, my
responses.
His teeth scraping my nipple became firmer, now
lightly biting as his right hand pressed between us.
He worked his middle finger into my pussy along with
his cock for a few seconds, then pulled it out and
reached around, his now moistened finger pressing at
the opening of my ass. He paused there, seeming to
will me to show him I wanted it. I wasn't going to let
him win, I thought, but then he bit down harder (but
not too hard) on my nipple and "YES!" burst from my
lips.
Alan pressed his finger into my ass, sucked hard on my
nipple and slammed his hips up, bridging himself off
the mattress. I ground my pelvis into his, my pussy
clinching his cock, my clitoris grinding against his
lower abdomen, my sphincter clinching and relaxing
around his finger as my orgasm built. "Fuck yes!" I
shouted as I came hard, my whole body tensing and
waves of pleasure rolling through me.
As my orgasm was slowing, Alan rolled me to my back,
put his arms under my legs raising them up and over
his shoulders and slammed into me for all he was
worth. He was a mad machine, pounding away into me
harder and faster, and demanding I tell him he was the
best. I pressed my lips shut, shaking my head "no" but
despite my best efforts to show I was in control,
little whimpers were escaping my lips.
Again he showed how well he knew what I liked, as his
left arm reached more around my right leg and he
pinched my right nipple hard between his finger and
thumb. "Admit I'm the best, damn you, or I'll stop
fucking you! Admit it, Dawn!" he shouted.
I threw my head back into the pillow, and as my second
orgasm erupted from deep within I heard myself shout
back, "Damn you, Alan, damn you yes yes you're the
best. You're the fuckin' best, you're ... you're ...
ohhhh YESSSSSSSSSSSS!"
"Damn right I AMMMMM!" and with a final slam of his
pelvis he pressed as deep into me as he could and I
felt his cum erupt into me. I swear we were quivering
in sync with each other as our mutual orgasms peaked
and ran their course.
As good as that night was, it didn't start a renewed
constant lust between us. We fell back into our
comfortable lives, with sweet and enjoyable sex once
or twice a week, usually. The best of that sex always
seemed to be after we had been around Eric and his
fling of the month (or week, or night). It was like
Alan was in competition with Eric, and I was competing
against the newest fling. This worked for me for a
while (but never as good as it did that first night).
But after a few months I was tired of being in
competition. Did my husband really want me, the real
me, or was I a stand in for the latest to go through
Eric's revolving sex door Natalie, Brenda, Rhonda,
Ann, Brandi and more?
Then last summer, two things happened that didn't seem
to be connected, at the time, but eventually led to
the sex of my life. First, Alan told me a little
secret about Eric, something that he seemed to
consider a great confidence. Eric's basement is
finished out as a den/man cave complete with bar, big
screen, sound system, a game table and some
comfortable seating. Eric's TV watching chair is a big
over stuffed thing with a matching ottoman.
Alan said that Eric had made some comment one night
about if only that ottoman could talk, what stories it
could tell. When Alan asked what he meant, Eric said
turn it over and tell me what you see that might be
unusual. There were apparently some markings, "hash
marks" (you know, four lines, then a 5th slanting
across them, then start again, like keeping score in a
game well, apparently exactly like keeping score)
twenty-one in total. And there were four silver stars
drawn in permanent marker. Alan told me that these
represented just the sexual partners Eric had "done
right there on the damn footstool." Boys and their
bragging, jeez.
Second, in addition to golf every weekend, Alan
started playing poker once a month with Eric and some
of his friends. One Friday night a month was no big
deal, and I enjoyed the chance to get together with
girlfriends, or spend an evening soaking in the tub
and reading. But after each of those nights Alan would
come home smelling of beer and cigars and full of
lust.
I knew he'd just been with the guys, so it wasn't more
of the Eric/bimbo competition. As a matter of fact,
Alan never seemed to mention Eric's latest loves at
all. But after the poker nights, he was ready for
action. I didn't like the smell, but I liked the sex
and didn't ask questions.
But one Friday he was out later than usual and I had
downed one more glass of wine with girlfriends than I
should have. I couldn't wait up, and so stripped to my
panties, pulled on one of Alan's t-shirts and crashed
into our bed, asleep almost instantly. Sometime in the
wee hours I was aware of Alan's return, but I didn't
fully awaken. He said something to me, but I'm sure I
just mumbled something incoherent in return. Then he
was beside me in bed, under the covers and spooning up
behind me. Cuddling was not a big part of our life
together, and I probably sighed a bit in appreciation
for his affection.
Alan rubbed my neck and shoulders a bit, then his hand
slid down my arm and over onto my tummy. He hugged me
back into him a bit as his hand slid under the t-shirt
and up my body. In my sleepy state I didn't quite
realize yet it wasn't comfortable cuddling that he had
on his mind. But at about the same time his hand
cupped my breast, I felt him slide up tighter behind
me and his hard cock rode up the outside of my
panties, right between my ass cheeks. He was rubbing
against me, hunching is a better term.
I feigned sleep mainly because I didn't know what else
to do. Sleep, real or feigned, didn't dissuade Alan
that night. He continued to rub his cock up and down
my ass, and now his hand left my breast and pushed
inside my panties in front, his fingers reaching down
between my lips, rubbing in rhythm with his humping.
For some reason I didn't pull away. Part was
curiosity, what did he have in mind. Part was
amazement, he'd never done anything like this before.
He had pressed for sex, many times, but always made
sure I was also in the mood. And part was a building
excitement, despite myself. This seemed to be the only
reaction that registered with Alan as his middle
finger pushed between my lips and into my pussy. He
knows how I like him to use the pads of his hands just
below his fingers to rub against my clit, and he was
doing that well, warming me to the proposition at hand
(pun intended).
But then without warning he removed his hand and used
it to pull my panties to the side, exposing my pussy
to him from behind. He pushed me to my stomach,
rolling with me, now searching for my opening with his
cock. We'd never had sex with so little foreplay, he'd
never been this aggressive. But he was my husband, and
I knew he loved me, and I loved him, and what girl
hasn't had a "forced" fantasy or two in her life?
His cock found its mark and his first penetration was
even a bit painful, I wasn't fully ready, but that
only added somehow to my bit of fantasy fulfillment
that seemed in store. In a few short strokes Alan was
fully inside me and was hammering away at me from
above and behind. Damn if he didn't grab my hair in
one hand and bring his lips to my ear and growl and
huff, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine as
he fucked me for all he was worth. He was grunting and
I could make out the occasional "Yeah, take it," or
"Fuckin,' yes," or even "This is how you like it,
isn't it."
I tried to work my hand back to caress him, to show
him it was still all about our love, but he just
grabbed my wrist and pressed my arm into the bed,
holding me by that wrist and by the hair as he pounded
away harder and faster. My willingness to take it like
this, to even enjoy being used as an object like this,
was somewhat surprising. This was all new territory,
but not totally unwelcomed. Nothing I'd want to be
standard, but ... then my thoughts were interrupted as
he pressed me hard into the bed with both hands as his
body stiffened and he slammed his cock all the way
into me and shouted, "Take that, slu...!"
He collapsed on top of me, panting. But he was only
there a few seconds before he rolled off of me back
towards his side of the bed. I lay there waiting to
see what would happen next when I heard his first
snore. Asleep!
I laid there bewildered and angry, excited but
frustrated, unsure of my next move. Did I want to
shake Alan awake? And do what? Did I want to reach for
my vibrator and bring myself the relief I wanted? But
in the end I just went to the bathroom and cleaned up,
glanced at my reflection in the mirror trying not to
focus on my flush, put on new panties and my most
comfy nightshirt and returned to bed beside my snoring
husband.
The next morning Alan was up early for golf. And he
was bleary eyed as he headed for the door without a
word about last night when I called to him, "You going
to leave without talking about last night?"
All I got was, "Sorry, Babe, I was drunk. You're so
damn sexy I just couldn't help myself, but to tell the
truth I don't remember much. Won't happen again. See
you the usual time. Bye." And he was out the door.
That wasn't really good enough for me, but I tried to
blow it off and accept his excuse of being drunk. When
I thought about it, it was such a mix of excitement
and anger that I was torn. Did I drop it, did I make
him talk about it and if we did, what would I say?
Never again or again, please again? But one little
part kept lurking in my brain. What was the last thing
he said in the throes of his orgasm? Did he call me
"slut"? Was it "take that, slut"? Take what? And
"slut"!?
Later that morning while my feet were soaking at the
nail salon, Amy Brandenburg, a neighbor I know just a
little from social situations sat down beside me to
soak toes. She and her husband Carl are members of our
country club, and Carl and Alan play golf some, and
Alan mentioned his name as one of the regular Friday
poker players. We chatted a bit, and then Amy blew me
away with a little girl-talk comment. She said that
she didn't know if she loved or hated the Friday night
poker games, because Carl always came home horny and
"primed for action." I tried not to react, but
innocently asked what about poker would make him that
way.
Amy was taking a sip of Diet Coke when I said that and
I thought the drink was going to come out her nose as
she laughed and coughed. "I don't think there is
anything about poker, that does it," she said, "but
the lap dances and boobs in his face at the strip club
later sure get him fired up!"
I tried not to look as shocked and unknowing as I was,
but she could see through me and found it quite
amusing. She told me that yes they played poker, but
by late in the evening some of the guys, especially
the married ones, always headed out to a local topless
bar. Amy found it very funny that I didn't seem to
know anything about it. But she was also very casual
about her husband being involved and thought it was
good, innocent adult fun. I wanted to agree with her
attitude, but why had Alan kept it a secret.
Did he just think I wouldn't approve, or did he have
more to hide? And what about that "slut" thing? I was
now sure that is what he said. Months before I thought
he might be fantasizing about Eric's woman of the
moment when he made love to me, but was he imagining
some young stripper when he took me the night before?
And how many other times have I taken the place of
some fantasy of a big titted bimbo from his Friday's
with the boys?
Well, things were cool between us for a few days, but
days became weeks and then a couple of months and I
got over it, mostly. Alan was clueless as to why his
frequenting a strip club would bother me.
Embarrassingly he even once said, "Why do you care
where I get my appetite, just so long as I eat my
meals at home."
Really, at 44 this is his thinking?
Then in late September he came home from golf one
Saturday raving about Eric's new girlfriend de jour.
Early 30's, beautiful, great rack (his term, not mine
for gosh sakes), supposedly one of the best looking
women ever. Oh boy, back to the virtual competition to
get my husband's mind off of Eric's sleaze of the
month and onto me where it belongs. I didn't know if I
could put up with it again.
Vicki was her name, and she apparently didn't intend
to be just a passing fancy in Eric's life. She made
herself part of his circle as fast as she could, and
damn her, she was not only as beautiful and sexy as
Alan had said, she had the nerve to be nice and
charming as well. So there was no way to turn down the
invitation when she called and invited us over for
cocktails and dinner one Saturday night along with a
few other couples "from the club."
But she didn't have to wear that "little black dress,"
the one with the low scoop neck that showed off her
ample cleavage, the one that fit so tight you could
see how flat her tummy was and how firm her butt was,
the one with the skirt so short that her tanned, toned
legs... grrrr, I could build up a real spite for this
woman if she weren't so polite and well mannered.
Drinks were plentiful and hors d'eouvres delightful,
both distributed by some of the Country Club wait
staff they had hired for the night. As Eric
entertained from his spot at the grill on the patio,
Vicki held court in the living room. Everyone chatted
and nibbled and drank and circulated. But often I
spotted Alan either talking with Vicki, straining to
look her in the eyes. A couple of other times I saw
him openly gawking at her across the room. I tried to
ignore his teenage actions and enjoy the party, but
the longer it went the more it bothered me. And the
more I remembered everything else in our love life
that had bothered me the past few months. Dinner was
delicious and diverted my attention to our friends and
good conversation.
But after dinner as the staff cleared everything away
and the group separated into those who wanted to drink
and talk outside by the pool and those who preferred
the indoors for the same activities, what did I spy
through the sliding glass door but Alan outside
talking with Vicki again, his eyes darting down
frequently, which she had to see but ignored. As she
laughed at something Alan had said, her head turned
towards the glass door and we were looking at each
other eye to eye.
She held her head still for a few seconds, the two of
us silently looking at the other, as Alan carried on
his monologue, trying to impress her I'm sure. A
little smirk crossed her lips and she turned back to
Alan, again laughing at something he said, this time
reaching out and touching his arm. It could have been
innocent, or it could have been predatory, but to me
mostly it said that she thought she was the alpha
female at the party and I better understand it.
I wanted to go out there and knock that smirk off her
face. I wanted to go out there and slap my husband's
foolish face. But what I did was go to the bar set up
in their kitchen and get a drink and go wandering the
house to get my mind off the two of them. Nothing was
going to happen between them, but I told myself that
Alan better not be expecting to get any when we got
home if he got anything it would be a piece of my
mind.
As I strolled around, exchanging a few words with a
guest here and there, I found myself in the breakfast
room at the top of the stairs that obviously led down
to Eric's infamous man cave. The door was open, and a
light on down there so I strolled down. The TV was on
a cable music channel, but the room was deserted. I
strolled around, sipping my drink, looking at the
magazines on a coffee table, the artwork on the walls,
but slowly zeroing in on the ottoman Alan had told me
about. I couldn't resist, so I dropped to my knees and
was in the process of lifting one side of the ottoman
to look underneath when I heard, "Did you lose
something, or has our Alan been talking out of
school?"
I jumped and looked up to see Eric standing there at
the base of the stairs, drink in hand and a big grin
on his face. I was embarrassed and mumbled something
as I stood, wanting to run but my path to the stairs
blocked. He chuckled and told me I was blushing.
Damnit, I'm sure I was. He said he should have known
that Alan couldn't keep a secret from me. And then he
said, "Alan can't help himself when he's around a
beautiful woman, can he? He just blabs and fawns and
drools, that is quite a horn dog you married, but I'm
sure you know better than me."
I had no idea what to respond to first, if anything.
Was I snooping, trying to know something about Eric's
conquests? What does he know about Alan that I don't,
what has he seen Alan do around other women? And did
he say I was beautiful?
He told me to go ahead and look, but he hoped I could
keep a secret better than Alan could. He crossed the
room to where I was and reached down and lifted the
ottoman, turning its underside to me. There in silver
paint or marker of some kind was just what Alan hand
told me. Twenty-one hash marks and four silver stars.
No, that's twenty-two marks, was Alan wrong or had the
list expanded?
As he put the ottoman back down, he grinned and said
to go ahead and ask my questions, but he didn't "kiss
and tell." So I started asking, and he very matter-of-
factly answered each question.
Were the four starts part of the twenty-two? No,
different women. So twenty-six partners in how long?
Well, that was a bit personal, but twenty-six
involving the ottoman over more than twenty years. So
just over one a year? With the ottoman involved, yes.
There were others that didn't find their way to den
and the ottoman? That just brought a grin as he took a
sip of his drink. So the big question. What earns a
star instead of just a mark? Don't ask a question if
you may not like the answer. Well I'm asking, why the
stars? Those are married women. Married women! Any I
know? Don't kiss and tell, remember, but yes. One of
them is here at the party. Oh my gawd! Now I knew I
was blushing again.
"But I'll never tell you who, I mean it when I say I
don't kiss and tell," he stated firmly. "I believe
strongly in discretion. But I also believe strongly in
fun between consenting adults." That last part brought
a smile and a twinkle to his eyes. I began to
understand how he earned his reputation, and how women
became marks on his furniture. "You know," he
continued, "I meant it when I said you are a beautiful
woman. Alan is so very lucky to have you, I hope he
treats you as you deserve."
I blushed more and looked down, avoiding his eyes, not
knowing how to respond. With a finger under my chin he
raised my face up until we were looking at each other
and he whispered, "Very beautiful." I thought he was
going to kiss me, and if he had tried I don't know
what I would have done, but instead he stepped back,
grinned and said he hoped he hadn't embarrassed me too
badly. Did I have any more questions?
I don't know where it came from, but I looked at him,
looked down at the ottoman, back at Eric and asked,
"What would a woman have to do to earn a gold star?"
He laughed out loud, reached out and pulled me to him,
giving me a big hug. It felt good in his arms, but
Eric released me and took a couple of steps back and
sat on his big chair, gesturing to me to take a seat
on the ottoman. I sat, and then begin the strangest
conversation of my life. Eric told me this was all
hypothetical, but would I play the part of the
hypothetical woman wanting to earn the gold star.
After a big gulp of my drink I told him I would, go
on.
Well, she would have to qualify for a silver star, so
she would have to be married, of course. Of course,
and this hypothetical woman is married. She would have
to be married to someone I know, someone who loves
this hypothetical wife. OK, no problem there. Earning
the gold star would have to be something she wants to
do, she would have to be clear that it is her choice.
OK, so it has to be her desire, but wouldn't you at
least tempt her a bit? I said her choice, but desire
is probably a better word. And of course I'd tempt
her, I have to want this as much as she does. And if
she isn't sure?
Then she should wait until she is sure, very sure, but
she should know that when I am with a woman I desire,
I commit everything to our mutual pleasure, I don't do
half way. Ummm, uhhh, back to the gold star, what
would it take for a gold star? Good focus, Dawn. So
far I've just described the hypothetical next silver
star recipient. Except I didn't mention the incredible
sex, at least part of it involving that ottoman under
your most attractive bottom.
For gold I think that during our very intense sexual
activities she would want to do a couple of things
with me that she's never done, or at least never done
with her husband. So it's at least a bit about
outdoing her husband, proving you're a better man or a
better lover? No, making a cuckold of some poor guy
has nothing to do with it. The husband has nothing to
do with it.
When a single woman has sex with me, I always wonder
what else she wants from me. With a married woman, I'm
pretty sure it's only the sex she wants, and that's
when sex is best, don't you think? Well, I don't know
what the hypothetical woman would think about that,
but I guess she would be glad it wasn't about a male
contest somehow, but was more about her. Oh, it will
err, would be all a whole lot about her and her
pleasure. But for a gold star she has to commit even
more to it than she has committed to her husband.
So what couple of things that she hasn't done with her
husband? Well, let's see, does she ever talk really
dirty with her husband, graphically describe what she
wants? Oh, yes, I, uh, I think she probably has been
known to do that when she is really turned on. OK,
maybe, has she ever had anal sex with her husband? No,
not with, I mean, well, no. OK, has he ever presented
her with a pearl necklace? Like a string of no, oh
that pearl necklace. No I'm sure he hasn't, speaking
hypothetically.
Then speaking hypothetically I'd say we have it. The
gold star standard would be a married woman, of her
own free will and own desire, on that ottoman your
gracing so beautifully, taking it willing where she
never has and finishing by wearing the evidence of my
excitement. Yep, sounds like a gold star performance
to me!
I had more questions, but he seemed done. Part of me
wanted to tell him that I hope he finds his gold star
woman someday if it was important to him, but don't be
expecting me back in his den. But another part of me
wanted to earn that star then and there.
"Here you two are!" brought me out of my moral and
sexual quandary and into the present. It was Vicki
quickly descending the stairs, and she strode right up
to Eric, leaned over pressing her ample bosom against
the side of his neck and face as she hugged his
shoulders and asked, "What are you two up to? Solving
world problems or plotting to run off to Tahiti
together? Come on Eric, time to rejoin all of our
guests, some are about to leave."
He stood, offered me his hand to help me stand up from
the ottoman, and the three of us headed upstairs. Once
back on the main floor, Eric headed towards the living
room to intercept any guests who were leaving and I
turned towards the sliding doors to see if Alan was
still out by the pool. But Vicki stopped me by
grabbing my arm tightly and pulling me back, bringing
her mouth to within a couple of inches of my ear.
"Don't even think about it, bitch! I'll win, and then
I'll take something, or someone, of yours!" she
growled in my ear. Releasing me she headed off the
same direction as Eric had gone. My, my, what an
interesting evening. So much for the charming, polite
Miss Vicki.
I found Alan soon after and suggested we leave. Eric
and Vicki were the perfect polite hosts as they said
their good byes at the door. Despite my earlier
resolve, Alan and I made love that night, but I'm sure
in his mind he was screwing Vicki, I know I couldn't
keep Eric out of mine.
On the next Monday morning I was checking emails on my
personal email account I use for my event planning
business when I saw I had an something from Eric. The
subject was "Hypotheticals." The message had no
salutation nor signature, it simply read, "My private
cell is 469-xxx-xxxx, that is where I would
hypothetically receive a private text, hypothetically
speaking." (Of course, the real number was in his
email). His meaning was clear. If I was serious, he
was serious. We both knew the ground rules. The next
move was mine.
For the next few weeks I alternately thought about
sending Eric a text and told myself I was crazy. The
I'm crazy side was winning, it was fun to fantasize
and fun to exchange sexy talk with Eric, but I am a
married woman, a happily married woman, and Eric is a
friend of my husband's, and a million other reasons it
was a stupid idea. But there were also three things I
couldn't dismiss. I was attracted to Eric physically,
the "naughtiness" of earning that gold star was
intoxicating, and who the hell did that bimbo Vicki
think she was talking to me like that! Still, as I
said, the angel on right shoulder was beating out the
devil on my left.
Then three things happened over the course of about 24
hours that combined to turn my mental tide. First I
saw Vicki at the grocery store and she didn't speak,
just glared at me, proving she considered us rivals.
Second, Alan was leaving for a business trip, a couple
of days to take some depositions, and he had a stack
of files and papers for his trip on our dresser prior
to packing his suitcase and briefcase. I accidentally
knocked part of the stack on to the floor, and in
gathering them up I found a print out from a website,
a description of the best topless clubs in the city
where Alan was travelling.
He'd even highlighted some of the key passages on a
couple of the descriptions. The trip wasn't going to
be all work and grind, more like part bump and grind.
Then the next morning while shopping for some office
supplies for an event planning job pitch I was making
that week I spotted something called a Pen-Touch Gold
Paint Pen perfect for putting a gold star on the
bottom frame of an ottoman! I bought the pen.
As soon as Alan was out the door I started the battle
of conscience. Was I going to send a text to Eric? And
say what? No, I wasn't going to, I didn't do that kind
of thing. Get over yourself, Dawn, I mean would Eric
even really want me after all, or was it just a tease?
Well, yes he seemed like he would. But I don't cheat.
But my husband can't wait to throw his money at young
naked women as soon as he gets out of town. And what
about Vicki, calling me a bitch?
That gold digging whore, she didn't scare me and she
didn't intimidate me (much). So if I did send a text
what would I say? What if Eric did just think it was
all a tease and turned me down? Was it just a tease, a
joke among friends? In the end I thought I had the
perfect solution. I pulled out my cell phone and took
a picture of the Pen-Touch Gold Paint Pen and sent it
as a MMS text message to Eric. I didn't add any
wording. I wasn't really suggesting anything, just
continuing the tease/joke with a friend.
Within minutes I got a text back. It took my breath
away. There on the screen of my cell phone was, "If
you're sure, not just hypothetically sure, 8:00
tonight. The garage door will be open, close it after
you park. You know where I'll be."
The rest of the day was a nervous blur, the clock
alternating between crawling along and then an hour
zipping by. I didn't know if I should send another
text. What would I say? Was I really going to show up
at 8:00? Or was I going to back out? Should I text if
it's one way and not the other? Oh damn, what do you
wear to your first affair?
I did what I like to do when I have a big decision, I
took a nice bubble bath. But instead of thinking about
what would be the right thing for me to do, I started
fantasizing about Eric nude and what might happen? And
for the first time it really hit me anal?! Jeez, yes
I liked it when Alan put a finger there, especially in
concert with his tongue or his cock pleasuring my
pussy. But to take it in the ...
That made me more than nervous, now I was scared. So
after I dried off from the bath I did what I like to
do when I'm nervous or scared. I had a nice glass of
wine. And then another. I didn't dare eat anything, I
didn't know if I could keep it down.
Back to the what to wear problem. Even if I don't go,
it won't hurt to get ready, maybe after I'm dressed
I'll just call a girlfriend and go out for a drink.
First my favorite little black dress, but no, that
reminded me of Vicki. At least her threat hadn't
scared me off, if I didn't go it wouldn't be because
of that tramp. Maybe I should work from the inside
out. Rifling through my lingerie drawer, deciding this
was silly, pick out something Dawn. OK, keep it
simple, black lace demi bra and matching bikini
panties. Now the dress ummm, ok the red crisscross
dress, I like the way I look in it. Simple but pretty,
but is red too slutty? For an affair, get serious,
Dawn.
The red crisscross it is, but that doesn't work with
the bra. Change to matching blush multi-way bra and
bikini panties. That almost wouldn't work because my
hands were shaking so badly I had hell getting the
straps off of the bra to wear it strapless. Finally,
that decision made, now about makeup. What time is it
anyways? Oh no, 7:40, to the vanity, keep the makeup
simple. But red dress, should be red lipstick, right?
Shoes, shoes! Usually shoes were almost the first
decision I made.
OK, the golden tan open toed buckle straps, 2 ½ inch
heel. Nice, but not were they too nice? Too bad, no
time, they have to do. Bottom line, I was so rushed I
had no chance at the end to even stop and think about
what I was doing, to even reconsider backing out.
Luckily just before I left and after putting driver's
license, a twenty dollar bill, lipstick, compact and a
brush in a red and gold clutch, I remembered the gold
paint pen, adding it to the clutch.
At 8:01 (according to the digital clock in the car) I
was backing out of my garage for the one block drive.
My heart was racing as I turned the corner and
approached Eric's house. I turned in and the driveway
curved beside his house to the garage in back. As
promised, the garage door was up on one side to an
empty space. I drove in, put the car in park and
turned off the key. Then it hit me, what I was really
doing. I didn't know if I could walk. But I was also
so nervous that I didn't really have any higher brain
activity, such as you're a married woman who is about
to cheat on her husband for the first time, what are
you doing?
I just made one limb move at a time, got out of the
car, walked to the door and entered the house, barely
registering the little hand lettered sign that said
"Garage Door Close" above what looked like a doorbell.
I think I pushed it, I think I remember hearing the
garage door go down. I was in Eric's kitchen, just
across the breakfast room from there was the stairs
down to the basement den, where the ottoman was, and
where, I assumed, Eric was waiting. What was he
expecting? What was he wearing? God, I hope he's
wearing something. Somehow I made it to the steps and
started down.
He was standing by the bar, khakis, blue Oxford cloth
button-down dress shirt, cordovan loafers and matching
belt, very classic and very much a man in his castle.
"Wow, you look even more beautiful than the last time
I saw you," was his opening line. Hey, compliments are
never a bad way to start. "Can I get you a drink, a
glass of wine perhaps, or something else? I have
margaritas made."
I took a seat on one of the barstools and accepted the
margarita he offered. It was very good, and sipping it
kept me from having to talk, or even look at Eric
directly. He carried the conversation, talking about
local events, a little scandal that had hit the
country club recently, I almost expected him to
comment on the weather, he was being so casual and
nonchalant. I only had to answer a time or two with
brief comments, or simply nod my understanding. I
wasn't going to look over at the ottoman at all costs,
but I was also having a hard time looking him in the
eyes, so it didn't really register that he had moved
around the bar and was standing right next to me.
As we continued our conversation he ran his little
finger up the outside of my arm and I almost jumped
off the barstool. I don't remember what we talked
about, but I do remember him nonchalantly touching not
only my arm, but my thigh, my hair, my cheek and even
reaching around to lightly stroke the back of my neck.
Noticing my glass was empty, he stepped away and
poured me another. When he brought it back around the
bar he handed it to me and watched me take a sip (or
gulp).
Then he took the glass from my hand, set it on the bar
and with one finger of his right hand raised chin
until I was looking straight up at him. As he leaned
in closer, he whispered, "Are you sure?" I nodded yes
and his lips moved to mine, a soft, brief kiss.
My lips followed his as he moved away, then a small
whimper passed them as it was obvious that first kiss
wasn't to be followed up immediately. But he did reach
out and the back of the fingers of his right hand up
and down across my left breast, bumping his fingers
across my nipple. "Where's the gold pen?" he asked.
"In my purse" I responded, a quiver to my voice.
"Grab your purse and go home and call your husband and
tell him you love him. Or get your purse and pull out
the gold pen and put it on the bar to show me you're
positive. Positive you're ready for an unbelievable
night. I'm really looking forward to this," he told me
and then leaned in and gave me a real kiss. I mean a
REAL kiss. I remember my first thought (and maybe last
conscious thought of the night) was if he can kiss
like this, how well does he fuck?
After we broke the kiss, I only hesitated a second
before opening my clutch, just a brief reassessment of
what I wanted, and I still didn't know exactly, but
that didn't matter, I pulled the pen out and dropped
it on the bar. I stared at it briefly, then turned up
to look Eric in the eyes. His smile was sweet, he
seemed like he was genuinely happy, and he didn't move
or say a word as we just looked at each other. Then he
moved around me where I was between him and the bar,
swung me around on the stool with his hand on my
thigh, and stepped up close, his legs pushing in
between mine and leaned in and kissed me for real the
second time, this time with more urgency. His tongue
did its magic with mine as his left hand grabbed the
back of my head, his fingers in my hair, and his right
hand cupped my left breast, this thumb flicking across
my nipple he could obviously feel through the fabric
of my dress and my bra. I know I could feel it
pressing against its confinement.
We continued to kiss for a few minutes as our hands
roamed each other's bodies. Mine across his back and
neck and chest, I remember thinking briefly that his
body was as firm as Alan's had been twenty years
earlier. That was the last thought I had of Alan for
some time. Because about then Eric started a hand
running up and down my thigh, from my knee to mid-
thigh, then knee to upper thigh, then ... the first
time his thumb hit my pussy through the material of my
panties, I literally jumped on the stool. His broke
our kiss and moved his hips and tongue to my neck and
ears, hitting all my spots one right after another.
Both hands worked up my thighs, pushing the bottom of
my dress up with them until with both hands on my
waist he lifted me a couple of inches off the stool
and continued to raise my dress at the same time,
apparently using his little fingers hooked under the
hem. Instead of thinking that my god, a man other than
my husband is undressing me, I remember just being
amazed that he was so strong and coordinated and he
must have really big hands, I hadn't really noticed,
and if his hands are that big does that mean that...
then he continued to lift my dress and pulled it all
the way off over my head and for the first time this
stopped being fantasy for me and I realized I was
going to have sex with Eric. Eric, not Alan.
Eric, the biggest cad in the neighborhood. Eric, this
incredibly sexy man who seemed to want me. Eric with
the big hands. Any last doubt left me, at that time I
didn't want anything other than to be with him. Give
myself to him. Be taken by him. Fuck him.
We kissed more as he reached around me and unhooked my
bra. His hands were warm on my breasts and as he
caressed and flicked and cupped and pinched waves of
pleasure ran through me. When he lowered his head and
first took my left nipple into his mouth, I moaned. It
was my turn to run my fingers through his hair, pull
him into me. His left hand was on my thigh again, and
then the side of his hand was pressing between my
legs, rubbing me through my panties.
I don't remember wanting myself to, or willing myself
to, but I pushed my hips forward, meeting the pressure
from his hand with my own. I moaned louder. Suddenly
both of his hands were on my hips, fingers under the
waist band of my panties and one slight but firm
motion he lifted me slightly and pushed down on my
panties at the same time. Just like that he was
sliding them down my legs and over my shoes, they were
the last bit of my clothing not on his floor.
Eric kissed his way back up my chest and neck and ears
and then back to my lips as his right hand this time
ran up my thigh, now his fingers stroking my entrance,
his fingers rotating and rubbing and probing a little
until I felt his thumb and finger part my lips, his
middle finger start to push its way into me, and I
moaned loudly into his mouth. For the first time in
twenty-one years someone other than my husband (or
myself) was entering my pussy. Damn it felt good.
I was leaning back against the bar, Eric's left arm
around me to keep me from falling, his lips on mine,
our tongues dancing together, and his right hand
finger fucking me faster and harder with each few
strokes. I spread my legs even wider, my feet running
up the backs of his legs until my legs were around his
waist. I opened myself to him, so hungry for more and
more of the incredible feelings that he was causing to
course through my body. I had to break our kiss, my
head back, my legs wide and locked around him. I was
so filled with desire and lust, so damn hot and horny,
so much his to use, please keep using. I felt a
tightness deep inside, felt my pleasure welling up. It
sounded like someone else making the noises I know
were mine.
Then in a flash his hand was away from my pussy and
about as soon as the "Nooo" of disappointment escaped
my lips, he had lifted me by the hips and set me on
top of the bar. I had to throw my hands out behind me
to hold myself as his hands grabbed my thighs and
moved them apart, his mouth replacing his fingers as
he drove his head between my legs. First his tongue
entered me just like his fingers had, and for a few
seconds it worked in and out of me, his tongue firm
yet soft, so good. Then he was licking up and down the
length of my sex, parting my lips with his tongue,
slurping my wetness, his tongue wide and firm as it
went up and back over my clit with each of the
movement s of his head.
The man gave incredible head (or I was so hot it just
seemed incredible, hard to know which, though I think
both were true). Now his finger was entering me again,
finger fucking me in rhythm with his tongue that was
now concentrated over my clit, firm but not too hard,
short rubs timed with the long finger strokes. Somehow
my legs had moved over his shoulders, my feet dangling
down his back. I realized I still had my shoes on like
some porn actress, but that thought only made me
hotter.
Now I was hearing words, words from my mouth if not
really from my conscious brain, and I got louder and
louder in telling him how wonderfully he was working
me. He reached around me, one large had pushing under
my ass, I rocked one way, then the other to help him
his hand under my ass. With his one hand lifted my ass
off the bar, his shoulders held my legs and he pushed
his face tighter against my pussy, his finger fucking
me faster and faster, his tongue faster and harder
against my clit until AHHHHHH FUCK YES my whole body
spasmed, tightened and spasmed again, then the process
again, and again, as my first orgasm rocked me.
I was mumbling incoherently I'm sure, trying to
express to Eric my pleasure, my thanks, my total
surrender to him, but I think it just came out as a
series of dirty words and meaningless sounds.
Somehow (I think after when I grabbed his hair and
pulled his face tight between my legs but before he
lifted me up off the bar and proved he was a master at
giving head) Eric had removed his shirt. As I
recovered a bit we went back to kissing and fondling.
I grabbed his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his
waist again and scooted off into his arms. He turned
and carried me across the room to a couch.
I expected the ottoman, but as soon as he sat me down
gently on the couch, I pushed off to my knees and
kissed his stomach as my hands explored the front of
his slacks. For the first time I felt his cock, and
knew immediately I wanted more than just to feel it
through his pants. It was running down his right leg,
and it was much longer than my hand was wide. I could
feel that he was circumcised, the head prominent when
my hand reached it. I added my second hand, just to
check it again. I can just about cover Alan's cock
with my two hands, and I've measured that before to be
about 6 ½ inches. Eric was longer, though not a lot,
but felt thicker and hell, he wasn't fully hard yet.
I worked at his belt and closure and button and then
finally the zipper, all the time rubbing that cock I
couldn't wait to see, even kissing it and sucking it a
bit through his pants. As his pants dropped, he
stepped back away from me a bit to bend and take off
his shoes and socks and step out his pants. I can best
describe the sound of my reaction at his temporary
absence as the whining of a hungry kitten. He stood
there a couple of feet from me, hands on the waistband
of his boxers and asked, with a grin, "Shall I?"
"Oh no," I blurted out, "my job." I crawled forward on
my knees to again explore his cock with my eyes,
hands, mouth and tongue, this time just through his
boxers. I reached up one pants leg and for the first
time felt Eric with my hand. I could feel its heat,
almost feeling the blood flowing with each of his
heartbeats, and after only a few strokes I grabbed for
his shorts and pulled them down. His cock bounced up
before me and I almost giggled. It was beautiful.
I have seen larger ones, in porno and this one guy in
college (never even told Alan that story), but Eric's
cock was perfection. I just stared at it for a few
seconds. It was large, it was full and thick, it was a
nice pinkish tan, the veins were prominent but not
freakishly so, it arched up and away from his body
nicely, with a slight upward curve, and the head was
large and slightly purple and in proper proportion
and I never wanted a cock more.
I put both hands on it and grasped it lightly but
firmly. Someone once told me to hold it like a little
bird, not so tight that you hurt it but not so loose
that it can get away. I began to stroke, with both
hands at first, just short movements up and down. Then
I ran both hands all the way up the shaft and over the
head until Eric's cock slid out and I watched as it
dropped a fraction and bounced back. I repeated in
reverse, one hand after the other starting at the head
and running down the length of his beautiful manhood.
Then I lifted it up against his stomach, and leaning
forward I first ran my tongue up and down the
underside. Then I ran my lips up and down it, sucking
a bit as I did. My other cupped his balls, large and
heavy and full, I could feel them constrict against
pulling against his body some and at the same time I
could feel his cock expand even more, filling and
thickening and lengthening. What a great dick!
I lifted up on my knees a bit higher, my right hand
holding his cock, my left around his waist cupping his
ass cheek and I positioned his cock and my mouth,
kissing the head first, then parting my lips and for
the first time in many, many years felt another man's
cock on my lips, entering my mouth, sliding over my
tongue, filling my mouth completely yummy! Slowly I
lowered my mouth around my prize, sucking a bit,
running my tongue up under it. Then back up, repeating
the process in reverse, very slowly, savoring the
feel, the taste, the moment.
I started to bob up and down on Eric's cock, lost in
the fun of giving a man pleasure, of enjoying a
wonderful cock, of being naughty and sexy and hot and
lustful and a cocksucker. I started moaning, the sound
muffled with my mouth mostly full. I was rewarded with
Eric's answering moan, and a slight wobble in his
legs. I quickened and shortened my mouth strokes,
concentrating on the end of his cock and the head,
increasing my suction, my hand pumping his shaft in
unison with my mouth. It had been so long since I had
given a blowjob to a man.
Oh yes, I'd sucked Alan's cock many times, but that
was only briefly as part of foreplay. Sucking a cock
for the sheer joy of sucking a cock giving a blowjob
because you want his dick going down on a man to
make him putty in your hands I hadn't done that in
years. I was enjoying it as much as I hope Eric was. I
was getting more and more into it, really working his
beautiful organ, trying to show him how much I wanted
it, how much I loved it, returning the favor for what
his mouth had done to me.
I was lost in these thoughts, wantonly and lustily
sucking Eric's cock when pushed me away by my forehead
and pulled back his hips, taking my prize away from my
happy mouth. He grabbed me under my arms and lifted me
a bit, and stepping forward he half pushed and half
laid me onto my back on the carpet. He dropped to his
knees between my legs, grabbed me behind my calves and
raised my legs up and placed them against his
shoulders. He then leaned forward, his hands on the
carpet beside my head, his upper body hovering
supported above mine.
He pushed his hips forward and I felt his hard cock
slide up my wetness. I instinctively arched my hips to
give him a better angle, but he just started rubbing
his cock up and down my sopping pussy. Damn him for
teasing me, I thought, and reached down and grabbed
his cock, pulling it down and trying to position it
against me.
He froze there. I looked up and he was looking at me
with a self-satisfied grin. "I've wanted this since I
first saw you years ago, Dawn, "he said. "I want to
remember this minute. I want to be sure you want this
as much as I do."
This was not the time for tenderness, though I
appreciated his gentlemanly ways. "Fuck me, Eric. Fuck
me damn you, don't tease me, fuck me now!" was my
response.
With only a slight hesitation, he began to push his
beautiful cock into me, my hand still guiding him. As
he parted my lips and I felt myself begin to dilate to
accept him, felt the fullness, my hand fell away, I
bit on my bottom lip as my head rolled back, and I
screamed out a silent, "YESSSS!" He pushed and though
I was willing myself to remember every sensation I was
also lost in a fog of desire, my higher brain
functions were shut down, the primal urges front and
center. I do remember our bodies pressed together,
Eric all the way inside me for the first time, not
moving but just holding our position, completely
coupled.
I looked into his eyes and he looked back down into
mine. I wondered if he was just savoring the moment of
victory, another woman, another married woman, and
another clueless husband, conquered. Or if he really
had wanted me so long that he was just reflecting on
that that. I didn't care, I needed to be fucked, and
fucked well.
Or was it him just enjoying the moment, because as he
slowly pulled most of the way out I heard a sigh of
contentment pass his lips just before he started to
push back in, and then back out, and ... he picked up
his pace, long slow, rhythmic strokes. I rotated my
hips to accept more of his wonderful, long cock
strokes. For the second time that night, my legs were
over his shoulders, this time it was his cock that he
drove into me with his full force now. We both were
uttering sounds that were half words (dirty words,
mostly) and half animal sounds.
I was lost in total sexual bliss for at least eight or
ten minutes of heavenly fucking when he suddenly
pulled out and rising to his knees rolled me over (I
kicked him in the head as my leg went over, but he
didn't seem to care) and lifting me under the arms as
he rose to his feet carried me a few steps to the
ottoman THE ottoman and laid me chest down on top
of it. If I had been honest with myself that night,
this is probably the vision I had the first time I
came into this room and tried to peek under the
ottoman.
Eric was on his knees behind me, obviously he had
discovered long ago that this particular piece of his
furniture was just the right height for him to repeat
this act, repeat it tonight for what I assumed was the
twenty-seventh time. I could feel him behind me and
didn't want any more time to pass before he was back
inside me. I reached back between my legs to help
guide him, but I didn't need to as I felt his cock
find my entrance, ease in just a bit, and then with
his hands on my hips, slam into me. He held my hips
and fucked me fast and hard, no lovemaking now, this
was fucking.
I reached out and grabbed the sides of the ottoman and
held on for the ride, the incredible, sexy, hot,
noisy, wet, wonderful ride. I had no other thought
than the pleasure I was feeling, my entire universe
reduced to the sensations in my pussy, in my soul. But
suddenly he stopped, and as I tried to come in from
the fog I felt myself being lifted again, then Eric
was on his back across the ottoman. I wasn't thinking
but I was aware of this incredible hard cock
glistening against his stomach as I put my knees onto
the ottoman on both sides of his legs and scooted up
until I was over it IT.
I reached down and grasped his cock and positioned it
and myself as I slid it in and me down and I almost
passed out from the pleasure and joy of feeling it
spread me open, sliding against the walls of my...
sighs, whimpers, moans, dirty talk all combined as I
rode him. I leaned forward, leaned back, ground
against him, bounced on him, alternating from one
movement to another, enjoying all the possibilities of
our position. All were equally wonderful. But as I
felt my muscles tightening and my mind cloud over, I
sat straight above him and pressed into him with all
my strength.
His cock was as deep as I've ever felt any and I
didn't want it to move as I made the smallest
movements I could, my clit pressing against his tight
lower abdominals. He reached up and pinched both of my
nipples, lightly at first, and then harder as my mouth
opened silently and my second orgasm of the night
ripped through my body. I know my mouth was wide open,
but for the next few seconds not a sound escaped my
mouth. Then as my orgasm built and rolled through me,
it was a moan, then a louder moan and then a scream.
Just as I was sliding down the backside of my release,
my eyes opening and head lowering to look down at
Eric, he grabbed my hips and lifted me off, and in a
move that seemed seamless and instantaneous, had me on
my front across the ottoman. He was behind me again,
this time his hand on the back of my neck holding me
against the cushioned top of the ottoman as he entered
me from behind again, no easing into me this time.
He fucked me fast, hard and deep in that position for
either a second, a minute or an hour, I don't know, I
just remember his guttural sounds as he slammed into
me one last time, holding himself there and cumming in
an almost violent climax. I grinned, for even in my
sexual fog I was proud that I had done that to him.
He collapsed on my back and we lay there for a couple
of minutes, him stroking my neck and shoulders some,
me reaching back to run my hand up and down the
outside of his thigh. He rolled off of me and reaching
over grabbed a couple of pillows and a throw off of
the couch and pulled me to him on the floor. We lay
there wordlessly spooning in the afterglow. I begin to
feel a bit self-conscious, not for where I was, who I
was with or what we'd done, but because I still had my
damn shoes on. I pulled up one leg then the other to
unbuckle them and kick them off when Eric spoke the
first full sentence of the last half hour.
"Incredible, you know that don't you? You are
incredible."
I blushed a bit I'm sure, but said something about
team work and we teased a bit back and forth, as if we
were long experience lovers who knew each other well.
I rolled over to face him and he kissed me on the nose
and on the forehead and I stroked his chest. Then he
kissed me lightly on the mouth, but when neither of us
broke the kiss it intensified. I ran my hand down this
body until I grasped his cock in my hand. It was
neither completely soft nor as hard as it had been,
but it felt wonderful to me and I couldn't resist
stroking and pumping it some. It begin to grow as our
breathing quickened, Eric now returning the favor with
his hand between my legs, rubbing me with the side of
his thumb and hand.
We kissed more and his hand turned, his middle finger
entering me as he fingered me and rubbed me just as I
liked it. His cock was back to its full glory in my
hand. He kissed his way down my neck to my breasts and
whispered "Such beautiful tits." This just made me
pump him faster. He kissed his way back up my chest
and neck to my ear when I heard him whisper, "Ready to
earn the gold star now?"
I froze. There was no doubt I had wanted everything
that had happened up to now, had loved everything that
had happened up to now. But I was wondering if I was
really ready for what my big mouth had gotten me into.
Eric rolled to his hands and knees and crawled over to
the end table between the couch and his chair. His
butt was so damn cute from that angle, but when he
opened the drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube and
a condom, and turned back to me with his wonderful
cock at full staff, cute was the last thing on my
mind.
He crawled back over and joined me under the throw,
back to kissing and fondling and stroking. My hand
made its way back to his cock and we kissed deeply and
passionately. While we were kissing I could feel him
moving about, his hands doing something. I heard the
condom wrapper and knew what was happening (I would
have done that for him). Then I heard the squeeze of
the plastic bottle and his hand was back between my
legs, his palm rubbing me wonderfully, but his finger
didn't take its former place. His hand ran down my
more and I felt his finger probing at my anal opening,
finding its mark and pushing firmly but slowly.
No panic. Alan's fingers have been up my ass many
times, almost always a welcome experience. But this
was different, but I didn't resist. He begin to push
ever deeper into me, until most of his lubricated
middle finger was inside me. Out it came slowly, then
back. Kissing me all the while.
Eric rolled me to my back and broke our kiss to grab
for the lube with his free hand. His head lowered to
my chest and he begin to administer to my breasts
again, his mouth, lips, tongue and teeth alternating
between pleasure-giving actions. I felt him squirt
more lube onto his hand and my ass while he was
fingering me back there. Then I felt a second finger
pushing in with the first and OHHHHH I had to will
myself not to tense up. His mouth brought my focus
back on the sensations exciting my nipples. I put
myself in his hands, literally and figuratively, as my
head rolled back, lost in lust again
.
He worked my ass with both fingers as one larger
intruder, and the feeling was even better than one
finger had been. I realized for the first time that I
was right to think I might enjoy what I was sure was
about to happen. Losing my anal virginity was going to
be better and more exciting than losing my virginity
had been so many years before.
He lifted me and placed me on my back on the ottoman.
I had to kick the throw off my left foot where it had
hung up. His fingers returned briefly to re-enter my
ass while he squirted more lube. He also squirted the
lube on his now condom covered cock. Removing his
fingers Eric moved above me, his cock probing where
his fingers had been just seconds before. He reached
his arms under my legs, lifting, as his hips pushed
forward. "Put me in you, put me in your ass, Dawn.
Earn that gold star Baby."
I reached down and grasped him and helped line him up.
He pressed and at first it was just a pressure I felt,
then a fullness, then the first bit of pain. I
squealed a bit and he hesitated, then pressed into me
more, then paused again. I was fighting the mixed
feeling, trying to make myself relax but my heart was
pumping. An image flashed in my brain, Susan George in
the original "Straw Dogs." So fitting, wanting
something you know you shouldn't want, but giving into
your desires with a strong man above you. So in my
best imitation, I looked up and Eric and whispered,
"Easy, eeeeasy." He pushed forward slowly and I was
able to relax and accept him and before I knew I had
taken his whole beautiful cock in my ass.
He began a slow in and out pumping. Straight in and
straight out, slowly at first, then speeding up. He
pushed my legs further back and up until for the third
time that night I had them on his shoulders. Now his
movements quickened and there was no doubt, I was
being fucked in the ass and I loved it. Eric moved
one hand around my leg until he could use his thumb to
flick my clitoris in timing with his thrusts. My hand
went to his, unconsciously guiding him to give me
maximum pleasure. He pulled his hand out from under
mine and put it back on top of mine, reversing our
positions. He guided my hand over my pussy and I took
the suggestions, my fingers replacing his thumb as I
masturbated myself for him who am I kidding, I did
it for me.
Several delightful minutes later I was rapidly
building to my third orgasm of the night. I have never
been very demure, but all semblance of conservative
lady-like demeanor left me. I was in heat, in lust,
being ass fucked and masturbating and loving it all.
"Fuck me, fuck my ass, do it to me. Damn yes, fuckin'
do it so good Baby, do me..." and more. Eric matched
me dirty word for dirty word, command for command,
until I raised my head and chest off the ottoman and
with one final "Fuuuccckkkk!" felt my third orgasm of
the night explode within me. I fell back, my legs
kicking and quivering as the sensations peaked and
rolled over the top, only to quickly rise to the peak
again and roll over, and then rise ... and for at
least forty-five seconds one of the most intense
orgasms of my life took over every part of me.
As I finally went limp beneath him, Eric let go of my
legs. He pulled out quickly, yanked the condom off of
his cock and moved up to straddle my chest on the
ottoman. He grabbed both my breasts and pulled them
together, capturing his cock between them. He began to
pump, and I was fascinated by my view of his cock
working between my breasts, almost hitting my chin and
then almost disappearing from view.
I was so spent I couldn't do much, thought about
trying to open my mouth and catch his cock with each
thrust. Thought about taking over for his hands,
holding my breasts together for him. Thought about
several things, but before doing any of them, Eric
released my breasts and stopped his thrusts. Kneeling
upright above me he grabbed his own cock and working
it with his own fist he leaned forward a little bit
and cum exploded out of his cock, hitting me in the
chest, on my neck, on my chin, on my breasts, some
onto my face.
He groaned and made a noise like a movie pirate as
stream after stream of his ejaculate shot from his
cock, splashing over me. Then it was done, and like
the immediate aftermath of a car accident, there was
total silence for a split second.
Then with a single "Goddamn," Eric collapsed on the
ottoman beside me, his hand over my waist. We lay
there panting and not talking for at least a minute
before I turned my head towards him. We both tried to
speak at once, and both laughed at the situation. I
spoke next, and I don't know why this was what I said,
but I knew I meant it. "Don't say a word, Lover. Yes
it was wonderful. Yes it was all I expected. Just get
the pen, will you." And I rolled off of the ottoman
and headed towards the basement half-bath.
I had trouble walking at first, and had trouble
walking later as well. But I washed my face, and
cleaned my chin, neck and breasts as best I could.
Luckily there were a couple of washcloths and hand
towels, I had several parts of my body that needed
attention. I wasn't embarrassed or regretful, but I
also knew I didn't really want to be there much
longer. As I came out of the bath, Eric had turned the
ottoman up on its side and had the gold paint pen.
"Want to do the honors?" he asked. I told him no, it
was his ottoman, I didn't have to put the star there
to know I'd put the star there.
He went to work quickly with the pen, and as I was
bending over to pick up my bra and panties I felt his
arm go around my thighs and something on my left ass
cheek. I jumped, but not before he had drawn an
outline 5-point star on my ass with gold paint pen. I
didn't know whether to slap him, to laugh, to ignore
him, or to throw him down and try to get that cock of
his hard one more time. In the end I just laughed and
gathered my clothes, only putting on my dress and
carrying the rest toward the stairs.
"I was hoping you'd spend the night, Dawn," he said. "
I'd love to wake up in the middle of the night and
find you beside me."
"Tempting, but not going to happen, Eric. I loved
every minute of this, but it is a onetime deal, Lover.
No encores. Besides, my Daddy always told me to quit
when you're ahead, and I'm ahead three to two." The
sound of his laughter waned in my ears as I climbed
the stairs and found the garage, the door opener
button and my car and headed home. Dawn, Gold Star
Winner!
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. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 74