By the time of the Christmas Party liaison there was no question about the intensity of ardor in our relationship. Dorothy wanted to be with me whenever possible, and I wanted to be with her constantly. Neither was possible, of course. And whenever we were together, our appetites for each other seemed insatiable. The satisfaction of our hungers was possible sometimes but not always. We learned to accept the situation because each of us had been raised in a relatively puritanical family culture. Divorce as a solution, for instance, never arose as a topic in our conversations about our mutual problem and frustrations.
But we did become more inventive in our schemes to find private time together. And perhaps the growing coolness or disinterest of our spouses relaxed both their watchfulness and our sense of duty. Probably we both continued to feel the pain of infidelity, but ... maybe ... not quite as much. I suppose the subconscious excuse being 'they weren't paying as much attention, ergo they really didn't care as much'. Whatever.
As a result we occasionally contrived fictitious after-work meetings or outings with co-workers and arrived home later than usual without causing a higher than tolerable level of familial discomfort. We rarely missed one of those 'special Saturdays' at the drug store when the peculiarity of shifts of hired help chained Dorothy's husband to the store.
Those Saturdays continued to be the best of our private times. They were intimate, sometimes playful, and usually rapturous (There was inevitably a dud once in a while, of course. Nothing is perfect continuously.) Those Saturdays were far better for the nurturing of our relationship than our occasional trysts in Dorothy's car; but usually not quite as exciting. There is something unique about making love in a semi-exposed place. Especially a car.
Each of us secretly kept dreaming of that mythical "weekend". Once, in late winter, Dorothy's husband took part of a Saturday and Sunday off to go ice fishing with his jock pals. Dorothy hoped we could work that into something special, but Constance had accepted a dinner invitation for Saturday night. So it goes! We got a few hours together on that Saturday but not our dream weekend. Late in spring Constance asked if I minded if she visited for a week with her travel chum from premarital days. Her friend lived two or three hours north of us and Constance' mother had agreed to let her borrow their second car for the trip. I said I thought it would be nice for her to have some time away, of course. (Actually, I did think it would be nice for her.) She planned to leave on the Friday morning to avoid weekend traffic.
When I told Dorothy about Constance' plans she became so excited about the possibilities that she took her hand away from the front of my trousers where she had begun fiddling. We had met just a few minutes earlier in our old unfinished subdivision, and were in the midst of our affectionate greetings after a typical work day. After a few testing kisses to measure what kind of mood we each were in, I had broken the news into her ear while nuzzling her neck and stroking her very feminine curve of hip.
"Darling!" she enthused, "How much time can we spend together?" She broke away from my nuzzling and looked at me with glistening eyes wide in disbelief.
"Theoretically, you gorgeous creature, I can spend the whole week with you!" was my happy and hopeful reply.
She was quiet for a few moments, puzzling through this unexpected development. Then, "Should we try for our fantasy weekend?" Her smile was now guarded and her eyes still bright, but questioning.
"I want to be with you as much as possible. A lot depends on what you can work out." It was true; I likely could take a few vacation days, go out of town, or be away for an extended weekend -and find excuses for not being home if Constance should call. The unspoken implication was that we were limited to what was possible for Dorothy - both at home and at work.
"Oh, Alex! I want to be with you - for days on end. Let me think about it. I don't think work will be a problem if I want to take some time off. But, I'd like us to be able to be together longer than just part of a day here and there. Let me see what I can work out. When is she going?"
"A week from Friday."
The rest of that evening's short tryst was less passionate than it otherwise might have been. With guarded eagerness we explored the possibilities and weighed alternative ideas. I think lust took a momentary back seat while we enthusiastically reveled in the rare opportunity to 'make plans'.
On the phone the next day Dorothy said she had told Jim (her husband) that she wanted to spend a few days visiting a friend in a city a few hours away (somehow a familiar story?). She said he was receptive and thought maybe he could arrange an outing with a couple of his pals for some trout fishing up north. There were possibilities!
When we met a couple of days later the news was good. He and his pals were going up north for four days. They would leave Friday and get back late Monday. He somehow found a part time pharmacist to take care of the store. Dorothy and I excitedly confirmed our fantasy weekend. We would stay at an old inn on a lake an hour out of town. I made reservations the next day while at work.
At a little after noon on the 'red letter' Friday Constance called me at work just before she left the house. I wished her bon voyage and told her to have a nice time. A short time later I called Dorothy, a rare occurrence, to let her know I was on my way and went home to pack. I seldom called her at work because someone else usually answered the phone. She called me at home an hour later to say she was packed and ready to leave. We agreed to meet at the metro airport in a half hour. We decided that was a better place to leave my car than in a shopping mall parking lot where something unfortunate might happen to it during the three days.
I parked my car and Dorothy picked me up in front of the terminal -right on time. I put my bag in the trunk. She had moved over to the passenger seat - she apparently wanted me to drive - so I got in the driver's side. She slid over to me before I had reached for the seat belt and we hugged and kissed before we even said "Hi". "You look wonderful," I said. "I can't think of anything I'd rather do than spend the next three days with the most beautiful and exciting person in my world! Do you happen to be free, Fair Maid? I've arranged a lovely place on a lake."
"Free? Darling, I feel more free than I can ever remember! Take me to the lake, my Gallant Knight! But first, I need a little more kissing." Our arms encircled each other more snugly and our lips and mouths embraced with affection - and the beginnings of rich sensuality when, after a few moments a bit of lust began creeping into the affection.
We reluctantly broke apart and I groaned, "If I don't get us on our way, we'll cause a scene at the airport and never get to the lake!" I buckled up and drove out to the highway. By nature I'm an aggressive driver, but now there was no hurry. We were together and enjoying each other, so I drove conservatively and paid more attention to my Fair Maid than the traffic. Dorothy snuggled next to me and we chatted about our good fortune, the timing of our coming and going, and the likelihood of our spouses calling us at home. We each had been to the inn before but only for dinner with spouse and friends. It was a quaint and charming place. We were anxious to see what the accommodations were like.
I confessed, "I feel quite adventurous. I've never been this bold! It's wonderful! And the idea of spending a mini-vacation with my Fair Maid and Love is more than I would have dreamed. I didn't bet the family farm on our fantasy weekend ever becoming reality."
We were holding hands in her lap while I drove with one hand at a leisurely speed. Dorothy nudged her cheek against my shoulder and reached up to kiss my neck. "I didn't either," she sighed, "and now I'm feeling excited ... and cuddly." Her other hand was hugging my arm and she pressed it against her breast to punctuate her excitement. "How long before we get there?"
"Oh, forty-five minutes or so."
She squeezed my hand in her lap and hugged it between her legs as she snuggled her head against my shoulder. Then she parted her legs a little. Her skirt was shorter than any I had seen her wear. When she sat it rose naturally to reveal the darker shade of the tops of her nylons, and when she slid over to snuggle she had let it ride even higher to tease me with a garter and a glimpse of the alabaster skin of her perfect thighs. My hand caressed further up her leg, felt around the garter, and finally beneath the hem of her skirt to feel the smooth warmth of her naked, upper thigh and nudge her loving place. Her panties were 'missing'.
"I changed when I got home," she breathily explained in my ear, "but mostly ... I undressed." Her voice had become lusty and compelling. Her hand was moving over my thigh toward the front of my trousers where I was quickly beginning to bulge. "I didn't pack any panties, Sweetheart. I hope you don't mind. ... I didn't bring any bras either. And I have a dress with a low scoop neckline and an even shorter skirt to wear for dinner and dancing. You'll have to stay close to me so no one can see up my ... or down my ... so they can't see anything. You'll have to protect me, Lover." She kissed my cheek at the side of my mouth and gently grasped my erection through my trousers.
I was privately enthusiastic about her wardrobe - who wouldn't be? But I also was surprised, because Dorothy, by upbringing and nature, was a conservative dresser. Hmmm, we each were evolving.
Traffic was light as we got further from town. I turned to kiss her briefly. "I'll be honored to protect you from the wandering eyes of strangers, Sweetheart. But I'm very weak when it comes to your charms - I'm going to have a tent in my trousers - a lot - because I'll be drinking in your loveliness at every opportunity - just as I am now. Your legs are absolutely stunning and I'm looking at them hugging my hand between your kissable thighs."
"Uuhhmmm, I know. That's why my skirt is where it is. I like to let you look ... and feel ... and kiss. I like it when you're stiff and hungry for me" She put her hand over mine, opened her thighs more widely, guided my fingers to her vagina and pushed her clitoris against my palm. She whispered in my ear, "I'll stay close to you ... to hide your tent." She gave me a squeeze, "And sometimes I'll hide it inside me." She hummed.
My driving slowed even more to make up for the distractions. Dorothy's thighs were soft and warm and her avid love lips were moist and expectant. I teased her vagina with first one and then two fingers and then withdrew them to slide up to her clitoris. I repeated the caress several times until she impulsively opened her legs even further and hummed a pleasant moan and sighed, "Mmmmmm, Honey, my clit is tingling."
I hummed, "Mmmmm, it's poking out so sweetly ..." Dorothy's clitoris was very sexy and very large. Normally it reposed nearly unseen in it's protective hood, but when we were loving each other it became stiff and engorged to protrude remarkably over a quarter inch - not unlike the head of a tiny penis.
She kissed my lobe and whispered in my ear, "I know ... I can feel it nudging your fingers ... I'm so cuddly and ... you know ..."
