This is the second chapter in a story I’ve begun about a married woman finding passion and sex with another married man, who she met thru an internet discreet encounters website. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
My thoughts kept drifting to Dale. From the moment we met in that parking lot almost 2 weeks ago, I couldn’t seem to get him out of my head. More than once during the past days I had found myself thinking of him, imagining us together, and had become aroused. One night, I was so overtaken with thoughts of him, that I lied in bed next to my sleeping husband, listening to him snore, and brought myself to orgasm.
With my eyes closed, I could almost feel his mouth on my skin, kissing softly down my stomach, his tongue licking gently at my skin. My back arched, and tiny gasps escaped my lips, as I slowly opened my thighs. As I slid my fingertips between the lips of my pussy I could feel his tongue there, tasting me, almost inhaling my scent. I opened my lips, tugging at them gently, as I had done hundreds of times before, but this time, it wasn’t my fingers, it was him, and his fingers. Lost in my fantasy I could feel his warm breath on me, blowing gently across the hood of my clit, sending shivers thru my body. I found myself biting my lower lip to stop the moans from escaping my lips that I so desperately needed to release. My hips began to rock in small steady circles as just the tip of my finger pressed inside of my already wet pussy.
I traced my thumb directly over my clit and my hips lifted off of the bed, as if trying to find his mouth. My free hand almost instinctively reached for my left nipple and I rolled it between my thumb and forefinger. As the pressure on my clit increased, so did my fingers on my nipple. I felt my orgasm rising within me, and I began to pinch my nipple harder, just as he had in his car 2 weeks ago.
“Oh god, yes, yes” I cried out.....barely keeping my cries at a whisper. I slid my finger deeply into my pussy, and I could feel the muscles contracting tightly as my orgasm began its release. It wasn’t my finger any longer, it was his tongue, plunging deep inside of me, and I came with such force that my body trembled. I could hear how wet I was as I slid my finger in and out of my pussy, and I needed to taste it. Slowly, as if it were his tongue, I traced my finger up over my stomach, barely touching my skin. I circled it around my left nipple, which was still hard from the steady pinching it had endured. Gently, almost teasingly, I rubbed it over my lower lip, so slow I made myself gasp again. My tongue slipped from between my lips and licked over the tip of it.
Mmm...there it was. That familiar, musky, almost sweet taste of my pussy. It’s not that I hadn’t tasted myself before, it was just..... this time, it was different. It wasn’t my finger in my mouth that I was sucking greedily on, it was his tongue. The tongue that had just brought me to orgasm almost effortlessly. I savored the taste, as if my body had been waiting for him to awaken my desires for years.
For a moment, I felt guilt. Guilt over coming to orgasm imagining another man touching me. I looked over to my husband, still sleeping soundly. I rolled over on my side and brushed my hand over his arm. No reaction. I leaned closer to him, and kissed his cheek softly. Still no reaction. I slid my hand under the comforter and rubbed my fingers gently down his stomach, tracing them over the waistband of the shorts he insisted on sleeping in. His body stirred, and he grumbled deeply under his breath. He opened his eyes and looked at me briefly, then rolled over on his other side, his back to me.
There was the reaction, the one I had become all too familiar with over the years. Sex took place when HE wanted it to. While it had never been a very regular occurrence in our marriage, over the last few years it had seemed to dwindle to about 2 or 3 times a month. I had tried complaining, tried talking, even came to close to begging on more than one occasion. The answers were always the same.
“I’m sorry honey, I'm tired” or....
“What’s wrong with the way things are Lisa?”
The guilt was gone, in that moment. Once more, I had tried, and once more, I had been denied. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I knew that I needed more then he either could, or wanted to give me. I had a right to experience pleasure, to feel passion, and to feel wanted by someone, and I wasn’t going to deny myself this time.
It had been almost 2 weeks since Dale and I had met at that restaurant. During that time, we had talked a couple times on the phone, emailed each other almost every day, and tried to make plans to get together. Things kept coming up, and plans kept getting postponed. I was slowly learning that having an affair was not an easy thing, but I knew the effort it was taking would be worth it, and I refused to give up hope.
It was a sunny, humid Thursday morning, and I was re-arranging all the furniture in the living room, something I seemed to do every couple months. The phone rang, and without even looking at the caller ID, I picked it up, almost out of breath from dragging the couch across the hardwood floors.
“Hello”...I gasped, trying to catch my breath enough to speak. It was him.
“Baby, I want to see you. I NEED to see you. Today. This afternoon.”
I felt the smile beaming across my face instantly. He NEEDED to see me. I had longed to hear those words for so long, and here they were, being spoken to me. I heard myself gasp again, not from moving the furniture, but from hearing the desire in his voice.
“Dale, I need to see you too. I can’t stop thinking about you. Just tell me when.”
“Today, this afternoon, meet me at the same place, 3 pm, can you make it?”
My voice became softer, almost in a trance as I answered him. “I’ll be there Dale, I need to be with you.”
We said our goodbyes, and I quickly finished moving the furniture around. I ran a bubble bath, deciding I needed to take some time and relax. Even though this was something I wanted, something I knew I needed, I was nervous. I felt so much for this man, and seeing him again was intoxicating for me. I wasn’t feeling any guilt over my thoughts for him at this moment, only desire.
I decided to dress casually, but with much thought. I chose another sheer bra. The one I had worn in my ad on the website. Sheer white lace, with embroidered pink roses around the cups. I knew my nipples could clearly be seen thru thru the flimsy fabric, and that’s what I wanted. I chose a pair of black sheer panties, string bikinis, that showed my shaved pussy thru them. My body was no where near perfect, but as I looked at myself in the mirror I felt sexy. I tugged on jeans, and a navy blue blouse that zipped up the front. It wasn’t low cut, but the zipper reached just above the cleavage of my 38c breasts, and when I leaned forward, you could see the outline of my bustline.
