Diary Of A Sunday Morning

I woke up feeling very wet after having intensely sexual dreams about my married lover, Kris. The kids were playing in the next room, and I knew my husband was playing on the computer. I debated about getting out my vibrator as I sometimes do on lazy weekend mornings, but was afraid the noise would attract attention. Instead, I let my fingers wander down between my thighs, one knee drawn up to facilitate access.

As my fingers found their way in, my suspicions were confirmed. I was dripping wet. I started to rub my clit with my wet fingers and it felt soooo good. I knew I'd have to pace myself if I wanted to last very long.

Just then, the door opened and he walked in. I lay there, the sheet covering me, hiding my secret wetness and desire from him. He lay next to me, and I decided it would be much more satisfying if I could come with his cock inside me. So I decided to use him for his cock and the pleasure I was craving. "I want you," I whispered. "Now."

He put a movie on for the kids and returned to the bedroom. He lay back down next to me and began to finger me, sucking gently on a nipple. I arched against his hand, not wanting to be patient. I knew what I wanted, and I was ready for it. This was not the time for foreplay. I suggested that perhaps he just put on his raincoat and play in the rain, rather than dilly-dallying around. He seemed surprised, but complied, pulling a Magnum out of the nightstand drawer.

He lay on top of me, thrusting slowly, only entering me part-way. I grabbed his hips and pushed him all the way in, spreading my legs to take him in as deep as possible. He thrust deeply for a moment, then stopped. Hip cramp, he explained. I suggested that we try a different position. I would ride him for awhile to let his hip rest, provided that we finished with him taking me from behind. He wanted to know why, which surprised me. He knows that's one of my favorite positions to cum in. I reminded him of that, and he wanted to know what made it so much better. In my mind, I was thinking well, because I don't want to be fucking you right now, and it's much easier for me to fantasize that Kris is driving his cock into me if I don't have to see your face grimaced above me.

Instead, I said it's because you hit all the right spots and you can go so much deeper, making my orgasm so much more intense. (Not a lie, mind you, but not the real reason today.) He agreed, so I rode him for awhile, my hips rocking as I leaned over him to provide him access to my breasts. However, our lovemaking was, as he put it, coitus interruptus, as the children kept trying to break into the bedroom. We had to stop several times for me to quickly sort out disputes over toys and kiss a few booboos.

We knew we needed to hurry up because the children were restless and not particularly cooperative. He entered me from behind and handed me my vibrator.

As he began to thrust, pulling my hips back against him, I turned on the vibrator, holding it against my clit. Immediately I raced up the hill toward orgasm. I closed my eyes, imagining that Kris had bent me over the back of his couch, forcing his cock into me as I begged for more.

I was pleading in my head for him to just let me come when he changed his thrusts. They became very slow, very measured. All the way in, all the way out. THIS was what I wanted. THIS was the sure-fire way to get me off. The waves of pleasure were coming so fast all I could do was just ride them as they came, not thinking, not caring, just feeling.

Oh god, I'm going to come, I moaned. Don't stop. Please don't stop. I knew if he stopped I'd die. I had to come. I needed to come. I'd do anything if I could just come. He continued his slow, measured strokes. I could feel every ridge, every vein, the gradual thickening of his cock from head to base.

I started to come, and all I could do was moan. He continued his slow thrusting while the waves of orgasm overtook me. When my orgasm subsided, he allowed me to catch my breath. I turned off the vibrator without even thinking about it. He backed away so I could slowly slide face-down on the bed, my knees trembling, pushing my vibrator onto the floor.

Roll over, I need to finish, he said. I rolled over, wishing he'd just finish himself with his hand while I drifted off to sleep. He stood at the end of the bed and grabbed my legs, pulling me to the edge. He raised my legs up over his arms as he knelt on the edge of the bed between my thighs. He rammed his cock in with one swift thrust. Although I was tired and overly sensitive, it still felt good. He asked me to talk to him, and I knew he wanted me to tell him how good it felt, how big he was, how much I wanted him, but I couldn't. This morning, I couldn't pretend anymore.

It didn't take him long to finish, and as soon as he withdrew, I got up and went into the bathroom, feeling guilty for having used my husband for my pleasure without caring about his. I quickly showered, wanting to wash his sweat off of me as though the act of washing would cleanse me of my impure thoughts and desires.