We lay together, her long straight hair, a golden curtain shimmering in the sunlight, splayed across my chest, both of us naked and panting. She rested her head against me, the musky scent of sex and our passion permeating the air, our sheets damp and cooling as we lay in a puddle of her juices and my jizz, holding each other in the afterglow of our latest lovemaking. She assured me each time this was the best sex she had enjoyed her whole life, and it was for me, too.
Husband and wife.
Not her husband, and not my wife.
Gretchen and I had met earlier in the year over a fit of jealous rage, when she had come within moments of shooting me, threatening to do the same to herself right after. She'd come home early, unexpectedly, catching my wife Amanda in bed with her husband Walter, furiously fucking. Amanda had lusted after him for a couple of decades, and got my agreement to let her sleep with him for a single weekend, to get him out of her system, admitting him eagerly into her pussy and mouth. I discovered that afternoon that he was married, and didn't know whether she knew, or cared.
His wife Gretchen had nearly walked in on them, instead peeking through the bedroom door, left thoughtfully ajar. They were rutting away doggy-style, moaning and cumming on their matrimonial bed. Gretchen had taken her pistol, gotten our address from Amanda's purse, and come to exact revenge by way of a murder-suicide. To punish both of
them
. It was a poor plan from the start.
She couldn't do it, and we ended up talking things out, then taking our revenge a different way, in each other's arms, fucking and sucking all weekend, reveling in the loving touch of a stranger. Now, each time Amanda disappeared to visit Walter, Gretchen flew into my arms and bed, both of us taking advantage of the opportunity our faithless spouses afforded us. The second time was nearly two months later, and was frankly just as incredible as the first time. It was now more than three months since our first time, and not coincidentally
their
first time.
Gretchen's eyes were closed, almost drowsing next to me, a satisfied and gentle smile plastered on her sensuous lips. "Mmm. Love this... Penny for your thoughts, Doug..." She stretched in a very feline fashion and turned towards me, one leg sliding over mine, her fragrance thick in my nostrils, her body warm and silky against mine.
I paused only a moment. "How badly would it frighten you off if I said I love you?"
She pulled herself in closer and kissed the middle of my chest. "About as much as it would you if I said the same thing." She grinned up at me. "So, you first?," she taunted.
"Okay. I love you, Gretchen."
She gave a delighted chuckle. "You better! If you didn't it would make all this fucking really tawdry. Disreputable. Even though our significant others are fucking away in my house." She said it with a cheerfulness I knew was deceptive, at least in her own heart.
"So, what about you, Gretchen...?" I held her close, feeling the length of her body, warm and soft, still wet where I had filled her up, sticky between her tits when my cumshot had dribbled down her chin earlier and was now dried to a shiny patch. Gretchen had let it cool and stiffen on her skin, a shiny badge of...not honor, but something equally important, I was certain. My lips met hers in the kind of long, slow kisses that often come before sex, and she smiled.
When I had first seen her, I had the strong impression she had been a stranger to happiness, or maybe only a passing acquaintance. Since our trysts, matching those of my wife and her husband, we found ourselves happier than we'd ever been with anyone, much less them. "Well, you're a great listener, very easy on the eyes, and your dick feels good anywhere you stick it. I guess I
am
in love with you, Dougie!"
A few minutes later, we were in the shower, my cock hardening as the gorgeous blonde pressed her soapy body against mine. Our kisses were passionate, and passion had certainly been missing from our lives before we met, for years. We rinsed, and I turned the water off. The bathroom was steamy, and I dropped down to my haunches, my mouth at about the right level.
"Put your leg over my shoulder, babe."
Gretchen made a pleased little sound and did so, displaying the blonde pussy I craved as much as she craved my cock inside her. Supporting her with my hands, I palmed her ass, reaching underneath with my thumbs to spread her slit, and started running the tip of my tongue along her slit, tasting the still-present lubrication there. Her bush was matted with water, and I worked to wet it further, sticking my tongue up inside her, thrusting gently, bringing the tip of it forward with each thrust, going slowly, tantalizing her with each motion.
I felt her hands alight on my head, not grabbing my hair, just steadying herself. The air started to cool, the steam settling like dew on our skin. I kept my eyes closed, my mouth and tongue working on her labia and clit and hole, all three the center of my attention this morning. It was Saturday, and we had until Sunday afternoon. We didn't want to waste a minute of it.
Her whispers built up, rhythmic puffs of barely vocalized lust into the tiled stall, glass door firmly shut, hiding nothing in the event my wife came home.
Which would have been perfect.
Amanda's affair, presented initially as a one-weekend fling, had continued. I'd always suspected deep down that one time with her long-time sexual crush wouldn't be enough. Several more weekends had followed, each one prefaced with some variation of, "I hate to ask, and I love you so much," and then she would be gone again.
Each time I relented, and every time Gretchen joined me here, both of us getting what we were lacking in our own marriages. My wife didn't know, but we did, and the sinfulness of sleeping with each other carried its own attractions, not the least of which was that Gretchen was stunningly beautiful, and a virtually untapped font of sexual discovery waiting to be explored, if not actually conquered.
Gretchen's body started shivering, but not from the cooling air. The puffs of sound resolved into one word, over and over. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Each time was louder than the first, and I pictured her with her head back, pressed against the pristine white tile, her back arching and breasts thrusting forward. Now her hands did grip my head, her fingers clutching the curls of my hair, an erotic reflex, pulling me in, claiming me for her own.
A spurt of sweet, hot pussy juices splashed onto my tongue, and she exhaled sharply, then her shout of "Fuck,
baby
!" took over, as she humped my face vigorously, each time expelling a little more of her juices. I swallowed them greedily, then, while she still quivered, kissed quickly up her belly to between her tits, my mouth coming to rest on hers.
She kissed back hard, and we stood there fondling and holding each other.
"God, Dougie! What came over you?"
"I just felt like I had to do something to thank you for this morning's blowjob..."
"You keep thanking me like that, I can look forward to a lot more cum swallowing!" She inhaled, then giggled. "God, we just fucking showered, and we both smell like my pussy!"
"Maybe it took long enough that we have more hot water?"
I was right. There was plenty, and this time we emerged clean and dried off with barely any orgasms.
********
Gretchen reclined against me on the couch, her ass between my legs and her back against my chest. My arms were around her midriff, and her hair was still damp with the shampoo we'd used. Her sigh was a thing of beauty, her chest inflating, pushing her breasts up and forward before exhaling.
I kissed her temple. "Just another lazy Saturday afternoon..."
"With the best lover I've ever had."
She turned to look at me, and I gave her a startled look, and she giggled. "You too?," I asked in mock astonishment.
Gretchen settled back into me. "Oh, yes, you too, my love. You too."
We just lay back for a while, the small of my back against the overstuffed armrest. It was odd to realize Amanda and I had never fucked on the couch, even though that was one of the reasons she used to persuade me to buy it for the house. Walter's wife and I were putting it to excellent use now, though, and spent at least one session there every weekend we were together.
The sun had hit its apex a little earlier, and Gretchen turned in my arms, her breasts against my chest now. "I have an idea for something different, baby..." Every time she called me that, or any of the other sweet endearments we now traded, I felt even closer to her.
My interest was immediately piqued. "Tell me."
Gretchen moved further up my body, her skin soft against mine as she did so, until her lips grazed mine, a promise of things to come. "I was reading..." She stopped. "I have to ask you..."
"Anything, my love."
Her cheeks colored with desire. "So, Doug, has Amanda ever let you...
watch
her?"
I wasn't sure what she meant, and said so.
"This is much harder to ask than I thought. Should have done it over our wine last night." She smiled coquettishly at me, averting her eyes as her blush deepened. "Fuck..." She took a deep breath and held my gaze bravely. "Does she ever let you...watch her get herself off?"
I laughed, relief tinged with a little bitterness. "No, never. She loves being the instrument of my pleasure, and apparently
his
