My transition from a respectable married woman to a sexual adventurer.
"Walk round to the foot of the bed," he told me rather than asked.
I did as he said.
"Just stand there and let me look at you," he went on.
I stood there naked apart from the black, lacy boyshorts.
"For your age Cat your tits are still fucking great," he went on looking admiringly at my thirty six inch, D cup boobs. Despite having born two children, although I did not breast feed them, I am proud of my boobs. They are full and round, with only a modest amount of sag.
"Hold them up," he ordered. I did as he said. "Now lick them."
I lifted both orbs up, bent my neck and holding his gaze I licked the stunningly hard nipples. I had only recently told him that I could do this and now he wanted to watch me do it each time we met. As we stared at each other with me caressing and licking my breasts, I watched fascinated as his hand went to his gorgeous, big, hard cock and slowly stroked it. I had always loved watching a man play with himself and since we had been together I had revelled in watching him masturbate, often with him shooting onto my stomach, tits or face.
"Walk round to the foot of the bed," he said.
I obeyed instantly; that was part of our game. He got up and stood with his back to the window, which was to my right and slightly behind me. I glanced at him and shivered with anticipation. He had a fabulous physique and with his Mediterranean colouring and huge cock, he looked stunningly alluring, immensely sexy and so eminently fuckable that I almost broke our rules and went to touch him, but I resisted the temptation.
"Bend over and grasp the footboard."
I gripped the wrought iron footboard and bent forward.
"No further."
I leaned forward further so that my body was bent nearly ninety degrees at the waist.
"Like this?" I asked.
"Yes like that, but move your feet further apart."
I felt so exposed and vulnerable, yet available and accessible. 'But for what?' I wondered as out of the corner of my eye I saw him moving towards me. He came very close, I could almost feel the heat from his gorgeously hard cock. He ran his fingertips across the lace of the boyshorts and the skin of my bum cheeks not covered by the intentionally skimpy garment. Most of my arse was displayed for him and momentarily I wondered if he was going to spank me, but I knew he would not as we had a rule on leaving or, more to the point, not leaving trophy marks on each other.
"Stay like that," he instructed me adding. "I have to get something."
I could not avoid turning my head to watch his firm, sculptured buttocks and lithe, strong legs as he walked out of the bedroom. He was by some margin the most erotic looking man I had ever known. He returned very quickly and said.
"Close your eyes and keep them closed, do not let go of the bed."
He stroked me, sending more shivers of anticipation and excitement through me.
"Don't speak again until I tell you," he said.
I felt him pulling on the lace of the panties and then I felt something else on my bum and thigh. It was cold and made of metal. At first, I could not work out what it was, but then I heard a click or two and realised he must be holding a pair of scissors, large ones. The cold, steel side of them was resting on both of my cheeks presumably bridging the crease between them. He pulled on the panties again and then I heard the sound of the scissors cutting through the lace of the panties making me think as I smiled. 'Better than ripping them as he had a couple of times.' The elastic round both of my legs loosened and I felt the material that was the gusset brush against my thighs. As I felt him lift up the back of the cut panties, I worked out that he must have cut through the gusset. This made me feel enormously aroused and even more exposed and vulnerable.
We had been playing this sort of dom/sub thing on and off for a few weeks now. It was not a role-play we used every time we met, just now and then, and this happened to be one of those times.
I felt him against my bare buttocks as his hands reached round and cupped my dangling breasts. He pulled and pinched my nipples probably just a little harder than normal or when we were not playing this game. He kissed my back and ran his tongue upwards into the tangles of my ash blonde, shoulder-length hair that may well have been a tad on the long side for my forty-five years. I felt his cock trying to snuggle into the crease between my cheeks, but it was, of course, too thick for that. Nevertheless, the underneath of it rubbed right across my anal hole. Involuntarily, my legs started to close.
"Keep them open," he growled, frustratingly removing his cock from between my bum cheeks.
He gripped the slight surplus of flesh on each of my hips making me wish I worked harder in the gym or on the tennis court.
I felt him kneel and waited expectantly for the feel of his tongue on my lips. His hand slid round me and his fingers fumbled in the folds of skin before finding my clit. He rubbed that and my knees nearly buckled with the surge of raw sexual want that hurtled through me. But that was nothing like what was to follow very quickly.
His tongue did not go to my pussy, but instead licked the length of the crease in my bottom. That surprised me as he had shown only a limited inclination for any anal play to date. But this time he did and I felt his tongue pressing right on that tight, taboo hole. I could hardly believe the sensations that roared through me as the tip of it slipped inside me. He licked my arse, he slid his tongue in a little way, he rubbed my clit and pinched and pulled my nipples all at the same time. The combination of feelings was amazing. Naturally I started to cum. As always, though, he sensed that and slowed down holding me at that level just beneath an orgasm.
I moaned and started to say. Make me cum, but he stopped me.
"I told you not to speak until I tell you."
I stopped.
I felt his finger slide along my slit, from the front to the back several times. And then, on one sweep it did not stop. Soaked with my juices it kept going, it slithered into the crevice, found my anal hole, pressed on it and slid inside me. That hurt and I grunted and cried out.
"No, stop."
"Shut up," he muttered back wiggling his finger inside me.
Then I felt the fingers on his other hand slipping into my pussy. I could feel them touching the other one through the thin membrane dividing those two passages.
As he finger fucked my arse and my cunt, so he licked and slurped his mouth all over both of them.
Then I did cum, then I did orgasm and then my legs did give way and we fell to the carpet his fingers still inside me.
"You can talk now Cat," he said.
*
I had met Ashiree Bashal at a charity function at the Grosvenor House Hotel, in London some four months or so ago. The corporate law firm of which my husband Richard was a partner had taken a table of ten at five hundred pounds a person; a huge sum I thought, but then it did include champagne and wine.
Ashiree, a Lebanese businessman had recently become a client of the firm and Richard and he had worked on several acquisitions. They were slowly transferring his business empire from the Middle East to Europe and America. Richard had helped him set up his headquarters in Dublin, due to the low taxes, and as he disposed of his older construction businesses in Lebanon, Dubai, Abu Dhabi and Saudi he was acquiring new ones in electronics and digital media in the US and Europe.
He was immensely rich, extraordinarily handsome and by some margin the sexiest man I had ever met.
I had been married for twenty five years and had strayed only once when I had a six month affair. I was certainly not promiscuous, I rarely thought of being with other men and although my marriage was somewhat rocky due to Richard being away from home so much, the idea of another affair had not entered my head. That is until I danced with Ashiree in the Grand Room of the hotel.
I could not believe what had been happening to me all of that evening. When he looked at me across the table I was transfixed and could not drag my eyes away from him. When he smiled at me I started to melt, when he spoke to me I became like a teenager and a gibbering wreck and when we danced, all I could think of was being held like he was holding me, but with both of us naked. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before and not since when I was teenager had I had such thoughts. I had no idea what was causing it other than the sheer animal magnetism I felt for him.
After the Grosvenor House a group of us, thankfully including Ashiree who was not with a partner, went on to a night club in Mayfair called Tramp. He stood close to me as we drank champagne that he had bought at two hundred pounds a bottle. Ridiculously and totally out of character I wanted to touch him, hold his hand and stroke his thick, long dark hair. As we all chatted, my heart was pounding and my pulse was racing at his closeness. And when we danced again and he held my body against his as his hand strayed up and down my back, pausing at my bra strap, I felt in danger of having an orgasm.
Richard and I stayed at the Grosvenor House that night. Arriving back there around three and going straight to our room, I was still feeling the effects of Ashiree. Almost since first seeing him, my nipples had been hard and when we had danced at Tramp I could feel my panties becoming damp. I undressed quickly, but kept my panties on and while Richard was in the bathroom I lay on the bed with the sheet turned back. When he returned I stared at him, hopefully invitingly, but he did nothing. He gave me a cursory kiss on the cheek, turned his back to me and was soon snoring.
I was both too annoyed and too excited to sleep.
My relationship with my husband had worsened over the past year or so, which had coincided with our second child going away to university. With Richard away mainly in New York, one week in three, I was desperately lonely and with his sex drive, with me at least, on the wane, I was also almost permanently sexually frustrated.
However, as I lay there just in my panties that once more were becoming damp, I could not get Ashiree out of my mind. The recall of my body against his, the feeling of his hand on my back, the smell of his aftershave and the look in his dark eyes as we had stared at each other all filled my mind. That led to other thoughts and soon one of my hands was cupping my breast and pinching my nipple as the other slid into my panties and found my clit.
Silently, I gave myself the orgasm that I had invited my husband to provide, but which in my mind was being given by Ashiree Bashal.
