The Downfall of Donna Reed

At some point, Michael turned on the bench, stretching out full length, taking me with him. I was lying on top of him, somewhat like a little rag doll, totally sated and limp. His lovely hands rubbed up and down my back, making little circles and tracing hearts and words of love. I could almost hear him purring with happiness and satisfaction. I was drifting off to sleep when he began talking to me, whispering words of love. One thing that did get through the sleep haze was that, perhaps, we should move on, leave our dressing room prior to security finding us.

Then we did as all lovers do, we planned our next meeting, our next rendezvous. We found that we each had a few days that week without spouses in town. I boldly invited him to my house, my own bed, to continue my education. We carefully planned the time and then we started kissing again. The thought of having him all to myself for an entire day had me so excited, but the thought of the security finding us kept invading my mind. Reluctantly, we pulled apart. Michael helped me dress, well, not exactly helping because he insisted on kissing all the places I was trying to cover. Finally, we were both presentable. Verifying once again our meeting for Wednesday, we kissed and I left the dressing room.

Tuesday was spent straightening the house, looking at everything as Michael would. I also kept running the tape in my mind, of Carolyn and then Michael, touching my body, pleasuring me. I never knew I could feel such passion, such joy. I happily packed Jim's bag, cooked him a wonderful dinner, even allowed him to fuck my body. It was as predicable as always. He turned to me after the 10 PM news, pulled up my gown and climbed onto my still form. He fucked me with no foreplay, no words of love, no teasing or caressing. After many hard strokes in my unprepared pussy, he came. Kissing my cheek, he rolled away, saying he was leaving early in the morning and would try not to wake me. I couldn't stop comparing the loving from Michael with this invasion of my body by my husband. It made me even surer that being with my lover was the correct thing to do.

Finally, it was Wednesday. A beautiful spring day. The day I welcomed my lover to my home. I love spring...this kind of spring, when the trees are bursting with greenness, and the flowers are breaking through the earth, the air was heavy with honeysuckle and the scent of new-mown grass. It was a lovely day. The sunshine was nearly painful in its brilliance. My lover was coming to me, to spend a glorious day with me, to make love with me until we were both exhausted and could only manage a smile, to just be here in my arms as I kept dreaming he was. He would be here soon. I went to my room, my private bower, where I would soon welcome Michael. I looked over the room one more time with his eyes. The bed was welcoming with pillows and a warm quilt. A scented vanilla candle was perfuming the air. The CD player was full of lovely, romantic tunes, filling my ears with songs of love and passion. I had opened the big window that faces the private backyard. The men were outside, mowing the grass and weeding my garden. The yard would look perfect when my lover stood at this window. I wanted everything to BE perfect.

Now, it was time for me. I dropped my shorts and shirt in a little heap outside the shower and stepped into the powerful spray. I let the warm water cascade down my hair, as if it were my sweetheart's fingers. I filled my hand with vanilla shampoo and started to wash my hair, gathering it on top of my head and making all sorts of fancy hairdos, feeling the sensuality of his fingers touching my scalp. My eyes were closed. I was vaguely aware of the lawn guys talking outside my window. I looked through the clear shower curtain and

could see them walking about, doing their work. I leaned forward to rinse my hair, feeling the lather sliding off my now squeaky-clean head. As I massaged in the conditioner, I again felt his fingers touching my head. Now he was massaging my scalp and neck, his fingers playing with my ears and chin. I love his touch. After clipping my wet hair on top of my head, I reached out to the shelf to select a scented soap for my shower. I was aware that more men are within vision of the window, but I was glad they were doing their work and would soon be gone.

I selected a vanilla soap and poured it into my hands. I washed my arms and shoulders. As I reached my breasts, I thought of how much he loved them, loved the responsiveness of my nipples to his touch. I slowly ran my fingers over the nipples, feeling them stiffen and get all bumply. I pinched them lightly and then ran my fingernails over them. My eyes closed again and a moan escaped my lips. I wanted him there now. I was so hungry for him, my nipples were aching for his touch and I tried to abate that desire with my own clumsy

hands. I continued to lather my body, thinking of how he would do it, how his hands would slide here and linger there. After rinsing off the soap, I reached between my legs and touched so gently there. I knew what I would find. The lips were already full of excitement, the moisture there having nothing to do with my shower. I poured more vanilla soap into my palm and begin soaping up my soft, hairless mound. With my eyes closed, I easily imagined my lover in the shower with me, cleaning me with his long, sensitive fingers, touching the spots he knows are my favorites, knowing that everywhere he touches quickly becomes my favorite.

My little shy clit is already blooming, swollen and aching. I touch it with the tip of my finger and feel the pleasure race through me. I knew I should be waiting, that he would be there soon, but I couldn't stop my finger from its path, gently running back and forth on my little nubbin, circling it and making it so hard. I was leaning on the wall, almost unable to stand alone. I kept thinking that he would be doing this or that and then performing the very act I knew he would perform. My fingers were flying inside me, touching my sweet clit, moving deeper, my fingers were entering me and feeling the hot pinkness of me. I needed my lover so much. The other hand was moving over my nipples, feeling the hardness and fueling the ache. I was touching myself as he would, but it was not enough. I lacked the skill of his fingers, I missed his kiss, his warmth, his scent. I was leaning on the wall, looking through the clear curtain, willing him to me. I saw a man entering the bathroom. The curtain opened and it was my lover, my sweet Michael, coming to me as I hoped he would. He was already naked and ready for me. I saw his cock was hard and reaching for me, as anxious as I was to make love. He entered the shower, noting my hand between my legs, my other hand on my breast. He smiled, telling me he was here now, let him help me.

He placed his hands gently on my cheeks, moving his fingers into my wet hair and kissed me the way he knew I needed, slowly and deeply, as if nothing matters in all the world but this kiss of greeting. Our bodies moved together, blended together, until we were molded one against the other. Then he pulled away and held my body under the spray, making sure that all the vanilla lather was rinsed away. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped in a towel, taking another one off the rack for me. He held the towel out for me and I stepped into it. We stood there, so hungry for each other, so ready to make love. He was deliberately delaying it, making me wait. He dried my hair with a smaller towel and stood behind me, combing it, taking extra time with all the tangles. He was so incredibly gentle. All the while, I can feel his hard cock pressed against me. I am aware we were standing next to the open window and the lawn men were still at work, but suddenly that didn't seem too important.

He dried my shoulders and arms, softly and gently, making me feel like the most precious person on earth. I liked the feeling of being so small in his arms, feeling so fragile when he touched me. He lowered my bath towel now, drying my body. He sprayed my vanilla mist on me, rubbed my back with vanilla lotion. I stood before him, both of us facing the mirror. I am naked and clean and so in need of him. He turned me then, so I could face him and feel his chest against me. I felt his hard cock throbbing against me too, yet I knew there was no urgency, no rush. We had all day...all day to make love and exhaust each other.

I take the small towel and start to dry his chest and back. I am kissing his chest as I dry it, sucking on his tiny, yet very responsive, nipples. He was moaning and leaning toward me. I was so glad he was enjoying it. I love making him happy, giving him pleasure. I let his bath towel drop to the floor and I was once again amazed at the size and heat of his cock. Every time I see it, I am thrilled anew that it is mine, that I can play with it all I want and love it and kiss it and make him squirm with delight. We stand together now, our naked bodies pressed together, our mouths meeting and our mutual moans growing louder.