On Wednesday evening, the following email from my paramour appeared in my inbox, leading to a simultaneous wave of disappointment and excitement: Monthly visitor has arrived. Magnificent blowjob awaits!
The next morning I woke up earlier than usual, stirred from my sleep by sounds from the bathroom. The door was cracked, and wisps of steam billowed out. My wife was showering, but over the sounds of the water I heard a sound that could have been any number of things--sobbing, laughing, moaning. Curious, I decided to investigate.
Quietly, I opened the bathroom door, and looked over to the shower. In silhouette through the curtain I could see my wife standing there, propped up on one arm, fingering herself in the spray. The sounds I had heard were little cries of pleasure, which erupted fairly regularly. I stood there and watched for a moment; she was apparently unaware that I had come in. Blood rushed to my crotch and, hoping to seize the moment, I quickly doffed my boxer shorts.
Gently pushing aside the curtain, I looked at her from behind. Beads of water slid down her back and, beneath the extra weight of age, I could still see the figure that had so entranced me when we had started dating. Her back still curved elegantly, and her ass still maintained a firm round shape, courtesy of the elliptical machine. I stepped in and quickly pressed myself to her, my hard dick lodged firmly between us, and cupped her still-soapy breasts.
"Maybe I can help," I suggested.
She did not remove her hand, but instead resumed her efforts, while I started rubbing her breasts, first from the underside and then passing my palms over her nipples, sliding to the tops and back down again. Then, once more cupping them, I began manipulating her nipples with my thumbs, timing with her efforts. She moaned loudly and then stiffened, coming from our combined touches. When the wave had subsided, she turned her head to look at me, surprise in her eyes.
"Why has it been so good lately," she asked.
Instead of answering, I took the opportunity to reach between her legs, find her opening, and stick my own fingers inside her. At the same time, I reached around and found her swollen clit with my other hand. I began working it in circles while I moved the fingers of my other hand in and out. It has always been quicker and easier with her to have a second orgasm than a first, something that helped in those years of low interest, when I wanted to be done quickly, but still leave her satisfied. This time, I wanted to excite her, I wanted to make her want me, right then and there. She came even harder and more quickly.
Reaching around behind her, she began stroking my dick, pumping it to make sure it was fully hard. I moaned as she did so, and called out her name. She bent over. We had never done this, in all our years together. But just as our lovemaking in bed recently felt new, this was as though it were common practice. She bent at the waist, bracing herself against the shower wall with both hands, her breasts hanging down, water pouring off them in twin torrents.
I stepped in behind her and again sought out her opening with a finger, running it along her slit from the clitoris, enjoying the difference in lubrication. She was extremely slick, and by bending over she prevented the water from washing it away. After finding her entrance, I replaced my finger with the head of my penis and began pushing into her. Her pussy was well-oiled, ready for me to fill her; she opened easily to my advance until I was completely inside her, my testicles coming to rest against the softness of her thighs. She moaned even louder than when I had worked on her with my hands.
As I gripped her hips, I noted the difference between hers and my paramour's. My wife's were thicker, but more substantial for that. We both of us were not lithe as we had been when we were young. Neither were we particularly fat; we both exercised enough to keep that at bay. No, we carried the weight of our late thirties rather well, I thought, and the extra cushion, if anything else, allowed us to melt more into each other. I felt, perhaps, like I was falling for her again.
The shower sprayed us as we made love. As I moved in and out of her, she raised herself slightly to change my angle, and, bending my knees slightly, I penetrated her more deeply than ever before. This new angle also brought a cascade of new water than ran in a rivulet down the channel created by the indentation of her spine, water that ran straight down the crack of her ass and onto my dick. I worried about the loss of lubrication, but each time I plunged into her I was anointed anew.
She came again and again as I slowly rocked in and out of her. With an effort, I held back my own orgasm and stood there, entranced by the sight of my column of flesh disappearing and reappearing, watching the shape of her sex as it gripped me. I tried to push deeper each time, but gently, gradually working my way in. Finally, I felt a tingling in my balls and I pushed a little further still, pulling her to me with her hips, and staying stationary as I came deep inside of her.
