She is the most traditional woman I know in so many ways. She loves to cook, is a den mother for our son's scout troop, makes most of children's clothes, is the PTA president, is a therapist who has her own office, and dresses like a professional woman with style and grace, but she just loves sex. When she is aroused, she will do about anything, and early in our relationship she told me without hesitation she most likely would not be able to be faithful.
We had sex on our first date and it was incredible, like nothing I had ever experienced. Oh, we have squabbles, like all couples, but it nearly always ends in makeup sex, which is unbelievable. When she told me she probably wouldn't be able to be faithful, she made sure to make love to me like I never had been before.
Unlike most women, she loves porn, delights in making love in front of an audience, and has done most everything sexually. The first time she gave me head I couldn't believe it. She told me she read books on techniques, websites about oral sex, and had worked to perfect her natural talents as well as she occasionally lectures on the subject.
She truly enjoys telling me about past sexual encounters, and is willing to give lusty details that keep me listening and savoring the experience my wife once had. She has told me about group sex, giving head to men she knew, and even having sex with women. She gives lurid detail, and will repeat one if I have a favorite, which I have quite a few.
Our relationship started, almost by accident, as I had gone to the wrong house to meet a friend. I was surprised when a woman answered the door. When I asked for Tom, she grinned. "That's the dumbest come on line ever," she said.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"Unless you are really looking for Tom," she said.
"I am sorry to say, I really am," I said.
"Now that is better," she said with a wicked smile. "But I am sorry you really are looking for Tom," she said in her usual no nonsense style, which I was just learning. "You are much better looking than my usual door knockers."
"Why thank you," I said, "but I really am looking for Tom. But I wish I wasn't," I said with as much of a winning smile as I could generate.
"Since he is not here, and most likely won't be, would you like to come in anyway?" she said with a smile I couldn't resist. "I have coffee and scones that are still hot from the oven."
"Scones sound delicious," I said.
"They are," she said, motioning me in. I nodded and went past her into the very fashionable living room. There was a large leather couch, two overstuffed chairs, and a maple coffee table. The room looked as if it was designed by a decorator who knew a great deal about style. I sat on the couch and she excused herself and talked as she went into another room.
"My name is Michelle," she said as she disappeared into what I realized had to be the kitchen. A few moments later she came back carrying a tray with two cups and two plates of scones with butter and jelly on each dish. "So Tom is the friend you're looking for. What is Tom's friend's name?"
"I am David," I said. "Tom was my roommate in college. Berkeley," I said.
"Oh, really? What year? I was where they have a tree for a mascot," she said.
