No two marriages are the same. Two complex human beings, each with their own wants, needs, and desires attempt to conspire together so that they and their children, if they have any, have a life as rewarding as possible. Against this pursuit of happiness is amassed the troubles of life.
Looking back now, I regret some things that I have done, but I have been blessed with a most unusual husband. Many look at a storm from behind windows. He walks in it, singing. Follow me into the storm, so you can look at life from both sides.
After being married for ten years, I finally had all the pieces of my life, as I wanted them. We were in a huge, new, twenty-six hundred square foot home. The kids were doing well in school. His job was secure. Yes, he worked long hours, which seldom saw him home before seven.
I was in the adventure of my life. For a housewife that means sex. Up until that time, I had sex with my share of men. Closing my eyes, as I think about them, their faces, voices, and smells change, but the sex itself does not. I had come to the conclusion that all men came from the same cookie cutter. If their cookie cutter was a size ten, my cookie was a size twelve.
The University employed me. I interviewed for the position of office manager for the provost office. As you might imagine, it was a very formal office. Everyone was Doctor this, or Mrs. Snyder that.
At first, I was not sure if Dr. Tomlinson, the Provost, was coming on to me. It was a look, here. Bending close to my side to instruct me about a letter, there. His Platinum Chanel cologne was intoxicating. I had never been around a man like him. His dress, mannerisms, speech, and polished interpersonal skills awed me. In so many words, he reeked power.
I started to fanaticize about him taking me out. I did not think of being in bed with him. It was he and I eating in a luxurious restaurant, with him focusing his attention only on me, as he held my hands. Crazy, huh? Women’s delusions?
Out of the blue, he said, “Mrs. Snyder, there is a conference on Mackinac Island this Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. I would like for you to attend, if you can arrange things at home.”
“It would be no problem, Dr. Tomlinson, there is a college girl that I can hire to stay with the children.”
“Very well. We will depart at six thirty Wednesday. I can pick you up at your home.”
“That is very considerate.”
Later, I would come to feel that he was one bold man to come to my home, meet my husband, shake his hand, and leave with his wife, knowing full well that he intended to screw me.
New to university conferences, I was surprised to learn that all conferences end at noon, so that the conferees can socialize during the afternoon.
As we walked to the elevator, just after noon, Dr. Tomlinson said, “Mrs. Snyder. May I call you, Jan? Why don’t we go to our rooms, change into something casual, and I will meet you in the Lake Michigan room for lunch?”
“Jan is fine. Yes, I would like to freshen up.” Later thinking back on that conversation, I thought, yes, dear Dr. Tomlinson does not want to eat a pussy that has been fermenting in its own juices since six this morning.
We spent over an hour eating. For an everyday housewife, who cleans, cooks, looks out for every dollar, it was immense to be here with this man being wined and dined. Our rooms cost two hundred and seventy dollars a night. This meal was a sixty-dollar event. Putting on the Ritz, as I had imagined. At that moment, I thought that I was a Queen.
What I was, in reality, is a thirty-five year old woman who being married and confined to his office was a perfect subject for Dr. Tomlinson to seduce. There was no down side for him. Change offices? No job at the University would pay me as much as I was now making. If he knocked me up, and I realized that it was he, not my husband, I would shut up. Of course, I would. And there was a big plus for him. There was a chance that I would become addicted to his cock.
What are you talking about? You ask. It is quite simple. Dr. Tomlinson, Or Fred, as I will refer to him, has an unusually large cock. I would go so far as to say that it is the most perfect cock that I have ever seen, even on the Internet big cock sites. For a woman, cocks are like tires on a car. You need the right size. If your pussy is short and narrow, then a large cock hurts. I needed the off road, all weather truck tire size cock. Strange that an inch here and there can make so much difference, but it does. In my case, my husband has never hit my cervix either with his cock, or his fingers. In fact, up until that day on Mackinac Island, no one had, except my OB/GYN, and therein lays the rub. I knew that there was something down there that made me hot as hell if you pushed and tugged at it.
When still sitting eating lunch with Fred, the thought occurred to me that he might come on to me that night. I studied him, as he chatted with me. He was forty-five, medium sized and attractive. I thought to myself, well, yes, I would let him have his fun.
Then, I changed my mind. Wait, I thought. Get real. How would it go at work? Would he use you and then fire you? Would he want to do it again? Would my husband, Paul, suspect? Life is never simple.
Fred broke my line of thought. “Jan, you should see the view of the lake from my room? Let me show you.” He stood up, offering his hand.
I went with him.
Entering, I walked over to the window. The view was breathtaking. There were two rockers on the veranda. I sat in one.
“Jan, care for a brandy?”
“Yes, I would love one.”
By two-thirty, I was on my fourth. “Excuse me, I must use your bathroom,” I said.
I had to go both ways. It took over ten minutes. Ten minutes that I, now a little inebriated, had to contemplate what would happen next. I stood looking in the mirror.
In my mind, it was crystal clear. Fred would want to have sex with me the moment that I walked out of that door. I undressed. I held my hands under my breasts. My gaze fell to my tummy, which was enlarged by the skin left over from the birth of my children. Finally, below my tan line was my full pussy bush, which I had not trimmed since last summer. Fred would soon know that my reddish-brown hair was my real color. I put my finger in my pussy. It was soaking wet. I did not need any foreplay. I whispered to the mirror, “Let’s go fuck, shall we?”
Fred stood in the middle of the room, naked, with a glass of brandy, slowly sipping it. The window was open, allowing the warm spring breeze to blow the curtains. The aroma of apple blossoms, mixed with fragrance of lilacs make it seems so peaceful, so perfect for two people to have loving sex.
I walked over to the bed. “Ready,” Is all I said?
Fred stood looking down at me, still sipping his brandy. “You are a lovely woman, Jan Snyder, even lovelier than I had imagined.”
After setting down his now empty glass, he climbed onto the bed. His cock was still flaccid.
“Jan, why don’t you play with Little Fred for a while. He really enjoys a beautiful mouth on him.”
Fred sat by the headboard. I took Little Fred in my hands. I had never given anyone, even Paul, a blowjob. Little Fred was still not much to look at. I should have looked closer. Little Fred, flaccid, was longer, and as thick as any cock that I had ever seen. However, Little Fred was, as all flaccid cocks are, velvet soft, warm, and so very tender to the touch. Looking up into Fred’s eyes, I put the end in my mouth. Slowly, I ran the end of my tongue around and around the head, while sucking. I did not know it at the time, but blowjobs would become part of my job description.
The part in my mouth grew larger. I looked down. My God. I sat back to stare at it. As I did so, Fred pushed me backward. In one smooth motion, he lowered his body onto mine. Chest to chest, his hands opened my pussy lips. He held them apart with one hand, while guiding Little Fred to my hole with his other hand. Even as wet as I was, there was resistance for him to get the end in. When he was two inches in me, he kissed me tenderly. He was a very tender lover. He kissed me on the lips, neck, breast, ear, and mouth. All the while, with gentle shoves, he was lowering Little Fred into me.
More and more, I became aware of my vagina. It was like a hand was moving the whole thing gently in and out. Then he reached my cervix. When he reached that point, he would add a short hard thrust. I stopped kissing him. My eyes were closed. My mind was on my vagina. His every twitch, slide, rolling of his ass moved all my insides. Then, he buried himself into me. For five minutes, he just rolled his ass in a circular motion, which drove my G spot crazy.
I started to orgasm. The damn windows were open, so I pulled the pillow to my face as I moaned, “Oooohhhoo, God in Heaven, don’t let it ever stop.”
Fred pumped through my orgasm, then he allowed himself to pump his cum into me. We lie side by side for some time, not saying a word.
“Time for you to suck Little Fred again?”
I put all of the soft Little Fred in my mouth. Little Fred with my pussy juice, and Fred’s cum all over it. I thought to myself. Anything to get more of that wonderful cock into my pussy. Wednesday afternoon, evening, Thursday afternoon, and evening, we fucked continually like college kids do.
We drove back home Friday afternoon. Just before we got to our city, we stopped at Fred’s camp for yet another round.
Addicted? Yes, you could say that I was addicted. I stopped worrying about my family. Sure, I gave Paul sex anytime he wanted some. As he would be pumping into me, I could think of nothing but Fred’s cock. I stopped thinking of Fred as an attractive man. Fred was the keeper of my friend, Little Fred.
Fred’s wife was employed at a jewelry store ten miles from our city, and South of the city. Fred’s camp on Clearwater Lake was East of the city. Almost every noon, we would go out there, eating a grinder on the way, wearing towels on our front so as to not make a mess. By the time that we got there, we were ready. He would drop his pants. I would scoop up Little Fred, while saying, “C’mon Little Fred, Jan needs you to be long and hard for her pussy.”
By the time he was up, I was wet. I was used to Little Fred, so Fred would ram that thing right into me.
No open windows. No neighbors. I was a meowing cat being serviced, continually voicing my pleasure at the fucking. Fred face would become tense, hard, as he pounded his cock into me.
