My wife, Susan, is a lovely girl. Oh, I'm not talking film-star, 'instant hard-on' stuff, here. She's not like that. She's – nice – wholesome – attractive –'that' kind of lovely – on the surface. Underneath, though – well, she can be thoroughly 'wicked'. I'd better explain.
I met Susan when we were both seventeen, starting sixth form college. I noticed her right away – quite a tall girl; dark brown curly hair, cut short; deep liquid-brown eyes set very wide apart on high cheekbones, giving her a look of extreme innocence, almost naivety; a straight, slim nose; and a wide mouth, with generous lips, which always appeared to be hovering on the edge of a smile.
The regulation school uniform betrayed little of her body shape (of which more later!) but I could see that she was neither excessively fat, nor skinny, and the calves and ankles showing below the school skirt were shapely enough.
Getting to know her wasn't difficult – she was very easily approachable and friendly, with a great sense of humour – but taking matters beyond that stage was not at all easy. I tried for three months to get a date with her, but she always turned me down with a charming, regretful smile, then made me feel better by carrying on the conversation without tension or embarrassment.
The one consolation was that she didn't go out with anyone else, either – in fact, people who had known her at her last school said they couldn't recall her ever going out with anyone, at all. Boys – that is, but there seemed to be no question of her being 'inclined the other way' – she seemed to enjoy the company of boys and girls more or less equally.
But, I kept working at it, and the school Christmas dance proved to be the breakthrough. We weren't together for the whole evening, or even most of it, but I did get the last dance with her – and she not only let me escort her home, but allowed me four very satisfying kisses on the way!
So, we became an 'item'. At the beginning, I was very circumspect in my sexual approaches, despite the thrusting desire burgeoning in my (now eighteen-year-old) loins. By now, though, I was very well aware of the general outline of Susan's shape and it was more than suited to my taste. Her breasts were high and firm-looking, if not overly large; her legs, observed during school hockey matches, were at once shapely and athletic; and her bottom, viewed even more carefully by me at these games, was one of those joyous peach-shaped structures you could stack half a dozen dinner plates on. She wasn't a great hockey player, but I loved to watch her play!
By early Spring, though, I was beginning to feel the strain of abstinence, having lost my own virginity some eighteen months before and having 'had', in all, three separate girls at my previous school, and I began to force the issue a bit. Every time I tried to put a hand on her breast, she would gently remove it, and the time came when I knew I had to resolve this issue, or move on to pastures new. And I desperately didn't want to give her up – in everything but sex, we seemed a perfect match, and I couldn't imagine life without her.
One night, when we were babysitting for her aunt, matters came to a head and I 'laid it on the line'. And, for the first time ever, I saw her cry. I felt such a heel for putting her through such distress, but, as it turned out, it was probably the best thing I could have done.
Through her tears, she told me of a frightening, distressing experience which had happened to her when she was just fourteen. I didn't get all the detail then – she was too shy to spell it out, although I have learned chapter and verse since – and, of course, because of her age at the time, I can't go into it here.
Basically, though, what had happened was one of those teenage things, when she and an older girl had just been chatting and larking about with a group of five boys when, suddenly, things took a sexual turn and, while neither of the girls was raped, they were both pretty thoroughly exposed and 'explored' by the boys, much against Susan's will, if not the other girl's.
This had had a traumatic effect on the young Susan, and left her very wary of being alone with a boy, or even in a female minority, in a group. Of course, when she told me this, I was outraged, although, even at the time, I was aware of an uncomfortable stirring, deep down, when I pictured the scene.
She, too, turned eighteen, soon after the night she told me about that experience, and, as she grew to trust me more and more, I at last made the breakthrough. One memorable night – clearly a considered decision – she took my hand and placed it on her left breast, while we were kissing on her aunt's settee, and, ten minutes later, I was gazing in awe at her beautiful naked breasts, with their dark pink aurolae and thick, erect nipples.
Very soon afterwards, I discovered that her nipples were extremely sensitive, both to manual and oral stimulation, and it was only three weeks later that the final barrier collapsed and I drew down her panties to reveal her full-lipped, moist vagina in a nest of soft brown curly hair ......
She gave up her virginity happily and, as far as I could tell, practically painlessly, and, from that point on, we could not keep our hands off each other.
We married four years later, when we both finished university and, now, eleven years on from then, we have two sons, a nice Georgian house in the country, and an idyllic life – by and large.
Well, it's pretty good, I suppose. I have a very well-paid job with an international engineering organisation and the travelling involved does at least mean we get a break from each other. Maybe I've put that rather badly. It means we have to separate from time to time, for longish periods, which rekindles the embers and makes us more appreciative of the times we have together.
Well, that's the theory, anyway. I suppose, in practice, when it comes down to it, when you've been fucking the same woman for fifteen years – feeling the same pair of tits – it really can get a bit monotonous – well, 'samey'.
For – oh, about the last five or six years or so, I've found myself more aware of other women and, if the truth be told, I have strayed off the straight and narrow a few times, when I've been away. But, each time, when I've come home, and looked into Susan's wide innocent eyes, I've felt really bad about it. Mind you, the eyes are not always a completely accurate window on the soul, as I've found out where Susan's concerned!
A few years back, in bed one night, I pressed Susan for every last detail of her 'traumatic' experience of her early teens. It led to a memorable, and very educational, night – probably for both of us.
First of all, I found that, far from my having to drag it out of her, she was only too ready to go into every last detail – and, it seemed to me, got more and more turned on as she did so. I was less surprised that I, too, became more and more horny as the tale unfolded – so much so that, halfway through, I couldn't keep off her and fucked her until I came, and then came back for seconds, for the first time for several years, as she took up the story where she had left off.
Then she confessed that she had not only relived it in her mind a thousand times, but the she had fantasised about it going further – and had masturbated to these, and other 'forced sex' fantasies. This was a hugely liberating admission, for both of us, as it allowed me to 'come clean', not least to myself, about a feeling of massive arousal when I contemplated Susan with another man – 'forced' or otherwise.
And it led to a tremendous re-awakening of our mutual desire for each other, fuelled by fantasy. We even occasionally 'acted out' rape scenarios with each other, which excited Susan enormously, and she willingly cooperated in my fantasy encounters involving her with other men.
But even more rewarding, from my point of view, were Susan's confessions of a few 'true-life' transgressions, since our marriage – indeed, our relationship – had begun. The first halting admission involved a mutual friend, who had since moved away, who had been dancing close to Susan at a party at which I had been somewhat the worse for wear, and, by then, actually asleep in a darkened room.
The guy, called Noel, had made it plain, by the simple expedient of pushing his erection against her while they danced, how he felt, and Susan, who had had a drink or two herself, had let him manoeuvre her into another room, where there was only one other couple dancing. They had been all over each other and, before she recovered her wits, Susan had allowed Noel to slip his hands up her blouse and push her bra aside to fondle her bare breasts – in fact, she had enjoyed it so much that she didn't call a halt to it until his other hand was wedged down the back of her panties, squeezing the soft cheeks of her luscious bottom.
There had been other similar occasions – not always when I was insensible through a surfeit of real ale! One New Year, though, I had been non compos mentis when the brother of one of our neighbours, who had been pursuing Susan determinedly ever since she went slightly 'over the top' with her New Year kiss, finally got her in a slow dance to a Beatles classic – which I know turns her on – and weakened her resistance to the point where he was behind her, his erection jammed hard against her squirming bum, one hand fondling her exposed tits, the other down the front of her panties teasing her clit, as they watched his brother on a settee with another neighbour, sliding her panties off as she parted her legs in open invitation ......
Susan only escaped that time, by making a beeline for the loo, in her last moments of sanity, but she does enjoy it when I take that one forward, in fantasy, and have her screwed, not only by the brother, but by our neighbour, who is apparently very well-endowed in the prick department!
These, though, are the 'highlights' of Susan's 'extra-marital' career, although there have been other passionate fondles from time to time, and I calculate, in all, a total of eight guys, other than me, have groped her tits and three have actually made it, with their fingers, into her pussy.
However, the demands of childbirth, and parenthood, have meant that, recently, our social life has been a bit restricted, and it was a very rare occasion, at the back end of last summer, when we found ourselves with a free – a child-free, even! – weekend, the older boy attending Cub camp, and the younger visiting his grandparents.
The weather was glorious – that luxurious early September sunshine that warms you without making you uncomfortable. I flew in from Germany in mid-afternoon on the Friday, and we had a lazy evening, with a glass or two of wine, then an 'early night', with some very satisfying sex – without even having to worry about the noise when we both came!
When I woke, the next morning, I fancied a bit more of the same, but Susan wriggled away, playfully, and said she wanted to 'keep me on the boil' for that night. She slid out of bed – still naked from the night before – and went over to open the bedroom curtains. She flung them wide open and stood, naked, soaking up the morning sunshine through the glass, which reaches down to the floor.
She knew what that was doing to me. We're not very visible from the road outside, but we're not completely invisible, either, and she knew it would give my cock a lift – the slight chance that someone passing by might get a clear view of her lush, desirable body. I knew, too, that she only does that when she's aroused, herself, so I crept over and grabbed her from behind, clasping her tits, feeling her thick, erect nipples, and pushing my erection into the firm flesh of her buttocks.
At first, she struggled, then she seemed to concede, and stood, looking out of the window, as my hand slid down over her belly, into her pubic forest, towards her juicy cunt. Then she suddenly wriggled free, and dashed into the shower, slamming the door behind her.
"To-night, you randy bastard!" she yelled at me, through the door. "And only after you've bought me dinner at the Sun!"
It wasn't a bad idea, though – dinner at the Sun, our local pub, then back for another night of sex and sin! I flung on some clothes, and went out to attack the garden ......
