1) Having sex with other men
My husband and I are known as a quiet couple in a conservative pocket of middle class South Africa. Having reached our middle ages, we are considered relatively successful. He is a fine arts academic who excels at after-hours Jazz recitals in smoky intimate eateries and bars.
I reached my late forties without any child in sight. With time on my side I have started a thesis on Henry Miller's 'Tropic of Capricorn'. His brutally honest reflective style intrigued me. And of course his explicit sexual descriptions using words like cock and cunt turned me on. In my public life no one uses such language -- we just do not have cocks that get rock hard with lust for swollen hot cunt. But that's on the surface of society.
While I am not at all tight and muscle-toned, my body is soft and voluptuous with a feminine shape that still gets men turning to take a second look. I know they wonder about what's hidden beneath my modest clothing.
Hidden beneath it, submerged under swaths of fashionable middle class blouses I actually hide large lustfully swollen breasts with swollen brown aureoles that easily scrounge my nipples up into horny suckable teats. Under my old-fashioned skirts my long brown legs end in easily aroused vulva that open at the slightest suggestion of muscular hard veined cock -- especially if it is someone other than my husband.
Don't get me wrong. I love Hans. Whenever we have sex I enjoy it and occasionally orgasm easily. But I have never gotten into situations where I could have given myself to another man. Heaven forbid... The thought alone causes an illicit tremor run down my spine, setting of millions of mini-explosions off that radiate slowly up my thighs into my turgid, clammy puss. I have huge outer vaginal lips that easily fill with blood and unfold to expose my coral pink inner pussy-lips.
Recently - since my early forties - I have found my mind drifting to adulterous adventures with nameless, faceless men. These fantasies cause a maddening thrill between my legs that remains my secret domain. The thought of having sexual relations with other men just gets my juices flowing and makes my horny genitals throb endlessly. At times these thoughts wash over me uncontrollably right through the day. I often have to isolate myself in public toilets to cup my hand over my large swollen vaginal lips to calm down my very active libido. I slowly rub my cupped hand over my genitals, lightly grazing my puckered anus with my long fingertips, my palm caressing my open vagina and widely split wet, spread nether lips. I bring myself close to orgasm but never come in the sterile lonely space of public toilets. That is the domain of my warm, intimate candlelit bedroom.
In spite of the public image of conservative, straight laced couple, in my house and bedroom, my conservative husband turns into a kinky sex mate who demands that I sleep nude, wear crotchless panties and attend public functions without any underwear. In a drunken state he once at an after-function coffee venue even went so far as to suggest that I flash my pussy at the young waiter.
Given the way I was brought up, of course I resist such daring adventures. But lately he has been unable to always live up to my need for passionate love-making. I have not been screwed spontaneously and with passion, hard and deep as I need to.
I have since started looking at other men with different eyes. Young men, old men, labourers, hell, even dirty homeless men; it doesn't matter as long as there's a cock between those legs, I fantasize about getting it hard, pulling its purple helmeted hood closer to my wide opened legs where my ringed pussy-muscles awaits between wet, loosely opened coral-coloured vaginal lips.
An obscure sentence at the start of Henry Miller's autobiographical novel says that we "live the greater part of our lives submerged." Nothing illustrates quite how submerged, covered from the true throb, thumb and jabs of real life we live our lives quite as much as what happened one late night.
2) One night alone at home
It was an ordinary quiet night in an ordinary looking middle class house. Hans went off to a public event with a colleague, Rolf whom we know for a long time. I settled down for the night with one of Miller's Rosy Crucifixion novels, 'Sexus'.
As my trusty rubber vibrator (set on slow) hummed just on the spot above my clit, I imagined myself as the heroine, Ida, being sucked and licked by a muscular black man in dark clothing. I share her passion where the only thing that matters is that this man wants to see my vagina, search for it under my clothing, reveal it, make it swollen, wet and ready before urgently ramming fingers, tongue, and hard knobbed man-meat into my spread, slippery married vagina.
What is important in my fantasy is that the rest of the world, especially Hans, should never know about how much I wanted this man even while I was dressed in clothes that cover my body from head-to-toe. He should never know that long before this man even looked in my direction, I was already aroused, with engorged nipples and my vaginal lips already started to open by the time this man turned his eyes on me. He should never know how ready my vagina is for this and other men no matter about what they looked like or what their status in life is; he should never know about how swollen my breasts and nipples are as this hunk's large black hands grab my flesh, kneading it as the gulf of passion caused by my soft married woman flesh overtakes and controls all his actions from getting hard to sliding his hard knob into my hot, wet woman-hole.
I move the vibrator slowly lower, slipping it between my vaginal lips, hovering just at the opening of my vagina. My lower body starts buzzing slowly; a slight shudder indicates that it's better to move the large rubber head slightly higher to spread out the pleasure. I read Ida's description of her husband making love to her: 'God, if only he knew how to take me! He is too eager. He takes it out like a broomstick and shoves it before I've had a chance to feel anything..'
I imagine the strange man pull my dress up, saying, 'You never wear undies do you? Does your husband know that you're a slut? Any woman who wants cock this much is a slut, do you know it?' he makes me sit with my legs wide apart on a lounge chair while he stares at my crotch. His eyes greedily take in the wetness seeping through the white cotton. Involuntarily the fingers of my right hand stray to it, stroking over the protuberance that is my hidden clit.
'Play with it a bit' he says. The fingers of my left hand slowly strum over the soft bump of my hard nipple. My hips buck to and fro each time my fingers move caressingly over my clit slightly pinching my outer labia with each outwards stroke. His cock is hard, twitching in his pants.
'You're filthy,' I say but my fingers pull my panty-crotch aside. They slide between my blood-filled pussy lips, reveling in the silky slipperiness, drawing lubrication higher over the hood of an enlarged clit, shuddering into a pre-orgasmic tremor that makes my eyes flutter, my breath stuttering through open lips.
He suddenly closes the short distance between us, deftly shifting the cold blade of his Swiss-knife between the soft cotton and my hot pussy-flesh. With a slow cutting motion finishing in a fast sideswipe my panty is cut from my body.
'Take your two fingers and open it up. I like the colour of it. It's like coral inside.
The musky odour of my vagina fills the air. Its liquid desire being atomized becoming part of the air around us. It spreads into this man's nostrils, acting as an aphrodisiac letting him know this woman is ready to be taken, mated with until he spills his seed into her depths. I'm married but wants to be fucked by someone other than my Hans. Thoughts spiral out of control in my head. My conservative middle class body is having this effect on this man. Just looking at my pussy and smelling it has him crazy for me...
And he reacts to it. Getting ready, ready to turn her conservative vagina into a pussy, a cunt; his male genitals into an engorged pillar of cock, his testicles into heavy semen-filled sacks with seed ready to be shot deep into her womb. This kind of passion outside my marriage changes love-making into the kind of sex I want. I want to be fucked. I shudder at the thought of what it is going to feel like when he shafts me with his long hard cock.
My knees involuntarily spread slightly wider. I move the vibrator faster over my clit, slide over my large outer pussy lips hovering over my pussy-hole. My pussy spreads open wider for this stranger. He can take me, shove his large penis into me and I know that I will stretch myself open even wider and love his hardness into my warm melting womanhood. And I want it so much. I want to so much be taken, penetrated by this man simply because he's hot for my flesh, he looks at my pussy with hooded eyes, his cock is hard, it's twitching because he wants me so much, the thin film of sweat covering his forehead proof of the blood rushing into his hardness.
'Can you smell your cunt, bitch? You scandalous slut, can you smell your cunt filling the air around you? Everyone can smell you. Do you know that? So wet, slimy, it's wide open, shiny in there. You say Hans has got a big cock. How does he get it in there?'
With this he moves to the side of the room, never taking his eyes from between my legs. He takes the thick scented candle from the dresser at my side and hands it to me. I shudder anticipating its wideness, it's hard coldness. It's as wide as a Red-Bull can. 'Let's see if you can get it in all the way.'
Shuddering at the illicit thought of putting this wide, hard candle into my pussy, I spread my other leg over the other arm of the chair, pull my now long, outer pussy lips further apart and slide the candle between my pussy lips, lubricating it as I go, edging ever-closer to my opening. I feel the hardness reach the edge, my breath coming in short stops and starts. My lower body shudders, heat vibrates through my lower body, spreads through my wide-open thighs tingling into the bottoms of my feet.
I look down intently, staring in wonder at my pussy stretching as the candle moves, edging, rimming, needing hard cock, warmth radiating from my pussy rippling up my lower body into the swelling of my large breasts into my peaked nipples. I involuntarily move my ass back and forth, my eyes widening, a hoarse moan escaping my throat as it slips and suddenly enters my married cunt.
He pushes the chair back further, gets onto his knees in front of me and watches. Gasping I look up at him and hisses between clenched teeth, 'You can make me do anything, you dirty devil.'
'You like it, don't you?'
I cannot answer; my whole body shakes, legs trembling non-stop. I'm on the point of coming.
He steps forward, pulls the candle out and slips four long fingers into me.
Convulsing, my hips pumping to and fro and groaning, I grab his wrist, driving his fingers deeper as I look down intently: My vagina, my pussy has been transformed into a wide opened cunt ready for the fucking I so much want.
'Is it big enough for you?', I gasp, my eyes straining to see his crotch, the long hard cock hidden there beneath the cloth of his pants.
