Note: this is purely fictional. I think a lot of women have had the fantasy of being swept up by a younger, more forceful man, who would then relegate her wimpy husband to the role of servant and maid. This is my version, with a little twist at the end:
Harold was laboring, his thrusts becoming less forceful, and certainly for me, less pleasurable. I wished he would just finish! As usual, I wasn't going to climax; I already knew that. His weight was becoming unbearable, and my thighs were crampec from being held so far apart by his flabby knees. I forced my mind away from my body and drifted off into a much more pleasurable memory, that of a guy named Jay.
Jay was 22, six years younger than me. I'd met him at the gas station while filling up the Boxster. He was good-looking and confident, and he didn't try to hide the fact that he was staring at my ass as I bent over the rear of the car. I was used to that. Being pretty and driving a hot sports car, I attract a lot of stares. Jay was more brazen than most, and the man was just plain gorgeous! The fact that I was always horny lately made it easy to smile at him. We'd ended up talking over coffee at the little kiosk inside the station for more than an hour that morning, and when he got up to leave, he'd left his card on the table and his kiss on my neck.
Jay's Plumbing. The number he'd written on the card was his cell. I smiled, already fantasizing about making love to me.
I had called him the very next day, and he gave me directions to his place. It was a double-wide trailer. I was nervous about parking the Porsche in this neighborhood. Both of us knew why I was there, though, and after a few minutes of nervous laughter and some pointed questions about my marriage, he stopped talking, propped his chin in his hands, and just stared into my eyes. He didn't even need to say anything. Tentatively, bashfully, my hand went to the top button of my blouse, watching his face. This was so unlike me! I hoped I hadn't read him wrong, because I wanted him so badly it almost hurt. Two buttons, now. His cocky grin encouraged me, so I continued, and by the time I draped my blouse over the back of the chair, he was coming around the kitchen table and reaching for me.
That first kiss was so ... welcome; so liberating. I tried to remember if Harold had ever kissed me like that, and I didn't think so. If he had, it had been ten years and forty pounds ago. My husband had gotten sedentary and soft, while I'd kept my college figure and my high-school sex drive. Jay was the age I wished I could stay. Thirty was getting closer all the time, and I didn't want to give up on life like my husband had.
"Damn, Dianna," he breathed, "I want you."
That was what I needed to hear. My hands clutched at his tee shirt, yanking it upward frantically. He helped, chuckling softly. When I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, I could already feel him bursting forth, his erection eager for me. I pulled his jeans down with me as I went to my knees, my eyes taking in the enormous tent in his boxers. He let me discover a thickness and length I'd only dreamed about as he stood there, his hands on his hips.
When I pulled his shorts down, his dick literally sprang upward at me. I looked up at his face as my hands gripped it, and I think I licked my lips! At any rate, he laughed, and eased his hips forward. He wanted to feel my mouth on him as much as I did, and I let my gaze drop as I took the broad flat head between my lips. He was long, and easily as thick as my wrist. When I took him in my mouth, I could feel the throbbing beat of his heart. My pussy clenched as I imagined him inside me there, and I could feel the wetness of my panties as they clung to me.
He breathed deeply as I slid my lips down his length, my hands surrounding the base at his belly. I let my tongue explore him, tracing the veins and the way his skin dimpled and flared beneath me. He tasted good, his precum slightly salty. I looked up, and he was still watching me, smiling blissfully as I tried to take him all in. I couldn't; Harold gave me little chance to perfect my deep-throating skills. When I gagged, Jay pulled back, letting me regain my composure. His hands went to my head, his fingers entwining lightly in my hair, but he only held me there. It was I who moved forward again.
Again, the touch of his cockhead at my uvula caused an involuntary clench of my throat. I concentrated on working him with my tongue this time, laving him with the flat of it as I held him in my mouth, and he groaned. I sucked him gently, revelling in the taste of his skin.
"Oh God," he said. His fingers tightened in my hair, and he thrust forward slightly, urging me on. I sucked him in, willing my throat to relax, and he pushed just past my uvula. There were still two more inches to take in, but he stopped. I was glad. My mouth was full of him, pulsing and throbbing, and I needed time to get used to the feel of him against my tonsils. My eyes were streaming tears, and I wondered what I looked like to him.
When he pulled back, I kept my throat relaxed, and there was no urge to gag this time. My lips surrendered him, inch by inch, until they surrounded his head once more. I tasted more precum, and I swallowed, taking it into my belly. Sucking him and rolling the tip of my tongue around his head, I felt the first subtle twinges of a climax begin, far below my mouth. It warmed my belly as it spread outward, and I knew that when he entered me, I would come immediately. For now, I was content to spend a lifetime worshipping him with my mouth.
The blowjob lasted a few more minutes, long enough for me to take him even further into my throat before I began to gag, and then he reached his hands under my armpits to pull me up to him. My eyes were watering. I was streaming saliva from my lips. He kissed them anyway, tasting himself all over my mouth.
"You're amazing," he said between kisses, and I probably blushed. His tongue danced with mine, and I felt his cock, still throbbing, against my thigh. I wanted him to take me. Now. His fingers undid the snap of my slacks and they dropped to the floor around my feet.
Reaching behind me, I unfastened my bra, and felt the coolness of the air-conditioning on my breasts. Then, the warmth of his hands, softly squeezing them, as he caressed me there. A brush of his thumbs across my nipples, and I felt my climax lurch forward. My breath became ragged. Leaning back, I let him mouth my nipples, his tongue flicking gently across them, and my knees began to go weak as my orgasm began to spread.
It was creeping upward and over me, driving me deliciously insane. I gasped, grabbed his biceps for support, and gave myself over to the sensations that were criss-crossing my body from my pleasure centers. I moaned once, my legs stiffened, and when I felt him bite down gently on one nipple, that was it.
"Oh, gooooodddddd..."
Once I'd stopped shaking, he picked me up ... literally picked me up. Turning me around, he laid me on my back on the table and hooked his fingertips in the waistband of my soaked lace panties. I raised my hips to help, and he looked down at my freshly shaven pussy, smiling.
"I'm going to fuck you inside out," he promised, and I spread my legs as widely as I could, praying that I could accomodate him. When the head of his cock spread my labia wide, I gasped. He was the biggest man I'd ever had inside me, and I had a brief moment of fear that he'd tear me.
I shouldn't have worried; it took a moment to adjust to him, but the brief pain was intensely pleasurable. As he stroked deeply into and out of me, I gave myself over to another, almost instaneous orgasm. It multiplied, and my body shook wildly as he ground deeper and deeper inside me, lighting one fire after another within my body. After fucking me long enough to make my backbone ache, he pulled me off the table, turned me around, and bent me forward over it. He went even deeper in that position, and I came again, holding onto the table for support. Later, much later, he hoisted me up again. This time he fucked me standing up, with my ankles locked behind his waist and that glorious cock deep in my belly. I was experiencing what felt like one long, continuous orgasm, and I know I screamed at some point. I knew I'd never experience another fuck like this, and I couldn't get enough of the pleasure.
When at last he coated my cervix with load after load of thick semen, I didn't even worry about getting pregnant. I wanted to have his child; to remind myself that I'd been fucked by a real man. My entire sexual life with my husband would forever pale before this day.
**************
That was two and a half weeks ago. I hadn't seen Jay since that day, but now, with the memory of his cock thrusting deep inside me, I managed to climax. I gripped Harold's upper arms, letting my voice go as my pussy spasmed around his semi-flaccid excuse for a penis. When it was over, I couldn't have told you whether he ever came or not. He simply collapsed on top of me, until I squirmed from under him and went to sleep.
The next morning, I stuffed a couple of washcloths and a huge wad of toilet paper into the toilet and flushed repeatedly, until it overflowed. As I suspected he would, Harold did his usual ineffective job with the plunger. When he gave up, he told me to call a plumber.
I called Jay's Plumbing.
"Listen, I know you probably don't want to hear from me again," I said into the phone, my hand held over my mouth, "but I really do have a plumbing problem." I told him what I'd done, and he laughed.
"Jeeze, Dianne, you're a nutcase, you know? When you left that day, I was afraid you'd say I raped you. You looked like you'd been dragged down a riverbed," he said. I detected a definite air of pride in his voice. The bastard!
"I wasn't sure if I wanted to see you again," I told him honestly, "but I have to. That day ... Jay, I've never felt like that before in my life. I realized what it was, to make love to a real man." I accentuated the word 'real'. He promised to be right over.
"I know the address," he said. "I drove by your house a few times after that day. You've got a real nice place, sweetheart. Your old man must be loaded." He hung up.
After trying the power drain snake, Jay told Harold he'd have to dig up the entrance to our sewer connection, because he'd chased the blockage that far. He winked at me when he gave him the price. It wasn't going to be cheap. Harold reluctantly agreed after a half-hearted attempt at bargaining. Jay smiled, knowing that he'd now screwed both the wife and the husband. I watched him take off his shirt, craving him more than ever.
