Airport departure lounges are contradictory places. On the one hand there is a sense of glamour about them – they're your gateway to jet off somewhere exotic. Sadly the reality is a functional, low cost room where you're herded together with your fellow travellers in an area scuffed and stained by the thousands who went before you.
However previous flights I'd taken had always been on holiday with my husband and this was the first time I had ever flown on my own so there was a certain novelty in the situation. I glanced around at my fellow travellers. They were a mixture of singles and couples, no families, so thankfully no noisy, fractious children. A man in a business suit tried to make eye contact with me, but I made a point of looking elsewhere. If he had known the agenda for my weekend away then he would have realised that his chances of picking me up were nil.
My thoughts about the coming weekend were interrupted when a woman in her thirties, so about the same age as me, asked if she could beg a favour. I asked what and she said she had promised to ring her husband from the departure lounge, but her phone had a flat battery. Could she borrow mine for a single brief call? Of course I said yes and after a quick word with her husband she handed the phone back to me.
She introduced herself as Helen and I invited her to sit with me. She explained that it had been a hectic day and she was late setting off for the airport, so it had been a stressful start to her journey. She was on her way to see her brother who was in hospital recuperating after an operation for kidney stones. She told me a bit about her brother who used to live near her in London but had then moved to Glasgow. She was chatty, but very pleasant with it and of course after a couple of minutes she asked me what was taking me to Glasgow - business or pleasure?
I could have lied, but somehow that seemed rather pointless, so I said it was pleasure. I explained that I was seeing a friend, my former boss who moved to Glasgow three months ago. There was no mistaking the puzzled expression when she realised that my "friend" was a man; she had obviously seen my wedding ring and I could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Her next question was put very casually, but was clearly intended to extract some vital information.
"Which hotel are you staying at?"
They say that confession is good for the soul and I had an overwhelming desire to tell the truth. I am basically an honest person, but I don't think a desire to be truthful was my real motivation for confiding in Helen. I suspect that on this occasion I wanted to show off a bit, to stress my transition from dull housewife to glamorous lover.
"I'm not, I'm staying at Steve's flat."
"At his flat? But doesn't your husband mind?"
"No, not at all. He thoroughly approves, in fact when Steve invited me to spend the weekend with him Paul encouraged me to go."
"Isn't he worried something will happen?"
"It's a bit late for that - it already has."
"It already has! You mean...?"
Fortunately there was no one sat near us so I was able to tell Helen how Steve and I became lovers at Paul's instigation. I hadn't the courage to tell Helen exactly what happened. I would never forget that decisive evening and Paul holding me down while Steve ignored my protests and ripped my knickers off. Prior to that Paul had been the only man I'd had sex with, but Steve had fucked me once that evening and again the following morning when Paul had insisted that I go to his bedroom.
I'm quite a conservative person and the thought of taking a lover had never appealed to me. My lack of experience hadn't bothered me and I'd said to Paul that one man was probably very like another. Well that night with Steve had changed things. I wouldn't have done it if Paul hadn't virtually forced me, but I had to admit that I had enjoyed it. The conversation with Helen brought it all back and had quite an arousing effect on me. I thought back to that evening and could almost feel the rigid force of Steve's cock and the blazing heat as he came inside me. The fact that in a few hours I would be in Steve's bed, spreading my legs for him was a hugely exciting thought.
Helen's reaction was an interesting mixture of disapproval and envy. I could understand that and to be honest if the roles had been reversed I think that is how I would have felt. But I've always enjoyed sex and with my husband's encouragement I've found that taking a lover has been a very positive experience. Certainly I didn't feel the guilt which I thought might have bothered me and in fact the relationship between Paul and I has moved on to a much more intimate level since that night when he urged Steve to fuck me.
You won't be surprised to find that Helen sat next to me on the plane and quietly asked me various questions; fortunately the plane was only half full so we were able to chat. It turned out that her own marriage was fine, but it sounded like their sex life was in a rut – weekends only, missionary position – and that's it. It did make me feel a little smug – my case had some smart clothes, a selection of sexy underwear and I was going to spend the weekend being wined, dined and ravished by my lover.
Looking back it seems a bit reckless to discuss intimate details with a stranger, but I felt our paths were unlikely to cross again and anyway I instinctively liked Helen and trusted her. She seemed very interested in the detail and I surprised myself by my willingness to confide in her. She asked me if Steve would use a condom and I said no. Neither of us liked them and I was safe and was happy that Steve was clean. Helen was surprised when I told her that Paul had a definite preference for Steve riding me bareback.
"Really? He doesn't mind if Steve comes inside you?
"Not at all. Paul's exact words were that as far as he's concerned I won't have been fucked properly unless I've got a load of sperm in my pussy."
I think we would have chatted for hours, but London to Glasgow is only a short flight and in no time we were preparing to land. Steve was meeting me at the airport and Helen asked if I minded if we came out together, she said she just had to see what he looked like. As soon as I came through the arrivals gate I saw Steve and waved to him. I introduced him to Helen and explained she had kept me company on the flight. Helen and I said our goodbyes and as I hugged her she whispered "Have fun!" in my ear.
We were soon in Steve's car and heading out of Glasgow. He'd realised that Helen and I had exchanged some girly confidences and seemed to quite like the sexy, flirtatious tone it gave to the weekend.
When we got to his home I had a tour. It was a two bedroom flat and the main bedroom had a king-sized bed and an ensuite bathroom with a large shower cubicle. He'd cleared out a couple of drawers for me, so I unpacked all my things and got a quick shower. Before that I gave Paul a quick ring and told him the journey had been fine.
After I'd showered I slipped a turquoise bra and pants set on and my black robe. Steve was sat in the lounge on the settee. We'd hugged and exchanged a quick kiss before, but now we kissed properly. Inevitably Steve's hand slipped inside my robe and began to feel my breasts, but when he tried to slip a hand inside my knickers I stopped him. I knew it would be better if we saved it for later and Steve agreed though he said it would be difficult to keep his hands off me.
We went out for a meal and got back to Steve's at about 10pm and although we had sex that night, the Saturday night was more memorable, so I hope it's OK if I tell you about that instead.
Saturday morning was rather lazy and then in the afternoon we went to the Kelvingrove gallery and museum and had a stroll around, and yes we did see that famous painting by Salvador Dali.
I said I'd get the first shower, but I hadn't been in very long when Steve opened the door and got in with me. Fortunately it was a nice big shower cubicle so space wasn't a problem. Showering together is something Paul and I do occasionally and I was more than happy to share one with Steve. There's something very sensual about all that hot water and the soapy suds making everything slippery and exciting. Steve rubbed shower gel on my breasts and bush and washed me very thoroughly. Then it was my turn to get a load of shower gel on my hands and wash his cock.
He was already erect, but my attentions gave him a hard-on like an iron bar. I don't know if I'm the same as other women, but I do find an erect cock very arousing. It's so bold and forceful and of course it's erect because of me, so in a sense it's a compliment to me.
Anyway Steve asked me to turn round and put my palms flat against the wall. I did that and knowing full well what he had in mind I spread my legs and stuck my bottom out to make the angle easier for him. His cock rubbed against my cunt lips and then firmly and forcefully he penetrated me. I do like being taken from behind, in fact it's my favourite position and this was very nice. It was almost too nice because I didn't want Steve to cum inside me; being practical I didn't feel like walking round all evening with sperm leaking out of me. So I suggested to Steve that he should save himself for later and he was happy to do that.
Once I was out of the shower and part way through getting dressed I remembered my promise to text Paul and keep him up to date, so I reached for my phone and tapped out a message:
Hi. I've just been fucked in the shower. Off to the restaurant soon. Luv u. xxxxx
Putting my phone back down on the unit I glanced at Steve and he smiled, knowing full well what sort of message I had just sent.
We had a table booked at an Italian restaurant and we got a taxi there. It was a lovely place with the sort of cosy, intimate atmosphere that perfectly suited our weekend. I sent another text to Paul telling him we had just arrived at the restaurant. My phone beeped a few seconds later and it was a text from Paul asking what I had chosen to wear. He does take an interest in my clothes and a special interest in my choice of lingerie. I quite like that, I know some of my friends have husbands who don't care and that always seems rather depressing to me. Anyway I replied to Paul.
Navy blue dress, turquoise bra and pants, white lace-topped hold-ups.
I didn't have too long to wait before another text arrived.
Why don't you remove your knickers and pass them to Steve. I'm sure it would excite him.
I had to suppress a smile when I read that. I should explain that going knickerless in public was something that I had done a few times at Paul's request. It certainly turned him on and I must admit that I got a bit of a kick out of it as well.
Nevertheless I dismissed it as too forward for this occasion. However as the meal wore on the temptation to surprise Steve became irresistible. At the end of the main course I excused myself and went to the loo. Sat in the cubicle I removed my lacy turquoise knickers, screwed them up in my hand and returned to our table. I waited a minute or two then asked Steve to reach his hand out under the table. He gave me a puzzled look.
