Lue to Lucy and Bac - Complete and Expanded

Lue To Lucy And Back (EDITED) -- A story about a wife who wandered

Lue's story was originally submitted in 2015 as a five-part series. Because it was written in the first person, it reflected Lue's own moral standpoint. That hasn't changed in this re-edited version of her story.

The five chapters attracted quite a bit of comment, much of which suggested that the story was written from not just a moral standpoint, but from a somewhat immoral one. These comments weren't the ones that led to the story being re-edited. Lue did what she did and that has not changed in any way at all. Readers who didn't like her before won't like her any more now.

But some of the comments were about the story's structure and character development. In response to these comments, the five chapters have been combined into this single story and a few extra points were added which may help flesh out the characters just a little more.

**********

I have a man who is not my husband in the marital bed

Ahhh, bliss. Awake, just; lying peacefully on my side after a deep and satisfying sleep. Dawn is breaking outside the window, casting only the dimmest light into the bedroom. It has been a very warm night; no more than a sheet is needed for covering, and any extra warmth I might need is supplied by the body snuggled up firmly against my back. There is an arm lying loosely across my waist, which occasionally wanders up so that a hand may gently massage a breast. Then it moves over to the other one. After a while it wanders down over my tummy and fingers rake through the fur on my mound.

A little while ago I had lifted my leg to allow the hard penis which had been pressing against me so insistently to find the entrance it was seeking. With my leg lowered, this ramrod is now wedged firmly within the slick walls of my vagina. All is quiet. Bliss.

Then, a noise. The bedroom door opens and a figure carefully makes its way to the wardrobe and reaches inside. The wandering hand withdraws with amazing speed and the arm couldn't have vanished more completely if it had been amputated. The ramrod which had been filling me so satisfyingly shrank, turned into a marshmallow and slipped out. The body which had been pressing against me tried, not very successfully, to put some distance between his front and my back.

The figure walked from the wardrobe around to where I was lying. He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. "Sorry Lue," my husband said, "I forgot to get a tie when I took my things last night. I'm off now. I'll see you later this afternoon."

"OK Don, seeya then."

I listened to his footsteps retreating down the hall and the front door closing. Then I had a fit of the giggles. A voice behind me, "Oh Shit!"

My teasing retort, "what do you mean, 'oh shit'?" I rolled over to face him, and reached down to give the marshmallow a squeeze.

"Do you think he knew what we were doing?" There was panic in his voice.

"I'd say he had a fair idea," I said. "When he agreed last night that he would sleep in the spare room so that I could have you in here, he wasn't thinking we needed the big bed to make space for a scrabble board."

I was still teasing him. A pause, then, "yes, but we were doing it when he walked in, do you think he saw?"

"I'd say he knew. And you couldn't have got much closer up behind me without putting it in."

Silence, then, "Ahh Fark!"

"What now?" I said.

"I was in you from behind. You don't think he might have thought that I was in ..."

I cut him off. "Definitely not! He knows I don't do that. We tried it once and I'll never do it again. If I won't let Don put it in there, I'm certainly not going to let you do it. He knows that. Just stop worrying."

I don't think he really stopped worrying, but I had other things I needed to do. "Now, I've got to finish what you started, and you can't be in this bedroom when the kids wake up. We don't have a lot of time, so on your back."

I kicked the sheet off the bed, sat up and admired his muscular body. There was no part of him I hadn't seen and explored before, but little thrills shot through me every time I looked at him naked. It was a body that should have been available only to his wife, just as convention said that mine belonged to my husband, but every chance we had we absolutely smashed those conventions.

He rolled over flat on his back, with his arms above his head. I leaned over and cupped one hand under his scrotum and placed the other over his flaccid penis. Rolling his testicles in their sac and squeezing his soft shaft soon brought things to life and the ramrod was on its way back to working order. I pressed it down flat on his belly and nibbled along the underside. When I released it, it stood up and I licked around the head. I loved playing with it, pulling the foreskin back hard to emphasise the ridge around the glans. It felt powerful in my hands. It would feel even more so soon, when I had it inside me.

I reached across to the jar of skin cream I kept on the bedside table and scooped out a few fingerfuls. I rubbed the cream over the head, down the shaft and around his scrotum, and the ramrod grew even harder as I did so.

"Why are you greasing him up? You never needed it before," he said.

"It's not lubricant, it's wrinkle cream," I replied. "I thought if your cock and balls were nice and smooth and free of wrinkles it would look better when you have it all on display in the locker room."

I don't think he caught my weak attempt at humour, but he seemed to enjoy what I was doing anyhow. The skin cream game was one I had learned together with my husband Don. Spreading it all over his penis and around his scrotum was something we both enjoyed. Don liked the feeling of slippery hands and fingers, and I loved playing with it and knowing that it was growing into readiness to perform because of what I was doing.

I'm all in favour of play-sex. Sex should be fun, as well as being an erotic experience. And there are times when I can be quite happy to just have the fun without going all the way to the mind-blowing climax. But this time I wanted much more than just sexy play.

It was time. He was ready for it. I was unbelievably so. The tension inside me had been building since coitus interruptus fifteen minutes ago. If I had been slick then when he slipped out of me, I was super-wet now. I needed him back inside me. I lifted up and straddled him, reaching down between my legs to grasp his shaft and run the head back and forth within my cleft. Then I positioned it at the entrance to my vagina.

I dropped down just far enough for the head to penetrate. The ridge clicked through the firm ring within my entrance. I lifted up and the ridge clicked out again. I love that feeling. It's a tease - tormenting him while I'm pleasuring myself - so I bobbed up and down several times before dropping down and taking him all the way up inside me. I wriggled my hips to and fro and side to side to get the last millimetre or two in and I sat up straight, feeling the full length of him filling my vagina. It was probably my imagination, but I was sure he was pressing into parts of me that my husband's penis had never touched. It certainly felt different.

I leaned forward, draping a breast across his face. He took the nipple in his mouth and bit it. I pulled back and offered him the other one. It received the same treatment. I pulled it away too and then lay almost flat on him. I had done this once before, and that time had not quite produced the climax I had hoped for. But the feeling of control that being on top gave me was a real turn-on, and I wanted to try it again.

I pushed back to get my mound grinding against him and his penis pressing against the sensitive upper wall of my vagina. I could feel pressure on my clitoris. A few minutes with just a little up and down, some back and forth and side to side, and I was on the edge. I could feel the tingling radiating from my core throughout my body. My shoulders shrugged and my legs stiffened in advance of the orgasm that would soon crash over me.

He beat me to it. He had been thrusting up from below to meet my movements on top of him, then he suddenly stopped. His body went rigid and he grunted as he shot the first jet of his semen deep inside my body. Then he went wild, writhing and thrusting from underneath me as he pumped more and more up into my vaginal canal. It tripped me over the brink.

My orgasms are not noisy, fortunately, but they are intense. They start with a tingling and tightening of muscles, leading to a whole-body spasm and muscular release. My husband says he has seen my toes curl when I am about to climax. My toes must have tied themselves in knots for this one. I lost track of time while my body shimmered and twisted on top of his, then we both went limp, my weight pressing down on him.

Slowly I became aware that one part of him had not relaxed completely. His penis was still erect and inside me. Maybe not as hard as before, but it wasn't showing any signs of slipping out any time soon. He rolled us over so that he was on top. He drew his hips back slowly, then lowered them down again. I could feel the shaft withdrawing until only the head was inside me, then moving all the way back into what must have been a rather full cavity, what with both our juices deep inside. It wasn't long before he was back to full ramrod hardness and, incredibly, I was just as ready with my arms and legs wrapped around him and my heels digging into the back of his legs urging him to enter more deeply into my wet and very willing vagina.

This time I lay there and let him do all the work, and he certainly put a lot of energy into fucking me. (That is not a word I use very often, but there is no other way of describing what he was doing to me. Fuck. I was being fucked. He was fucking me - hard.) Once again I lost track of time as he pounded me into the mattress. Once again I felt the tingling of an almost-there orgasm. He groaned. I knew that signal as once again his body went rigid. This time I was there first as I went over the crest for the second time that morning. I gripped him tightly with my arms and clamped his hips between my legs. He was only seconds behind me, delivering a second load to add to what he had pumped into me the first time.

He stayed there pressing me down. Then, after a while he rolled off me. "Wow," I said, "that was amazing."

"Yes," he said, "you really are."

"Not me," I replied, "it was you that did all the work the second time."

"No," he said, "it was you that made me do it. It's a long time since I've come twice without de-cunting." This boy has a way with words. But I was glowing with pride, or something like it. This sexy man appreciated me as a sexy woman. It was because of me that he had come twice without de-cunting. Not only that, I also climaxed twice. This was something that had never ever happened to me before.

How had it come to this? Here I was, a wife and mother, with a man who was not my husband - indeed another woman's husband - in the marital bed. But I didn't have time to think about that right now. It was almost time for the kids to wake up, and for me to return to my role as mother. "Time to go," I said. "You are supposed to be in the spare room, and I have to get the kids' breakfast."

He left and I crab-walked to the bathroom, trying my best to hold my legs together to keep his semen inside me until I could get a towel and wipe myself dry between my legs. I felt no guilt. Morning glory - what a wonderful way to start the day.

A year ago I was a wife and mother who, to all appearances, led a reasonably happy and rather ordinary life. What I was doing now was far from ordinary. It had been an interesting year.

**********

From wife and mother to sexy and desirable

What I am relating here happened about half a lifetime ago. I was 33, Luellen wife of Donald (still am), mother of three children aged 4 to 7 (they are adults now with kids of their own).

My life up to that time had mostly followed the good-girl script: Do well at school, go on to university, meet Donald and fall in love, finish uni and get a good job in a commercial laboratory, marry Don and settle down with a house and mortgage, have children and leave work to become a stay-at-home wife and mother.

My sex life varied just a little from the good-girl norm. Don and I were virgins when we met, but that didn't last long. Sex before marriage was still frowned upon in the so-called swinging sixties, but many of us (most?) were at it. Don and I had a bad scare one month when my period ran late, so I made a visit to the family doctor and after a long and embarrassing interview and an equally embarrassing physical examination, I had a scrip for the oral contraceptive.

Once I was safely on the pill, Don and I took every opportunity for sex we could get. These opportunities were somewhat limited before we married because we both lived with our parents, so we had to go parking and do it in a car (uncomfortable), or wait until one set of parents or the other were out to do it at home (nervously worrying about somebody coming home unexpectedly).

We made up for missed opportunities in the first few years of our marriage when we had a home of our own. But like many couples, I suppose, our love-making gradually settled from the excitement of those first few years. As time went on, sex was mostly initiated by Don, with "Care for a cuddle?"

Our children were planned. After a few years when we decided we were financially secure enough, I stopped taking the pill and pregnancy followed soon after. When we had three lovely kids, we decided that was enough so I went to the clinic and had an IUD inserted.

Don's career progressed well, and with what we both were earning in the early years we were ahead with our mortgage payments. We decided that he could follow his dream and branch out into his own business working from home. This was also successful, so when our children arrived I was able to quit work and do the administrative work for the business so that Don could be out doing more paid time with clients.

This went well for several years until the economy suffered a downturn and business fell away alarmingly. We both became worried and irritable, the love between us was getting jaded, and sex became a rarity. Don was now at home more than he was out with clients, so I decided that I would go back to work to help with the family finances and I started searching for a job.

Fortunately, within a few weeks there was an advertisement for the perfect job. I applied, was interviewed and employed the following week. I became Quality Control technician in a factory, so it was back to laboratory work. What made it perfect for my situation was that it was afternoon shift, starting at 3pm and finishing at 11. I could get the kids off to school in the morning while Don was out with clients, and he could be home for them in the afternoons and evenings while I was at work. The factory was a bit distant from home, but in the afternoon there was little traffic and I could drive there in about half an hour.

I did checks of raw materials first thing in the shift, and then through the evening I made several trips around the factory taking samples of each process and the finished products. Most of the time I was doing analysis and writing reports in the QC lab. There were only eighteen people on the afternoon shift, so I soon came to know everybody. Ben the shift foreman, Trevor the maintenance fitter and I were the three most senior people, there were thirteen men in production and warehouse, and two women in the packing room.

At dinner time people had their own little groups sitting around tables. The previous QC person had always sat with Ben, Trevor and Ray, a process operator, so that was where I sat too. I soon became fascinated by Ray. Compared with my well-ordered life, his had been almost chaotic. He had worked on farms, prawn trawlers, fishing boats, trucks and in all sorts of labouring jobs before marrying a girl from the city, having a child and settling down in his present job. Dinner time conversations ranged over all sorts of topics, and after a few months I had learned a lot about Ben and Trevor, but they were very ordinary people compared with Ray. The new job meant that I saw much less of Don. He was often gone in the mornings before I woke up, and was asleep when I crawled into bed a bit before midnight. So our opportunities for conversation (and sex) were limited to weekends and days when he wasn't visiting clients. However, I now did have something to add to our conversations other than what the kids were doing and how the business was going. I was actually enjoying the job and the things that were happening at work gave me something different to talk about.

As the months went on, Don started commenting on how often I was mentioning Ray in our conversations about my work. I explained that Ray was a rough diamond and his life experiences had been so different to mine that I couldn't help but be fascinated by him. Don said "He sounds like an interesting bloke. I'd like to meet him some day."

I had been working at the factory for almost nine months when it was scheduled for maintenance and upgrading, which was to be done over a long weekend. All the production people had to take the Friday and Monday off so that the maintenance crew could work unhindered for four days.

Ben and Ray told me one evening that they planned to go out west to a property for the four days. They were going to camp out there and shoot rabbits. A friend of Ben's owned the farm and the rabbits were a problem.

I suggested to them that they should borrow my 'car', which was actually a kombi van. It was the model with windows and seats in the back and carpet on the floor and a sun roof; an ideal vehicle for a mum to transport her kids and their friends to sporting and social events. Don had also built beds to go in the back, which we used when our family went holiday camping.

I told Don about the plan and he suggested that Ben and Ray come to our place on the Friday morning, leave their car here and take the kombi. They arrived early on Friday and the three men worked together taking the seats out of the back of the van and putting the beds in. I had to go in to the factory for part of the day, so I took Don's car and left them to it. When I came home, Ray and Ben had gone and Don said "I can see what you mean about Ray. He really has packed a lot into his life. It's a credit to him that he's settled down, considering the rough start he had as a child."

On Monday afternoon they brought the kombi back and Don worked with them to put the seats back in. After they had gone he said "Ray sure is an interesting bloke. And he is really shook on you."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"He talked and talked about you, all the time he was here. He hasn't had anybody like you pay any interest in him before. He thinks you're incredibly smart and you don't treat him like he is a lesser human being. And he calls you Lucy. Where did he get that from?"

I told him I didn't know, it was just something that seemed to have happened.

On Tuesday afternoon I went back to work. For the rest of the week the dinnertime conversation was all about rabbit shooting and how great it was that I had lent them the kombi. On Friday night, when the shift finished, Ray and I stayed talking in the car park. After a while, the security man came around and told us to leave because he had to lock the front gate. Ray suggested that we could drive down to a bushland reserve a few streets away and keep talking. I followed him there; it was completely out of the way with no traffic going by. He pulled in between a few trees and I parked there too. He climbed into the kombi and I went through and sat beside him in the back seat.