Sincerely Scott

-the introduction-

I must confess now, looking back, that I do not regret the events I am going to relate, despite the far reaching consequences. I feel it turned me into the woman I had always longed to be: strong and assured, knowing, confident and able to face up to the not-so-nice-world.

It all began when I returned to our apartment, unexpectedly, to find Scott - my husband - reading through my personal diary. I was furious; not only because I feel that it is unfair to plunder someone's secret thoughts (I would have never perpetrated such a deed myself) but that he then had the audacity to confront me about one of the intimate and highly personal passages it contained.

"What the hell is all this Miya?" he scolded; holding up the diary by the offending page.

Admittedly, the single entry, which had befallen his eyes, was a fantasy I had concocted about sleeping with a male colleague - someone we both had known for years. A simple-fantasy. I had merely thought about what it would be like, how it would be different - to know what it would feel like to experience another man other than Scott. The man in the text was simply a means to bestow the fantasy some sense of reality.

I turned away, trying to conceal my overpowering annoyance towards his sneakiness. But I was angered by the incident. "How dare you do that!" I yelled at him, unable to meet his eyes.

I had been virgin before I met Scott. Previously I had only petted heavily with short-lived boyfriends; had been the recipient of intimate caresses, and had even occasionally grappled, hands on, with a few penises...but no sex. Up 'till Scott. This was why the entry had been made. A simple pondering on things I had no earthly insight of.

A stormy argument ensued; me complaining bitterly about his flagrant invasion of my privacy; and him enraged that I had dared imagine sex with another. How could I? But the harsh words ended soon after, with us viciously tearing each other's clothes off, looking to solve our differences in shared spontaneous passion. This is the point the fire was lit. As Scott began to groan due to my rough, heated handling, he begged me to call out the name from the diary - the name of the man I had fantasised about. I paused. He pleaded. I did. And found the thrill quite uplifting. My fantasy could be half lived, and with my husbands complete approval, and strangely enough, obvious delight. I cried out, imagining another man - the man from the diary entry - plunging into me. Our sex was wild but short lived, as Scott soon squealed, letting fluids release into my covetous cunt.

Scott and I had been married for only a year at the time this all took place. We were both still relatively young; me at nineteen, and him just a year older. Already our sex life had petered out. His lack of imagination leading to my lack of enthusiasm being the reasons for our somewhat unadventurous activity.

I was somewhat dispirited that, with being so young, I had missed out on so much, and had offered my future to Scott with little consideration.

When we had first started dating, and up to losing my virginity to him, Scott would talk frequently of his experiences with previous girlfriends; of his knowledge on the exploration of the female form - his frequent encounters and success with many women. Without as much as saying the words, and bragging too much, he implied that he was skilled and knew everything that any woman desired. I had known him for years before we even ended up being romantically involved. We had grown up in the same town, had been friends with the same people; it had felt the right thing to do, the perfect combination when we eventually became a couple.

I do, however, remember our first time together - in his basement - me with, my pants and trousers caught tightly around my ankles - and him a nervous wreck, and still trying to reassure me. His cock, still flaccid, took so much coaxing, and it was hardly really worth the wait. I eventually took the initiative, seeing, at last, an erection almost surfacing. I straddled him, and we gyrated together clumsily until he unconvincingly, came inside of me. I often feel like it was actually Scott who was the virgin, and me who was leading the way.

To tell you the truth, I didn't even know it was done; but whatever it was, was over with before it began, without the fuss, or any of the sensations I had envisaged. I was not sad; just mildly disappointed that despite all Scott's past experience, my introduction to sex had not been as earth shattering as I had dreamed of.

I even took the responsibility of showing him exactly where my clitoris was positioned, ushering his clumsy fingers, and demonstrating how to touch it. This way, at least, I could attain some semblance of pleasure for our first and many subsequent times together.

So after being married for this year, I began to have these notions about filling in the gap (so to speak). Merely notions. I wasn't really the kind of girl who would have actively sought out a man to solve this anxiousness and blatant curiosity crisis. I do love Scott for other attributes besides his sexual prowess (or lack of it). I did however, begin to remind him often that his secret was out...that I realised he was not the Casanova he once lead me to believe. This, I think, tickled insecurity inside him. And into the bargain, it turned him on, knowing I, despite my lack of experience, am the one who had gained the upper hand.

"Please Miya tell me what you would do with him," he pleaded, wanting to know more of my thoughts regarding the entry within the diary. "Do you think he is bigger than me?"

The diary incident had really fuelled this fantasy. Scott obsessed with the image of another man doing a finer job of relinquishing my virginity than he did; of filling me to complete satisfaction; of how I would react to an unfamiliar touch, and ultimately, taking a lover for my own personal needs.

I had to reply 'yes' to this; and to be perfectly honest; the friction I obtain from the various positions we try is very little. I began to assume that the depth Scott reached inside me could be viewed as sufficient, it was the thickness that left we wanting. When I reached full arousal, my lips parting to their fullest, I could barely feel him enter between them. The more I wanted, the more I became frustrated. I knew I needed more. Now he beheld this exigency as well.

A week or so passed beyond the diary incident. One evening, totally out of the blue, Scott walked in on me whilst I dried after taking a shower.

"Do you enjoy sex Miya?" he asked, staring whilst I ran a small towel over my damp breasts.

"What exactly do you mean honey?" I replied, wanting to tell him that I felt I hadn't really experienced real sex. He was calm, a hazed look about his focused eyes. I continued to dry. "Do you want to hear me tell you that I continually fantasise about having a lover, a skilled lover, one that understands my needs, my body. One that can make me come on request. A man Scott."

He simply whispered, "yes".

"Wank off and show me that is what you desire darling," I said, letting the words pour out slow and hoarse.

I stood before him completely nude, and I knew the sight of my breasts, slightly damp, nipples alert, would drive him wild. He produced his cock, already hard, and proceeded to massage the foreskin vigorously back and fourth. His eyes half closed, his breathing rapid.

"I have been," I continued. "I have had lovers, many of them, all so much better than you darling. So much bigger than you; able to last; to ensure that I come while they pound away at my oh-so-eager body. Scott they have at least learned from their experience. They all seem to know how to offer me ecstasy." The more I continued to speak, the faster his hand moved, until a final grown emanated from his lips and a white streak of fluid danced fourth form his pitiful cock, dangling and separating, some resting on the carpet at our feet.

My own desire had been elevated. I needed release, and promptly directed Scott's head between my legs. Now on the bathroom floor, I curled my long legs around his shoulders, pushing forcibly until his tongue located where I needed it. He lapped my moistness eagerly, and continued, as I demanded, for an age. Pictures recoiled through my mind, images of being taken by another man, put under his control, viewing his enormous cock, glistening, desirous, and entering me, stretching me, showing me expertise a real man can offer. As I clutched the back of his head and pressed, his efforts finally allowed me to reach an orgasm.

"Christ Scott, it doesn't take them as long," I remarked whilst I came. I noticed his erection reappearing, and as he drew his head back. He attempted to position his body over me, ready to enter into my saturated cunt. "No darling," I said, "I don't require that now," and pushed him back to his feet, grabbing the towel to conceal my nakedness.

Since the tone of our sex life was then set, we continued to act out this scenario very often. Scott would simply masturbate whilst I described what my, then, imaginary lovers had done for me. This seemed to be enough for him to get the release he required, but for me, despite his tongue eventually getting me there, the orgasms gradually took longer, and appeared weaker, leaving me quite unfulfilled. There had to be more.

-the learning curve-

I would never be so bold as to describe myself as overly beautiful. Sure I am tall (at 6ft,I am the same height as Scott) and I have always been slim, which I suppose makes my breasts seem larger than they are. Scott incessantly tells me how splendid he thinks my tit's are: just the sight of a single nipple renders him helpless, and he then becomes so easy for me to control how I want.

I suppose I am, sexually, a naturally dominant person. But this does not translate so convincingly to everyday life. Since my sex life, up to this point, had only included Scott, I had no earthly idea if I would act similarly within a different setting; given an alternative stimulus.

Suddenly the cravings got stronger. My body, the intrinsic tendencies provided by nature - allowing me the ability to ensure I could ensnare any mate. I was intensely aware of a distinct aroma arising from between my legs, stronger than usual, almost like an animal on heat, with one distinct objective - to take a new lover. The instinct inherent within any simple female mitochondrion DNA cell, offered, through generations of evolution. Put simply, nature preparing me to procreate. An unfortunate time for these feelings to be thrust upon me. Nineteen years old; a desire to be unfaithful to my new husband (and only lover). And a craving to be swollen with a child. A dangerous mixture of thoughts.

I told Scott of my unrestrained desire to offer our new found fantasies some reality. I wished to take a lover, simply, to heighten the thrill, to quench my own unyielding curiosity. He could not have agreed more fervently, saying that, 'it was only fair' - 'he had experienced other lovers. Why not me?'

I was ready to begin.

No opportunities arose immediately. You would think that an attractive, young and willing woman on the look out for some male company, especially with one intention in mind, would find an over-abundance of willing takers. But, most saw me as 'attached', and so, unavailable.

The first incident happened at a friends wedding reception, where I was serving as chief bridesmaid. I sat at the head table next to Ian, the grooms brother and best man. I wore a very-modern short bridesmaid dress, which may have been a sensible length on a female not as tall as myself, but on me it revealed an excessive amount leg. Scott sat at one of the other tables, and, due to the amount of flesh I had been displaying throughout the ceremony, I was aware of him eyeing me hungrily - knowing that he would be thrilled at how I devoured so much attention.

But I sat, sipping champagne, and nibbling on the food provided, with, at least, the draping tablecloth concealing exactly how much the short dress had risen. This saved my blushes, and ensured the other diners facing the table were unable to see the expanse of thigh, and even the slight curve of bottom, I was so conscious of, whilst I tried to sit as still as possible with legs firmly crossed.

After delivering his best man speech, and offering a toast to the bridesmaids, Ian sat back down, lounging confidently in his seat. He rocked the chair slowly on two legs, ensuring on the backwards sway that he managed to take in as much of the view of my bared legs as he could. I was wholly conscious of his efforts to see more with every movement. I continued to sit in an unaltered position, until he ceased the swinging and engaged me in conversation - moving perilously close beside me. It was obvious he'd had a fair amount to drink, but doing my duty as bridesmaid, I was charming and tactful in response to his intelligible babble. He made the conversation more intimate, flattering me, turning to offer me his complete personal attention.

Eventually, with complete calmness, he rested a hand on the bared knee of my crossed leg. One finger lightly traced the contour, over the knee, turning inwards to the available area of inner thigh. I coughed falsely, turning my head to ensure no one was witnessing this bold intrusion onto my person.

Everyone around us continued to chat idly and finish up their drinks. Scott spoke diffidently to a couple, looking bored, completely unknowing. My heart accelerated as Ian's hand came to rest, palm down, on the top of my exposed thigh. I squeezed my legs tight, suddenly aware of a tingling sensation emanating from where I felt the heat of his still hand. I uncrossed my legs - smiling at the people around me - offering an invitation. He quickly withdrew his hand, at first not sensing my signal, then realising, as I grabbed his wrist, offering, not resistance, but assistance back to a more accommodating angle atop my thigh.

Back on me now, only with more accessibility, he gently roamed his hand between my, now, slightly parted, legs. I spread them further as he stroked the front of my panties. From there, down and under, edge to edge - over the material. I knew I was moist, and he could feel it, as he continued the movement. It was the way he looked at me that made me melt - as if he would have taken me right there in front of everyone - despite the consequences. But abruptly the meal was concluded and Scott was at my side ready to escort me through to the reception hall. Whilst he chatted, asking if I enjoyed the meal, Ian's finger slid past the elastic side of my panties and burrowed through the dampness into my aching cunt. As he wiggled his finger, I squirmed in the seat, finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the conversation with Scott. He was oblivious to the hand between my legs. Both Ian and I looked ahead, me talking as normally as I was able.

Throughout the evening, he asked me frequently for dances, and I obliged, not mentioning what had happened at the table - he pressed against me as often as was decent in company - as Scott looked on - and at one point, I actually felt his hardness pressing into me. But he was becoming steadily more drunk, and soon after disappeared from sight.

The time came to change out of the bridesmaid dress, so I found the room where I'd left my bag and proceeded to change.

"Miya are you decent?" I heard a voice outside the door.

"Hold on," I hollered in response, spying a towel to conceal the fact I only just had my underwear on. "It's open. Come on in."

It was David, the bridegroom, who showed complete embarrassment as he saw me standing with a towel wrapped around my body.

"Oh Sorry Miya," he jumped, turning his head out of politeness.

"Hey it's all right David, don't you be shy. You're a married man now."

"I just wanted to apologise for Ian," he said, still not able to turn and face me. "I noticed him all over you on the dance floor. He's quite drunk - In fact he's had to go now, so don't worry about him annoying you."

"David it's fine, don't worry about it. It was quite amusing really."

"But I doubt Scott was best pleased about it. Apologise to him for us would you." He managed to turn to me and smile.

I changed the subject. "How are you feeling now that you're married then?" I asked him, deciding I would continue to change. I let the towel go, standing only in a bra and pants, looking around for the skirt I'd taken form my bag.

"Well right now, I'm wishing I wasn't a married man," he commented; now gawking at my semi-undress. I laughed. "Now I see why Ian was all over you."

"David don't embarrass me, " I lied, knowing the champagne I'd drunk throughout the evening was causing this display. "Pass me that top," I asked, pointing to the bed where some of my clothes had been scattered.

"God Scott is a lucky guy, " he began to say. "If you don't mind me saying, you've got an awesome body." He handed me the clothes, making no attempt to conceal that he was taking in the sight.

I laughed again. "He especially likes these." In one swift move, I'd unclipped and let fall the bra I wore. I took the blouse from his outstretched hand, and put one arm into a sleeve. "I never wear a bra with this top," I told him. "Hope I am not offending you." I continued to put the blouse on, not once taking my eyes form his. I left the buttons deliberately undone. "Now where is that skirt?"

"Miya, this is driving me wild," he stated as I peered about the room. "God, what a beautiful body you have."

"Like it David?" I moved over to him and took hold of one of his hands. Taking his middle finger, I brought it to one of the nipples peeking out from between the unfastened blouse. "Look what you've done," I whispered. "It's gone hard."

Before I knew it I was frog marched over to the bed and thrown down amongst the scattering of clothes that lay on the surface. Both of his large hands, finding my body to be responsive, began to eagerly explore across the revealed swell of my breasts. He pulled the unbuttoned blouse apart as he pressed forcibly into me. I wrapped my legs tightly around him, like a possessed force had been unleashed, eagerly thrusting my hips against his. I was aware of his cock, still below his clothes, hard but so prominent. I rubbed over the front of his trousers, finally getting around to unbuttoning, and carefully sliding down his trouser zip. The first thing I recall is the tip of his cock, when in sight, was extremely wet. I thought at first that maybe he had ejaculated; but he was so very hard, and I was instantly aware of the thickness it possessed - and smoothness - not overly and obviously covered with veins - but so sleek to the touch. He removed my panties, sliding them down and pulling over my feet.

He lay back on me. I reached my hands between us, and eased his cock, which was till only poking through his trouser fly, inside. As he thrust into me, slowly, controlled, evenly - I think I came immediately - It certainly was a different sensation; sending a warmth from my vagina, around the whole area, which drifted up my body right through my stomach - tingling over me. Every time he pushed his hips against me, I'm sure he elevated further; deeper. The way in which it was different from what I know, am used to, was the immediate thrill. Whereas Scott's cock is as longish, I think, it certainly was not as substantial; wide, I suppose - solid. This, I see now, was the difference in the sensation - I recall the feeling of being stretched, widened - so nice to experience, such a real feeling - beautiful - warmth, floating radiance about me - I was in a flush, considerably - almost losing control, as I gripped and pushed back to every plunge.