Something Happened

This is the second part of my story. You don't have to read Part 1, but if you do you'll have some background for this story.

I woke up earlier than I usually do, my mind roiling with the tale Connie had told me as we went to bed, about the night of reckless sexual abandon she had enjoyed with another man, many years before. We're old and retired now, but she had filled in the blanks about what really happened on a night 30 years ago when she didn't come home.

I lay in bed for a while, trying to decide how I felt about the whole thing. I rolled over to look at Connie in bed beside me, and discovered that she wasn't there. I got up and went to the kitchen and found her sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her.

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked. Connie often suffers from insomnia, perhaps because of the meds she now takes to control the back pain that has taken over her life.

She looked up at me, red eyed. "Patrick, I have carried the burden of worry with me for 30 years, relieved that you didn't know what happened that night, but knowing that sometime I was going to have to tell you. Last night you asked, and I told you the whole story. Get yourself a cup of coffee, and let's go out to the living room and talk."

I did as she asked, and we walked to the living room. The sun was coming up and through the picture window we could see that it promised to be a beautiful sunny day. She sat down on the couch, and I went to sit next to her. "You might want to sit over there until you hear what I have to say," she said, pointing to a side chair. I moved away from her and sat on the chair.

"Last night I told you what really happened that night after the bar," she said, "and you took it pretty well, because you had already suspected that something like that had probably happened - maybe not the fucking part, but some kind of action.

"Now that I have had the burden of that secret lifted from me, I have to tell you about something else - and this one is going to be harder to take."

I swallowed hard. "Go on," I said.

She began:

You remember that weekend when you dropped me at the hotel in Chicago to hang out with Vicki? You went on to Lake Forest to visit your brother.

(I told her I remembered it well. Connie's long-time friend was manager of a department store in Illinois, and had called Connie to tell her she'd be in Chicago on a buying trip for the annual rollout of the new fashions, and invited her to come spend the weekend with her. We had driven from Michigan and I had let her out at the hotel door - parking was a hassle and she told me I didn't have to come in. As she got out of the car I made a joke about not getting too close to the window, because she has a fear of heights and Vicki's room was on the 19th floor.)

Okay, also you remember that when we had troops overseas for Operation Desert Storm - the first war in Iraq - there was an appeal for people to write letters to our soldiers who were lonesome in the desert. I wrote a letter, and I got a reply from the Army Reserve major who had been given my letter. He wrote a nice reply thanking me for taking the trouble. He gave me his APO address, and we exchanged several letters after that, remember?

Again, I confirmed that I remembered that, because I was glad that she had been so generous with her time for a stranger. She referred to him as "my major" whenever she mentioned him.

Well what you didn't know is that we didn't only exchange a few letters. We continued to write to each other, even after he got back to the states and resumed his civilian life. As time went by our letters got pretty familiar. While he was overseas I had sent him some pictures. This was before the era of selfies, but one day when you were at work I dressed kinda sexy, I thought, and I told our neighbor Beth that I wanted some pictures for you, and she took some with our camera. I took the film to Walgreen's and had it developed. I couldn't do anything really sexy because the store would not have developed them, so these were just cheesecake shots. And he sent me some pictures of himself. He looked so manly in his uniform, tanned by the desert sun - trim and fit and confident.

One day, months after the war was over and he was back in the States, he wrote me and mentioned he would be in Chicago on business, and wished I could meet him there so we could connect in person. I wrote back and told him I couldn't, but maybe another time. His next letter told me he had been called up again and would be going back overseas for a few months.

At any rate, six months later I got a letter from him and he said he was back in the States and he really wanted to meet me in Chicago. He told me the name of the hotel and when he would be there. I called Vicki wondering what I should do, and she and I concocted the story about fashion week and that I would be staying with her.

God, Patrick, I was so excited. I felt guilty about deceiving you, but after all those letters and feeling as though we had a real connection, I just felt like I needed to meet my major in person and spend some time with him. I love you, but sometimes we seem to be stuck in a rut, and that was one of those times. I have given up so much of myself to our marriage - my career as a news reporter, moving with you for your jobs, tied down at home with our daughter when she was small - I felt the need to be independent for once and do what I wanted for myself rather than what we needed for us. And honestly, I did not expect anything like what happened.

So I told you the story Vicki and I had come up with. She even gave me her mobile phone number for me to give to you if you needed to call me. She said if I ever called she would say you were in the shower or something then call me to let me know to call you back.

While you were at work the week leading up to the weekend I got my hair done, got a manicure and pedicure, carefully shaved and trimmed, and picked out some nice new clothes. I told you I wanted to look nice so Vicki's co-workers I'd be meeting would think well of her friend.

Friday finally came, you bugged out of work early, and we drove to Chicago. I don't think you even noticed that rather than my usual slouchy traveling clothes I was wearing a new dress. The skirt was a little shorter than I usually wear, and the top was cut a little lower. Not exactly sexy, but you could catch the curve of my breasts. You also didn't know it, but I was wearing some sexy underwear - new matching lacy panties and bra. I didn't know just what was going to happen, but I wanted to feel pretty.

You let me out at the entrance to the hotel, and made a joke about how I should not look down from Vicki's window because of the height. I grabbed my bag from the back and a bell boy helped me into the lobby. My major, Tom, was sitting in one of the lounge chairs in the lobby, watching the door. When he saw me come in he rose, and walked toward me. We stood looking at each other, and awkwardly said "Hello" to each other. We had been pen pals for such a long time, and now we were finally going to be real pals. He reached out and we hugged a warm greeting. He slipped a $10 to the bellboy, gave him his room number, and asked him to take my bag up for me. Then he led me by the hand to to lobby bar to "wash down the dust from the road."

Oh my god he was handsome, Patrick. Tall, lean, muscular, tanned. He was dressed in a pale blue button-down shirt with tan slacks. And his shoes shined like mirrors. I don't want to say he was opposite of you, but your clothes are always wrinkled, you shoes scuffed, you hair messy - so yeah, he was opposite you. I had never heard his voice before - it was lower than I imagined, and he spoke with a slightly Southern accent. His manners were impeccable - gracious in a way that I was not used to. And so self-assured and confident ... Patrick he was the whole package. I was dazzled by his attention, and when he took my hand I was electrified by his touch.

We sat in the lobby bar for a while and had a couple of drinks. I told him about the drive, and he told me something about his business in the city. Finally he suggested we go into the restaurant for dinner. It was a nice place, and he ordered for both of us. We enjoyed a fine meal and continued our get-acquainted conversation. When I felt his hand reach for mine I reflexively pulled back at first, but when he tried a second time I accepted his touch and our fingers interlaced. Soon after that our legs were touching under the table. The long correspondence, the drinks, the atmosphere, the conversation all worked together to make us feel familiar.

Then, after he signed the tab we went upstairs to his room. We had each had wine with dinner, and as we walked to the elevator I felt a little light headed and giddy. We laughed at the littlest things. He had his arm around my waist as he guided me to the bank of elevators.

His room was actually a suite, large and very well appointed. He gave me a tour, showing me the kitchen area, the bathroom, and I saw that my luggage was in the bedroom. Tom led me through the living room and we stood by the large window gazing out on the lights of the city. His room faced east, so in the distance we could see lights from boats sparkling on Lake Michigan. He had his arm around me "so you won't fall out" he said, smiling, because I had told him about my problem with heights and your joke. There was a small balcony - he didn't even try to get me out there.

I looked up at him and said, "I'm happy to be here with you, Tom." Then I leaned my face up and kissed him. He held me in his arms. I could smell his manly aroma and his aftershave. I'm afraid after a day on the road I probably didn't smell as good to him. I think he and I both understood that kiss as agreement that we would go forward with a physical relationship.

"Why don't we work out the kinks in your back with a soak in the Jacuzzi?" he suggested. I was stiff from the long car ride, and this sounded like a great idea.

"I didn't think to pack a swimsuit," I told him, disappointed.

"That's okay, we don't need swimsuits," he replied. With that he reached behind me and began to ease down the zipper on my dress. I froze for a moment, but then reached up and

slipped it off my shoulders and let it fall to my feet. He leaned down, kissed my breasts, then unfastened my bra. I shrugged out of it, and helped him out of his shirt. Next came his trousers and underwear, and I got my first look at his rather large cock. He slid my panties over my hips and down, and soon we were standing there in front of the window, stark naked, each of us admiring the other one's body. And what a body he had - well muscled and lean - and so deeply tanned from the desert. Now Patrick, I have never commented on the size of your cock. From my experience it is very normal sized, very average. Adequate in every way, but not exceptional. My major, on the other hand, had a cock like none I had ever seen. It was at least eight inches relaxed, with nice girth. His pubic hair was nicely trimmed, and it looked as though he had shaved his ball sack.

He appeared to be pleased with what he saw when he looked at me, too. My boobs were still standing up proudly at that age, and while they are not big melons, he said they were just the right size for him. My extra effort at personal grooming seemed to have paid off as well, because he complimented me on how I looked.

We hugged again, and this time my breasts were pressing against his chest and his cock was pressed against me. It was very erotic and stimulating. He led me over to the Jacuzzi and got it going. "I've been practicing with the controls," he said, laughing. He gave me his hand and helped me climb into the tub, and then he climbed in after me. We sat on opposite sides, looking at each other as the warm jets of water massaged us. Tom had set the wine glasses on the side of the tub - oh, I forgot to mention he opened a bottle of champagne when we got to the room. The warm massage from the water jets and the calming effects of the wine had us feeling good in no time. We played footsie for a while, then I realized his foot was massaging the insides of my thighs. I reached across with my foot and played with his cock, pushing it back and forth with my toes and rubbing his balls. His foot began rubbing against my pussy. And all the time he was telling me how beautiful and sweet and funny and delightful I was. I was in heaven. It all felt so good. My head was buzzing and my whole body was being pleasured and I was lapping it up.

"Time for a shower, my dear," he said at last. He stood to help me out of the hot tub and I could see for the first time his cock standing at attention. Good soldier that it was, it stood straight and proud and about 10 inches. You could have hung a flag from it.

He helped me to the shower - an all clear glass enclosure big enough for two. And two of us went in. He made the water cooler than the hot tub and it felt fresh. Tom and I washed each other, getting acquainted with each other's bodies. He shampooed my hair, massaging and working it, rubbing my scalp and then rinsing with the shower head. He soaped my body and scrubbed my back. As he reached around to soap my front, the room service attendant came through the door with a beverage cart. He looked into the shower where Tom was rubbing my breasts. As he stood, agape, watching us for a moment, Tom tweaked my nipples and I smiled and winked at the young man. He blushed and quickly retreated, leaving the cart and rushing out the door.

We laughed at his discomfort, then I leaned my head back and turned my face up and he leaned his head down and I kissed him. Deep, tongue-lashing lip-mashing tooth clashing kisses. All the fantasizing and imagining and yearning that had built up through the long period of letter writing and the week of preparation came rushing up in us both and we kissed with such urgency that I felt my first orgasm rising in my pussy as my wetness joined the shower water running down my leg.

(All this time as Connie had been talking, I was in a shocked trance. My blood alternated between running hot and running cold. I took a sip of coffee, and found that it had grown cold. I started to be angry, but then I was carried away by the tale. It was so long ago, it was as if it were about different people. Except it wasn't different people. It was my Connie, and she was a woman I didn't know.)

We rinsed off and got out of the shower. I dried Tom's body and he dried mine, each of us paying particular attention to the other's special places. Only then did the real sexual activity begin. Up to now, it had all been play and getting acquainted. Now I got down on my knees and I grabbed his cock and I put the end of it in my mouth. It was clumsy at first, because he is tall and his cock was standing up. I had to pull it down and poke it between my lips. As I began to lick the purple head of his manly member Tom grabbed the hair dryer and and blew my hair dry. As I continued to stretch to reach him, he recognized the mismatch and, laughing, said "Why don't we take this to the bed?"

And so we did. He lay back on the bed and I gave him the best blowjob I knew how. I went slow and easy, licking, stroking with my tongue, and sucking gently. I cupped his balls in my left hand while I held his shaft with my right. I did not try to deep throat - he was too big, for one thing, and for another I thought I could do better with my tongue. He seemed to agree. His moans told me he was feeling good as he ran his fingers through my hair. Despite my best efforts, he didn't come, though. After several minutes of my pleasuring him with my mouth, he pulled me up, and kissed me. Not like the ferocious kiss in the shower, this was a sweet and tender thank you. Then he pushed me back and climbed over and straddled me. His huge cock twitched in the air as I reached up, grabbed it, and steered it to my pussy. He rubbed the tip up and down my labia and pressed it against my hot button. Then, slowly, methodically and carefully he fed his cock head into me. Little by little, each slow thrust going a little farther, he pushed his way into my velvety sleeve. We were kissing lightly, and with his left arm he supported his body above mine as his right hand gently rubbed my left breast.

I was transported. They say size doesn't matter, and I have never been dissatisfied with your tool, but this was a whole different thing. Every nerve in my body came alive as my pleasure centers twitched and buzzed. He was such a slow, smooth, sexy lover, and he filled me so full! He knew when to whisper in my ear, when to lightly kiss my neck, when to tweak my nipple, and when to come back to kiss my lips. My body trembled and throbbed with excitement as wave over wave of orgasm ran through me. This was sex like I had never had it before, and I couldn't get enough. I couldn't stop smiling. I wanted it never to end. His big cock was hitting pleasure spots I didn't know I had. I don't know how long he went on this way, but finally he drew himself out of me, rolled over onto his back, and relaxed. But only for a moment. He rolled onto his side next to me and pulled me to him and we hugged, rubbing our hands over each other's bodies. I sobbed gently as I came down from that incredible ride. Then it dawned on me that for all of the pleasure I had enjoyed, Tom had not yet come. His cock had relaxed a bit, but was still up.

I reached down and took hold of his cock, rubbing it slowly. "Aren't you going to let yourself go?" I asked him. "Not for a while. I like to take it slow and long," Tom said.

With that, he got up and went over to the beverage cart room service had delivered. He poured us each a snifter of brandy, and we sat on the end of the bed and sipped it. We went over and looked out the window onto the sleeping city. Then we went back to the bed and did it again. Tom started by rubbing my pussy with his hand, rubbing my clit, while putting one, then two fingers into me. I lay back and let it happen.

Tom brought me to two climaxes before he rolled onto his back, then pulled me over on top of him and sat me on his cock. As I settled down on him his cock slid easily into my sopping vagina, already stretched from our earlier activity. I rode him like a cowgirl, up and down, back and forth. If I'd had a hat I'd have been waving it like Annie Oakley. As we fucked we gazed into each other's eyes, locked on. I rode on and on, and in and out he thrusted. My boobs were bouncing and swaying in front of his face, so he reached up and grabbed one, squeezing and rubbing and pinching lightly. Sweat poured off both of us - I actually had sweat drip from my nipple onto his chest. This time he came. Oh, did he come. Waves and waves of cum spurted into me. We began to squish with the action, and we both laughed at the sound and went at it with more determination. God it felt good.

After that, we crawled under the sheets, cuddled, and fell asleep in each other's arms.

(Connie stopped and looked at me. I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights. My mind was reeling, my head was aching and my heart was beating in my chest like it would explode.

Connie got up, came over, stood behind my chair and rubbed my shoulders. She had been up all night worrying about how she would tell me, and how I would react. She knew it would be hard, but she realized that she had to tell me the story at last - her last awful secret.

She went into the kitchen and poured us each a fresh cup of coffee, then came back and resumed her tale of wanton debauchery.)

When we woke up in the morning, we decided that we didn't need clothes on - we'd just be taking them off again anyway. I went into the bathroom and took another shower, washing off the dried remains of the night's passion. Tom called down for room service. As I was toweling off he came into the bathroom laughing. "I bet the room service guys are fighting over who gets to deliver this order," he joked, as he took me in his arms and kissed me.