Forgive me for penning this confession, but I wish to share my recent experience with other women who find themselves to have been in a similar situation. My name is Andrea; and the situation to which I refer to is: being married with two kids, and most importantly - their husband being the only man they have ever slept with.
I found myself married at twenty-one. As a late developer, I convinced myself I was going to be shy and awkward forever; so I hung onto the first man who showed me more than a passing interest. It turned out to be Phil who wooed me (although I didn't take much wooing), and who also somewhere along the line - best forgotten - took my virginity. All Phil's lovemaking ever amounted to was two minutes of pointless poking and gyrating, then all too soon, him rolling over and closing his eyes. He had always boasted of the countless women he has had, and often suggested he could have his pick of the crop if he so desired. So I accepted the bed I had made, the man I made it with, and lay miserably in it.
Soon after taking my virginity, he proposed marriage and I eagerly agreed. Phil held onto the privilege of being the only man who had bedded me for over four years. Then something happened to change all that, and that's what I am going to relate to you now.
On my twenty-fifth birthday we dropped the kids off with Phil's mum and dad, and treated ourselves to an Italian meal. As we were ushered to our table, Phil caught sight of a couple that was friendly with his parents. We stopped for a short conversation, only to be invited to join them at their table.
John and Sandra were in their late forties, and had never had children, as John was a sergeant Major in the army. Sandra wasn't the most attractive woman in the world, but she seemed very happy, and obviously lived only to make her husband happy. She dressed sexily - obviously to please John - in tight gear that was really much too young for her. The skirt she wore was far more daring than my own. As she sat, it practically disappeared from her lap, and required skill to conceal the bare bits above her stocking tops. I on the other hand had on a long pleated thing that Phil's mum had given me for my birthday, and must say that I've never really had the guts to dress in the way that Sandra did. The only consolation was that I did have longer legs and bigger tits than Sandra, and knew I would have suited her outfit better than her.
John poured the wine, and initiated all the conversation. He was a very commanding man; totally in control over everything - including his wife. As my glass kept on receiving its fill, I felt a numbness develop in my lips and a twinge between my legs. I began to feel randy as I thought of John screwing his submissive wife, and ordering her to perform for him. She openly played with his leg (and more) under the table as he sat looking so assured; his wide shoulders more than filling his dinner jacket. I felt a twinge of jealousy as she stared so contentedly into his large hazel eyes.
I excused myself to go to the toilet, and as I sat in the cubicle with my knickers at my ankles I found myself moving a finger in the dampness between my legs as I thought more about the couple we were dining with. I moaned quietly and increased the movement inside my cunt until I heard someone enter the toilets. When I came out of the cubicle, Sandra was applying her lipstick and I smiled at her face in the mirror. I started washing my hands and was aware of the smell coming from the fingers that moments ago had been deep inside me.
'Are you enjoying your evening?' she said as she straightened her stockings.
'Yes,' I replied. 'Are you?' She nodded and turned round to face me.
'John was wondering if you and Phil fancied coming back to ours for a night-cap.'
'Well I'm not sure,' I replied, but I was certainly sure that I did.
'Oh come on,' she insisted. 'It'll be fun, we can see which of our men has the biggest cock.' I couldn't believe she had said this, but she quickly moved out the toilet door and left me standing pondering on exactly what she meant. Perhaps she fancied Phil - although I doubted it, considering she had John all to herself.
Back at the table we soon finished our meal, and it was John who talked Phil into going back to their house.
In the taxi, Phil sat in the front and John sat in the back between Sandra and myself. He stroked a finger gently up and down his wife's stocking covered legs. I watched from the corner of my eye and felt again a moistness developing beneath my knickers. As if I couldn't help myself, I inched a leg very slowly over next to his. As it touched him, my heart pounded frantically and I allowed the split in my long skirt to fall open to reveal my flesh. My face felt flushed and my eyes were fixed on Phil in the front chatting to the driver; totally oblivious to the wanton thoughts his young wife was having. This turned me on more and I pressed my leg harder into John's, resting one of my hands on my bare thigh - dangerously close to his lap. Without even seeming to look he grabbed at this wrist and slid my hand over to the front of his trousers. What I felt made me gasp involuntary; a hardness - almost as if it couldn't possibly be a cock. I soon realised it was as I moved my hand carefully from one end to the other and I felt it react in swelling even further.
I began to get bolder in my movements and Sandra did not seem to care that I had discovered why she was so committed to her husband. She smiled straight at me and her hand moved on top of mine and pressed it firmer into the hardness beneath her husband's trousers. The taxi jolted to a stop and I quickly retrieved my hand from John's lap.
