"What the hell am I doing?" I wondered to myself as I continued down the freeway toward a destination where I should not have been going and a rendezvous I should not have. The twinges of guilt and shame weren't quite enough to extinguish the passion that drove me forward, however. Like water tossed onto a roaring fire, the immediate result is steam. In my case the steam made me squirm in the leather seat of the BMW and drop a hand to the shaved and oiled flesh that my leather mini skirt barely covered. My panties, discarded according to instructions, lay crumpled on the seat beside me. I picked them up and used them to protect the leather seat from the seeping fluids of anticipation. Too late.
Twenty more miles to go. Twenty miles until I broke my vows of fidelity. Twenty miles before I put the need for passion and excitement above the mendacity a 21 year marriage, two kids and a husband who seemed to be gone more than he was around. Despite the guilt I felt excited and more aroused than ever. My entire body was tingling with anticipation and more than a little fear of what this encounter could begin. The half diluted and almost empty Mountain Dew in the cup holder did little to moisten the arid sensation in my mouth and on my lips; lips which would soon be wrapped around the cock of a man I'd never met.
This man that I was about to give myself to had never seen me. I knew him only a "Steve." It had started as a random internet encounter and had gone much further. We never exchanged pictures because we were both married, and because he said it was much more erotic to describe ourselves in intimate detail. This wasn't about destroying our families, but rather finding the passion and excitement that neither of us could find any more with our respective spouses. How would I compare to whatever image he had of me? How would the way I see myself compare with the way he would see me?
My breasts were nearly spilling out of the low cut white blouse I told him I would be wearing. Time and gravity had augmented what nature had begun. Where I was once a firm 32C, now I'm more of a 36D; sagging a bit but with slightly upturned nipples that I think look even better than before. Granted, I would love to have the body I had at 17, but on the eve of my fourth decade I think I look pretty good. Maturity added curves and in my case about 20 lbs, but I can still turn heads. I work out to stay healthy and attractive; not that my husband ever seemed to notice.
We used to have such a hot sex life. A memory of that time at my father's hunting cabin still sent a shiver over me. We were two young lovers and the thrill of the forbidden made it all the more exciting. How we nervously undressed so quickly in the cold; how he lifted me and tossed me on my parents' bed, following on top of me and smothering me with kisses while pawing my body; how he stopped with his penis at my entrance, looking into my eyes for the longest time before claiming my shivering body with a single hard thrust; how we ignored the cold and refused to get under the blankets because we loved how the heat from our bodies contrasted with the cool air. The memories returned and drove my fingers down to caress my clitoris.
Where had we gone off track? I remember when we were engaged, lying together on the sofa in the front room under a blanket; snuggling. The air smelled of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon as my mother was making breakfast. We had slept in separate rooms, though we had snuck together for a time in the darkness. Even though I was of age, my parents would have been pissed had they known that my pajamas were pushed to my knees and that his well lubricated cock was buried in my ass. It was such a deliciously naughty thing to do. Keeping quiet was the hardest thing; his fingers gently rubbing my clit; his hips working a slow rhythm as he took me where I had never let anyone else take me. We barely got away with it. I had the hand towel in the back of my PJ's to capture the seeping fluid his passion had deposited in my rectum, but our PJ's were up and we looked almost innocent when my mom walked into the room and said "Good morning, Sleepy heads."
As the miles slipped by I thought back to other memories. The first time my husband ever drove to meet my parents I had taken a pillow for the drive. Before long the pillow was on my lap and his hand was under it. My jeans had been discarded altogether, as well as my shoes and panties. The car was a two door Mercury with plenty of room to get comfortable for the long trip. We hadn't made it much past the first hour when touching lead to caressing, and then to me leaning over the seat and sucking on his thick cock while he drove. He caressed my face and stroked my hair as I continued. When at last he erupted in my mouth I swallowed it all without hesitation. I usually would have spat it out, but there was no place to do so. A few miles later he reached for the pillow and told me to unfasten my jeans. He kept his eyes on the road and his fingers on me until I came. It should have been enough, but moments later when he pulled off down a two track county access road I knew his passion had not been sated. The pillow went under my rump, the seat went back, and my future husband moved between my legs to fuck his future wife. Something about the whole scene was so hot that I must have masturbated to the memory 100 times; the way he looked as he leaned over me; the feel of his hard cock as he took me; the excitement that drove me to orgasm three times before he finally came; the risk of being seen; and the wild, sweaty climax. We kissed as he erupted inside me. Later, we cleaned up at a rest area so we didn't arrive smelling like sex.
