Eleanors Story

[Note: This story is a quasi-sequel to "My Wife Discovers a New Kink," from the point of view of one of the characters in that story. You do not have to have read that story to enjoy this one, but it may be helpful.]

"Eleanor" was about to meet a stranger for anonymous sex in a hotel room. It would be her first act of adultery after almost fifteen years of marriage. How did she get here, walking down this hotel room hallway on a Tuesday afternoon in May?

Her real name was Jeanette. She had turned 40 just last year. She was second assistant to a vice president of a financial services firm, and grateful not to be the executive assistant. In fact, she had turned down opportunities to apply for such a promotion, but being the executive assistant put you at the beck and call of the VP 24/7, and the extra money and title wasn't worth it to her.

Her husband, Matt, worked for a health care conglomerate, some position that involved forecasting health care trends. He traveled occasionally, a couple of days a month.

Their sex life was... well, Jeanette didn't know how to compare it, because it's not something that she discussed with her friends, or if she did, it was only in the vaguest terms. Nothing specific, nothing explicit. But it was not satisfying. She knew that passion tended to wane in time, but yearned for the excitement of her early days with Matt, the way they would make out on her parents' couch. Lots of things were going on under that blanket that covered them while they watched TV, after her parents had gone upstairs to bed. A couple of times, they had actually had sex, quietly.

Neither of them had been all that experienced, sexually. She had lost her virginity to a boyfriend in college, but she was Matt's first. He wasn't a bad lover, just inexperienced, but he soon learned where her clitoris was, and how to be gentle and patient. He even enjoyed going down on her, and didn't demand oral sex in return, though she didn't mind giving him that pleasure occasionally.

They were already engaged when she got pregnant, so they moved up their wedding plans. Their second child was born two years later, and then Matt had gotten a vasectomy. Jeanette sometimes wondered if her current state of sexual frustration was because they'd had kids right away, had not had a year or two just to enjoy each other. She loved their kids, but just felt like they had come too soon.

After being lovers for almost sixteen years (because they had first had sex about a year before they got married), they knew each other pretty well, so there were few surprises. Matt seemed content with sex every week or so, fairly routine stuff. It wasn't that he wasn't attentive to her needs when they did make love, but sometimes it wasn't happening for her right away.

She wouldn't fake orgasms, but sometimes she would just not encourage him to make the effort for her, because she was self conscious that it sometimes took her awhile to come, and while he didn't seem impatient about it, there just wasn't that level of enthusiasm in him that he used to have--those days when he would touch her or lick her for very long sessions. Now, sometimes after Matt had come, and gone to sleep, Jeanette would lie there, awake and unsatisfied. And sometimes she would touch herself and imagine things being different.

She'd imagine different positions, for one thing. There were some that didn't inspire her, like the rear entry positions, and definitely not anal. Being on top, though, was often one of her fantasies. It's not that they never did it that way. Matt was agreeable when she would ask to do it that way, but never initiated it on his own, and so she felt that he must not really want to. She asked him about it once, whether he didn't care for it with her on top, and he said it was fine, but she felt even more self conscious after that.

By this point in their lives together, masturbation had become more frequent for her. She tried to spice things up between them by suggesting they masturbate together. That was a difficult request for her, because she felt shy about admitting that she did it, even though they'd been together as long as they had. But she expressed it as her desire to see him touch himself for her. She did this not through words, but actions. She was stroking him one time, and after liberally applying some more lube, she took his hand, and placed it on his cock, with hers over it, so that she was still stroking him, but using his hand to do it.

After awhile, she took her hand off his, hoping he would continue. But he took his hand away. She tried to urge him to continue, but he was embarrassed, even though she knew he probably jerked off now and then. In desperation, she even said, "I'll do it if you will," and put her hand on her pussy, suggestively, and started caressing it, which really took a lot of will power, because she'd never let him see her do that. But she was really horny at that point, really needed it.

To her disappointment and chagrin, though, he said, "Let's just make love," and so they did, missionary as usual, and that time she was horny enough that she rubbed her clit while he fucked her, and she managed to come just after he did, but afterwards, she was awake and still needed more.

Usually, when she rubbed herself in the dark, she was careful to be as still and quiet as possible, so as not to wake him, but for some reason that night, she didn't care. In fact, she wanted to be "caught" pleasuring herself. So she tweaked her nipples and stroked her clit, not trying to be still at all, but moving her hips rhythmically, and letting herself pant and even whimper a little, like when she took the hand that had been playing with her breasts and used two fingers to penetrate her pussy while she rubbed her clit with her other hand, definite squelching sounds now along with her panting and moaning, and he was right beside her the whole time and slept through it all, even when she whispered, "I'm coming" and climaxed, wetting her fingers with her juices.

She felt so wicked and abandoned, as she brought her wet fingers to her face, sniffing her musky scent, and then licking the cream from her fingers, one by one. She'd never done that before, but it soon became a regular part of her now more frequent masturbation sessions. And now fantasies were becoming a bigger part, as well.

She was remembering all of this, as she walked down that hotel hallway, toward her tryst with "James." She guessed the fantasies were the first step on the journey that led to this hotel hallway, because they became more detailed and more elaborate.

As she approached the door to the hotel room, she was aware that she was about to do something that might change her life forever, might affect her marriage. Who knows what the consequences might be? Before Matt, there had only been one other sexual partner. So maybe part of this was just wanting to experience what it would be like to have sex with someone new.

She was also aware that her panties felt damp.

In her masturbation fantasies, she imagined sex in all sorts of ways. Sometimes rough, with the man in control. Sometimes rough, but with her in control. dominating him. But even in those rougher fantasies, and they were more the exception than the norm for her, even in those fantasies when someone was dominant, there would be moments of almost unbearable tenderness and gentleness, and it was during those moments that she would come.

Other times, she would imagine the sex to be slow and tender from the start, feeling almost like she was being worshipped, and these fantasies would make her come even harder.

Sometimes she would imagine a frantic, quick fuck, her lover unable to control himself, climaxing as soon as he penetrated her, and then apologizing and licking her to orgasm, and stroking his cock while he did because he was so turned on by licking her pussy that he couldn't resist and after she came he would get up on his knees and continue to jerk off, murmuring "You're so beautiful, so beautiful," and spurt all over her tits because she was so incredibly hot.

As her fantasies became more elaborate and her masturbation more frequent, she bought herself a slender purple vibrator and used it occasionally, mostly on her clit, but sometimes vaginally. She also started reading collections of women's sexual fantasies, some in print volumes that she kept hidden, some from sites online. She started a folder of some of her favorites, downloading them to her computer and password protecting the folder with an innocuous name, like "work files." She watched some porn videos, but it was the erotic stories that usually did it for her.

When she had the time and the privacy, she would read erotic stories until she got herself worked up and wet, and then she would think about what she had read, and weave in her own fantasies, until she took herself to a creamy climax.

She and Matt still had sex, about the same frequency as before, but she no longer relied on it as her primary mode of relief. Though she had reached middle age, her libido was stronger than ever, and she was masturbating almost daily, some days more than once.

Eventually she discovered some web sites that catered to married people who wanted to have anonymous sexual encounters. In her reading of erotica, this had been a theme to which she returned often. At first, she had found the idea horrifying, but eventually realized that the idea fascinated her. Why would people do that? Maybe she was beginning to understand why. Not affairs, just anonymous sex with no strings. The other person with as much to risk. It was intriguing.

She joined one of these sites, under a pseudonym, coming up with the name "Eleanor." It came from an old song by the Turtles, "Eleanor, gee, I think you're swell," which they had written as a joke, but it became a hit. She was just a lurker, indulging her curiosity, looking at the profiles and the pictures as fuel for her fantasies. She would look at the profile pictures and imagine having sex with some of the men that she saw. Occasionally one would really get her going, but most would not.

There was one guy, though, who became a regular in her masturbation fantasies. She wasn't sure what it was about him that turned her on, but he did, and her fantasies about him became more elaborate and detailed, felt more real. Eventually she decided that she would have to meet him. She told herself that she could always back out, up to the last minute. The site required all participants to pledge that all sex had to be consensual (though, realistically, what were they going to do if the situation changed?).

So she made a date with "James," and here she was, about to meet him in person, in the flesh, literally. She was almost shaking with nerves, as she stood outside the door trying to compose herself and trying not to hyperventilate. Aware again of the wetness between her legs, the almost unbearable sensitivity of her nipples.

She knocked, and he answered. His profile picture was accurate, but sometimes it's still different when you meet in person. She figured he was about ten years older than she was, about what he had seemed in the profile. Graying hair, dressed casually but neatly. He smiled at her. His beard, very close cropped, looked softer in reality than in the pictures. She was glad it wasn't one of those long, shaggy beards some baseball players had. She wondered how it would feel against her skin.

She was relieved when he invited her to sit down in the chair. He seemed polite, and though it was in the afternoon, a glass of wine seemed like a good idea, to calm her nerves. Not sure what to say, she heard herself blurting that this was the first time she had done this, immediately regretted revealing that, but then felt reassured when he said it was a first for him, too, and that they could take it slow.

There was an awkward moment when she finished her wine. She hoped she hadn't gulped it down. What now? She didn't want any more to drink. Would they just jump into bed and shag like bunnies? She hoped not.

When he asked if he could kiss her, her heart melted. Each of them knew that they were there for one reason, to have sex. To fuck. By making the appointment, by coming through that hotel room door, she'd essentially given him permission already to fuck her, to put his hard cock inside her body, inside her pussy. So this moment of asking her if it was okay, not to fuck her, but to kiss her, that was golden. So thoughtful, so caring. She had no doubts now about what she would do. She would give herself to him.

She went over to the bed, sat down beside him, and kissed him, lightly at first, a thank you for his consideration. Then another, more romantic, and she felt the passion building between them. She was hungry for this, and she gave in to her hunger, even more so when he kissed her neck, one of her erogenous zones.

He wasn't in a hurry, and this slow pace, this consideration of her, turned her on even more. She found herself pulling her top over her head, and unhooking her bra, and the look on his face when her breasts were revealed was almost enough in itself. Not really, but in the moment, she felt his admiration, his lust, and when he brushed her nipples with his lips, before gently sucking them, she heard herself gasp and felt her clit throbbing, and her hand went to his cock automatically, feeling his hardness through his clothes.

Their clothes came off fast, after that, a blur of undressing, sometimes themselves, sometimes each other. He pulled the bed covers back and lay her down, continuing to kiss her nipples and lightly caressing her belly, her thighs, her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to her pussy. She was still in her panties.

He was so gentle, so patient, brushing lightly over her panties, and then going underneath the waistband, touching her curls, that she had trimmed just this morning, then stroking along the labia, avoiding contact with her clit, for now. She felt herself opening. He carefully rolled down her panties, drawing it out, and then tossing them aside somewhere.

He looked at her for a moment, and she was aware of how wet she was, that he could probably see that. His fingers slid slowly up her wet slit and when the very tip of his finger made first contact with her clit, she barely managed to avoid screaming.

She assumed he was just warming her up for the main event, but he kept stroking her, trying different amounts of pressure, different fingers, really feeling her and watching her responses, and she loved every second. She knew she was going to come from this, and it was glorious. But when she started to ask him if he wanted to take her, he just smiled and said she should relax and enjoy it.

It wasn't long after that that she climaxed. Omigod, it felt good. Better than she could have imagined. But it made her even hungrier.

She saw him pulling off his boxer briefs and putting on the condom, and then. as if watching herself do it, pushed him on his back and climbed over him. This was what she wanted, to be in control of this part.

It was a nice cock, similar in size and shape to Matt's, so a relief that it wouldn't be too big for her. She could work with that, she thought. Oh, yes. She positioned herself, and for a moment, she wanted to just rub that cock between her lips and over her clit, but her body had other ideas, and she slid down, taking all of him inside her, making eye contact with him throughout the moment of penetration. Oh, that was good. She just sat there for a moment, feeling the fullness of him. He was so hard, and it was all for her.

She was glad he wasn't trying to push himself in and out, letting her set the pace. Once or twice, getting into the rhythm that she wanted, he must have been getting close, and he put his hands on her hips to slow her down. That was thoughtful. She took the hint, started watching him more closely for signs of when he might be nearing orgasm.

When he sucked her nipple as she leaned over him, Jeanette thought she would die. She put his hands on her tits, asked him to pinch them just a little. That was when she realized she might actually climax from this, from the fucking. That didn't happen very often.

Jeanette ("Eleanor") didn't usually talk during sex, but she heard someone moaning, saying things like, "keep doing that," and "that's good," and realized it was her own voice. She thought he might be getting pretty close to orgasm, and didn't want to miss the chance to come again herself, so she started rubbing her clit, moaning, and she came, harder than she had ever come in her life, and felt that he must have come as well. Omigod, that was so good.

He was even nice afterward, stroking her hair. For just a moment, she wanted to take him home with her, then felt guilty for thinking that. Guilty about that, but not about the sex. She had needed it.

As they started getting dressed, she couldn't find her panties, then realized she'd better get a move on, as she had to pick up her daughter at school to take her to a friend's for a sleepover. She was on the verge of saying something about this, and caught herself just in time. A weird moment, a contradiction. This guy was a perfect stranger, but they had just had some of the most intimate, tender yet explosive, sex, so it felt natural making him part of her life, until she realized that he wasn't, and couldn't be.

But she still felt grateful to him. She found herself thanking him, giving him a brief good-bye kiss on the lips as she left the room. There was something like poetic justice that she was not wearing underwear. It was a slut thing to do, and she felt a little like a slut, having afternoon sex with a stranger, coming twice, but she didn't mind it at all.

As she walked down the hall to the elevator, still feeling no guilt, she felt satisfied in a way she had not felt in a long time. And determined. Determined to save her marriage. If her husband needed to be taught what she needed, she would take him to school, starting tonight. The fantasy sprang, fully formed, into her mind. She would pick up Kara and take her to her sleepover at her friend's, as scheduled. Ted had an away soccer game and wouldn't be home until 8:00 or later. It was the perfect opportunity to put her plan into action. Before she stepped into the elevator, she texted Matt, "Come straight home after work. I have a surprise for you."

She would shower, put on a sexy nightie, no underwear. Take him upstairs. Dinner could wait, or they could get takeout. There would be a striptease and a seduction. She would be in control and set the rules: "Look but don't touch." She would suck him a little, to get him going. Then make him watch her. "This is what I do when I'm lonely, and I get lonely a lot. And horny." She would touch herself, remind him how sensitive her breasts are. There would be a lot of nipple play.

As the elevator descended, she continued to imagine the details, using her well-practiced skills in the art of erotic visualization...

She sees herself pushing her husband back on the bed. straddling his legs, while she touches her pussy. There would be quite a bit of dirty talk. Maybe she would get out her vibrator and show it to him. "When I can't have your cock, I have to use this." She would make him watch as she took herself all the way to orgasm, talking about what she was doing, describing what she was feeling. Telling him, "I'm going to make myself come now. Watch me come." She wanted to make him crazy with lust.

She would take her wet fingers and paint his lips with her juices. Rub her pussy on his shaft, slowly penetrating herself on his cock. Reminding him to go nice and slow and gentle. "This is what I need," etc. She would move on top of him, controlling the pace. She would put his hands on her tits. Talk to him. "Yes, baby. Pull on my nipples, remember how that makes me so wet. That's it. Fuck me. Fuck this pussy. It's all wet for you, for your hard cock. Let me feel you come. I'm close. I'll rub my clit so I can come with you." A lot of stuff like that.