Monica The Milf

It was my fault, I'm sure. I was preoccupied and I was piloting the shopping cart very poorly so it's no surprise I bumped into somebody. I clipped her cart with a bit of a jolt which brought me out of my distraction in a hurry.

"Sorry! Sorry, that was my fault." She gave me a smile, a sweet, forgiving thing that was a tiny ray of sunshine in my personally overcast day. She was pretty, blonde, around 30 years old, and a quick glance at her left hand showed that she was taken. Just as well; so was I, though I wondered for how much longer.

We passed each other and I failed even to look back to check her out. Normally that would have been my first instinct but in the funk I was in just then I really didn't have the heart for it. I continued, picked out a few more items and turned the corner to the next aisle. Still lost in my haze, I almost did it again.

"Do you need a license for that thing?" she asked with a smile. She was more amused than annoyed, thankfully. I blushed deeply and again apologized.

"Sorry. I guess I'm a public menace today."

"Well be careful. If we criss-cross like this a few more times you might do some damage." We were on an alternating course which would bring us face to face in every row if we kept the same pace. And that wouldn't be a bad thing, actually. She was very pretty, dressed simply in khaki pants and a plum colored blouse with thick sandals bringing the top of her head up to my eye level.

"I'll keep an eye out for you. I promise I won't be any more trouble."

"No trouble." She replied sweetly around that pleasant smile. We passed again, and this time I stole a glance over my shoulder. Nice caboose, too. No evidence of child bearing on those hips, but the Lucky Charms and Kap'n Krunch in the basket gave away her status. My own knee biter was in day care just then, though if I couldn't find a new job quickly he'd be home with me full time.

Again my mind shifted back to my problems. My wife was absolutely engrossed in her new job, or perhaps one of her coworkers. I wasn't sure of that, but there were signs. One doesn't typically need a shower immediately upon returning from a long evening at the office, unless of course I was actually supposed to believe that the air conditioning at her office was shut down at 5 o'clock, making her feel 'all sweaty and gross' when she got home from working late. And then of course I hadn't found a decent job after the move so the finances were getting tight.

Another turn and another aisle, and this time I paid enough attention to look up. She was at the far end of the row and I watched her move a little. She was graceful, quick and certain. Perky, I suppose. I caught her looking at me a few times, and obviously she caught me looking at her. I think she might have blushed a bit. As we passed we smiled broadly at each other, and another automatic scan left me wondering where her wedding ring had gone.

That was interesting. My 'what the hell' kicked in and I wrenched my own plain wedding band off my finger as I rounded the end cap, dropping it in my pocket. It felt odd to have it off but the draft on the rarely-exposed skin felt a little thrilling for some reason.

Again we approached each other, and again we passed with a smile. I double-checked and indeed the ring was gone, though not the evidence that it lived there. The skin under the ring was smooth and pale, just like mine.

I needed nothing in the baking aisle so I skipped it and I worried for a moment that I had ruined the cycle, but she came looking for me. I lingered in the soft drink aisle, hoping she would show up. She arrived behind me and as we moved on I could feel her eyes on my back. I might have gained 10 pounds since college but there is no dust on my exercise equipment and at 32 I think I'm doing very well. Well enough to run the ring off her finger, anyway.

The aisles ended at the deli, and while I didn't really need any lunchmeat I got some anyway. She pulled up beside me in the queue for the deli and we had our first chance to talk.

"I finally read the manual," I joked, indicating the cart.

"Never hurts," she replied. We chatted a bit while in line, an easy connection growing between us. I ordered half a pound of pastrami and she ordered some potato salad, and then it was off to the registers. I was wondering how to prolong the exchange but it looked like I was almost out of luck. As the moment arrived when we would have to split up, she leaned in close and held her hand out. I took a scrap of paper from her and she spoke quietly.

"I think we should talk about rings." And then she was gone, down to register 3. The paper held her phone number and her name, Monica.

Once I had the groceries put away at home I was left alone with my thoughts. Not even 11 in the morning, my day was already mostly over. My wife wouldn't be back until well after dark and I'd have to pick up my son around 5. I had already checked the job posting websites and while I could have come up with a hundred things to do there was really only one thing that came to mind.

"Hello," she said on the other end.

"Hi. I'm the ring man."

"I thought you might be. Had lunch yet"

"Not yet."

"There is a place on Randolph, The Amber Inn. Be there in 20 minutes?"

"Gladly."

20 minutes later we were in a secluded booth at the back of the restaurant.

"So, why did your ring come off?" she asked after a smattering of small talk.

"Failing marriage. I think she is cheating on me, and if not then she is fully engulfed in her career and not interested in her family." She smiled knowingly into her water glass as she took a sip. "And yours?"

"I know my husband is cheating. He's not half as clever as he thinks he is."

"How do they think they can get away with fooling the people they have lived with for years? The people who know them best?"

"People are just dumb. Mine especially; I was a criminology major before I got my MRS degree."

"He thinks he is pulling the wool over a cop's eyes? Wow."

"Yeah. Hell, I wanted to be in the FBI. Then I got caught up with a rich kid on the fast track and I set all that aside for domestic hell. So." She let the word hang there for a moment, swirling the straw through the ice cubes in the glass and looking anywhere but at me.

"So. I guess one doesn't take off a wedding ring for nothing."

"One does not." She looked up at me with an intensity I had not yet seen. Her pleasant, cheerful demeanor had slipped just a little and I sensed a whiff of desperation, not unlike my own. "I've never done that before. I'm not sure why I did it."

"You know why you did it. Same reason as me. You might not be sure about how far down that road you want to go, but you know what road it is."

"Yeah." The silence turned uncomfortable as she fiddled with her drink.

"What are you after?"

"I just want...to feel alive again. To feel good. I want to be the center of someone's attention for just a few minutes." She hid it well but the tension was there to see. Perhaps I just knew what to look for because I had it in spades myself. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt like the center of the world, like I could truly relax and be free. "I'm not his goddamn accessory."

"I can't imagine you making a docile little trophy wife."

"I'm hardly a trophy."

"You are not a trophy or a jewel or a catch or even 'something else.' You are a woman, and a very beautiful one at that."

Again the awkward silence stretched out between us as we each waged our internal wars. Mine really wasn't that difficult a fight.

"There's a seedy little motel on Archer, about 3 miles from here." I suggested. Her response was immediate.

"Lets go." I left a $5 on the table for the soda and the trouble. At the motel I signed in as Mr. Johnson and paid in cash, though the wizened old man in the office looked like he couldn't have cared less. Moments later we stood alone in the cheap room, nervous and wondering what happened next.

The fear matched the excitement, the need equaled the guilt. My heart raced as I moved toward her, lifting my hands to the top button of her purple blouse. She was trembling as my fingers slipped open the first button, then the next, then the rest, finally exposing obscured, intriguing glimpses of her flesh below. I had not been with a woman other than my wife in 7 years and the excitement welling up within me was like a primal force of nature. It was all I could do to remain calm.

I slipped the blouse off her shoulders and she let it fall to the floor, still trembling terribly as my fingers brushed her flesh for the first time. Her simple lavender bra was clasped in the front, holding her pale freckled breasts in check. I touched her face with my fingertips, drawing them slowly down her cheek, her neck, across her collarbone, and down to the flesh of her chest. She shivered at my touch and finally broke her reticence.

Her hands flew to my shirt and pushed it up to expose my chest. I pulled the shirt off and her hands went to my pants, fumbling with the zipper in her haste and excitement. I in turn released her from her belt and slacks, only slightly more agile than her. She kicked off her shoes as the thin fabric of her slacks fell off her hips. She pressed into me, pushing me down on the bed and finally opening my zipper completely. We both shuffled the denim off my hips and she wasted no time in crawling up on me, still in her purple socks and underwear.

She kissed me in a way I had never felt before. There was passion, immense passion, but I felt like she was holding back tears. Or maybe that was me. I couldn't face the thought like that, so I did what she was trying to do -- I focused all my attention on her and on her lips, her sweet tongue and her warm breath. My arms held her down on me, fishing for the clasp on her bra and roaming her back, trying to touch every inch of her at once. Her hands were not idle. One arm was pressed between us and she was fondling my cock through my boxers, quickly bringing me to a full erection.

It was almost like a fight, a rush to touch and feel and be touched and be felt as much as possible as fast as possible. Our teeth bumped together a few times, painfully once, but we dared not slow for fear we might stop. I was having a hell of a time with the clasp on her bra, but then my world was a chaotic mess just then. This time she was the more adroit.

She managed to free my cock of the cotton underwear, and pushing her own panties aside she slid onto me easily. I tensed at the feeling, the strange feeling of a new woman after all these years, the familiar encompassing warmth of a woman. She pushed up from me and sat upright, her legs folded under her at my sides, and for a moment the storm was calm.

We looked at each other in silence. The final barrier was breached and there was no going back. She was exquisite, in countenance as much as in contact. I reached up, finally noticing she wore a front clasping bra, and freed her breasts. They were small but rounded, filling my hands with gentleness and beauty. She sighed as I cupped and caressed her, perhaps letting go of some of her tension. We were damned now, cheaters and adulterers, guilty as charged. I can't tell what she felt but I know she felt good in my hands and wrapped around my cock.

"You feel good," she said quietly. She squeezed my cock with her pussy and smiled as I shuddered. "I used to be really good at that in college. I haven't tried it in a while." She squeezed again, a longer contraction this time, before relaxing and then squeezing again. She set a slow rhythm of contractions, pulling on my cock from within. I shuddered at one particularly strong contraction and she smiled wider.

"I once made a guy come just by doing this. It took a while, but it was damn cool."

"Lucky bastard."

"Do you want me to do that now?"

"I don't think I have the patience for it. I need you too much." My hands roamed her breasts and tummy, down to the top of her patch, across her legs, everywhere they could go. She smiled serenely.

"Say that again." I reached up, splayed my fingers through her hair and pulled her down. She fell slowly on me, pressing her body on top of mine, and as my lips touched her ear I whispered.

"I need you."

We made love gently, slowly, passionately. Her soft pussy sweetly cradled my cock, sliding over its sensitive flesh time and again. I rolled over, pressing her down into the cheap mattress as I took control and made love to her as I hadn't done with a woman in years. We took our time, enjoyed every second, and tried to make the day last.

After a while I could feel her orgasm approaching. She became twitchy and agitated, her fingers clawed my back and her teeth took over where her tongue had been working before. She made no sound as the feeling overwhelmed her, she just latched on to me tight with her arms around my head and back, her legs wrapped around my ass while I kept up the pace. Her body shuddered and twitched for a few moments as the powerful feeling flowed through her, but soon it was over. As her orgasm subsided she slid off me like water, settling back on the mattress with a lovely, contented smile. I paused and let her catch her breath.

She smiled up at me, made a small purring noise and touched my face. Her tender fingertips said more than words could and we held that intimate moment, enjoying every level of the experience. Eventually my twitching cock intruded.

"Your turn," she whispered. I smiled and pushed myself up, still rigid insider her. I held her legs apart with my hands on her ankles and started sliding in and out of her. I wanted so badly to come in her but I wanted the moment to last even more so I took it slow at first.

"Faster," she said quietly. "I want to feel you come in me." No more than I did. As wonderful as she felt, I was anxious to do just as she asked. I picked up the pace, driving in hard and racing for the finish line. I fucked her hard enough to send her pretty, pale tits flying around enough that she had to hold them, and for some reason that was just incredibly hot. I let myself go, surrendered to the passion of the moment and let myself become an animal. Through gnashed teeth I grunted out my need, my deep physical compulsion to plunge deeper into this girl, to thrust and thrust and thrust again.

I let the roar out as the orgasm hit me, not caring if I were heard. I let myself go completely and just rode the shockwaves as they rolled through me and out my cock, spewing its load into Monica's willing pussy. I always had to be self conscious, careful about something or mindful of some issue, but not this time. I let the beast out and made a damn fool of myself as I grunted and cursed out my lust.

When it was over, when the demon left my skin and gave my body back to me, when the silence returned and only the sound of our breathing remained, my eyes focused on her face. As my pulse slowed and the sweat dripped down through my eyebrows, I saw that a different moisture was falling from her eyes. And I knew why. Stripped bare by our tryst, emotionally vulnerable and with our hearts very much on our sleeves, we allowed our emotional roller coaster to continue its wild ride.

I fell beside her and cradled her in my arms as she wept. The next hour was as tender as the previous one had been erotic. We shared a different intimacy, talking quietly about our selves and our lives, our dreams and our feelings. I didn't have to edit myself with her, I didn't have to lie.

After a while we grew quiet, just basking in the glow of the moment, wondering when we would have to return to our real lives. It was about 2 in the afternoon and we'd have duties in a couple of hours. But we weren't ready to let go just yet. My cock started to notice there was a naked woman pressed up against him and he started to rise to the occasion.

"Again?" Monica asked, part question and part suggestion. She wrapped her delicate fingers around it and encouraged it to life, though it didn't need much help.

"As many times as we can," I replied as I rolled over to kiss her again.