I swear it was an accident. There was nothing I could have done. I simply slipped. I was on my knees putting George's coca cola on the table next to him and I lost my balance. One hand arm of the sofa, the other came to rest on the handsome eighteen year old's jeans, on his cock. I was so aware of it, it looked so big in his jeans. I don't know which of us was more surprised but I certainly was. The heat of it, the hardness and the size. I was shocked. But I had to admit I could have removed my hand sooner than I did. When I recovered from the shock I took it away, of course, but the memory of it stayed, lodged far too deeply, seared in my memory. I apologised and stood up blushing but we both knew it had been done. I felt him watching me for the rest of the time he was there. As he left the house, leaving his aunt and uncle, our neighbours, outside at the barbecue, his eyes told me he would remember.
That night, as Charles slept an alcohol induced sleep, I throbbed between my legs, felt the hot slipperiness. I didn't sleep well and when I dozed off my dreams were filled with lusting. I knew it was silly, wrong.
I have to say Charles didn't have as big a sex drive as me. I had been a slow starter but when I began it was with a passion. Charles had satisfied me when we married and later too, and he did satisfy me reasonably at the times when we did it now. He lived for his work and that was satisfaction for him. His needs were easily met and any problem dealt with simply by making him cum quickly and acting. It sometimes felt wrong to let my husband think he's satisfying me when he's not, but it was easier and caused no added friction. It was just that I was aware of my need far too often. Without a partner who needed it as much as me I simply resorted to satisfying myself each day to ensure my hunger was filled. At least that way there were no complications in, what was after all, a very pleasant, safe life. I certainly didn't want the complication of an affair and all its problems when I could deal with it myself.
On Monday morning I rose with Charles and we chatted until he went to work. I didn't work, I didn't need to, Charles earned quite enough to ensure I needn't. As I sat sipping my coffee I listened to the sound of the car disappear down the drive, my free hand slid inside my thick towelling dressing gown and squeezed my nipple. I squeezed hard and arched my back, wondering how long it would be before I gave in to myself. There were times I played with my tits gently, just now I needed it hard. I squeezed my entire breast and needed to put my cup down so I could enjoy it more. I unfastened the belt and let the towelling fall free from my shoulders, baring myself as if to a lover. My fingers traced the softness of my inner thighs as I teased myself and opened my knees wider and wider.
I thought of the hard erect cock in the jeans. I ached for one just now. My pussy felt pleasantly swollen between my legs even before I touched it. I wanted to feel that fullness, of being stuffed, of having someone's body pushing inside my own. It was silly, he was only just an eighteen year old student and I was ten years older and married. I stopped myself with an effort and drank my cooling coffee, teasing myself with restraint. I got up and put everything into the dishwasher and as I was half way upstairs to shower the front door bell went. Presuming it was the postman, I wrapped my gown around me and answered it.
It was George! I immediately became tongue tied. I wasn't often taken by surprise but I certainly was then, seeing him standing there. I couldn't think why he was there. I couldn't think. He towered above me in the porch, shutting out the drive from view.
"Hello" he said and made to come in. I stepped aside, my brain not functioning. He closed the door and suddenly I was against the wall and his hand was inside my gown on my pussy, holding it in his hand, pressing! My eyes opened wide, my throat constricted, my hands held his forearm in a natural response but that was all. I never thought to fight, to really stop him, to scream. His body was against me in my space. I could smell the scent of him. Suddenly, spontaneously my hips bucked up against his hand. I looked up at him in shock.
"You touched me there yesterday." I stared at him open mouthed, nodded. I had. My breathing was in tatters. I tried to control it. Control something. I grunted. Closed my eyes.
"You see what happens when you touch somebody there?" I nodded again.
My hips wouldn't keep still, jerked back and forth, wouldn't do as they should. I had to stop him. I had never been unfaithful. I had always been able to stop situations developing. His other hand slid against my face, his thumb came to my mouth, parted my lips. I turned my head just a little and it slid inside. I sucked it. Why was I sucking it? His hand pressed against my naked pussy, I could feel his fingers between my lips. A thumb in my mouth and fingers at my sex! I felt caught. I thrashed about for a moment as he grinned and watched me. He would feel my wetness, my heat. My breath came in little gasps.
"Open your dressing gown. Quickly. Show me your tits." Still impaled, my hands moved immediately, pulling the sides apart, showing him my tits, pushing my jutting nipples to him. My front was bare. I shouldn't be like this. He could see me. He shouldn't be seeing me like this! Shouldn't touch me like this! "Take it off." Again my hands moved without conscious thought. It fell down the wall behind me. I was naked, his fingers in me, fucking me. My knees bent and spread. I was so wet. I was cumming, oh my god I was cumming! It was forced from me. I never expected it, never had orgasmed so quickly in my life! My body bucking wildly against his hand, shoulders against the wall. My mouth making noises around his thumb. I was so ashamed. My hips were ready for more. I was so wet. His fingers and thumb came from me, wetly held my arm.
"Bedroom." He ordered gently.
"Yes." I finally managed to gasp, moving forward, legs not fully under control and thighs wet. On the stairs his hand between my naked legs again. I crumpled on the carpet, fingers fucking me, grunting, until they left me again. We were moving again. The bed still dishevelled. My marital bed. I was in front of him, undressing him. Rubbing my face against his chest. Rubbing against him, grinding my sex against him. Pressing my face against his cock, feeling it's hardness, it heat, his maleness, as his jeans came down. I pulled them off, his shoes gone.
He just put me on the bed, on my knees. He was behind me. My tits squashed into the bed, butt thrust up. Oh God he filled me. He felt so big, filling me so fully. He just took me. Oh God it was good. He kept pounding me like a bitch. Oh God it was good. He came and I did again. I thought he had finished with me but he had my face to his cock. I had to suck it. Covered in his cum and my cum. Felt disgustingly slutty. He hardened fully again in my mouth. So quickly hard again. Felt some kind of pride. He fucked me again. I was like a rag doll as my body just thrashed about under him. I came again and again. I was lost. I had never orgasmed so much.
When he left I was still on the bed in a daze, exhausted. What had happened. Was it rape? Hardly. But I couldn't explain what or why. No, I knew how. My body throbbed and ached and was sore but I had a big grin on my face. I'd never cum more than once before. I'd never been unfaithful before. I'd let him fuck me on our bed. Oh God. In our bedroom. I was leaking his juices all over the bed. I felt shame, and more.
I lay there for a while before cleaning myself in the shower and stripping the bed.
The next morning, I didn't know whether he was coming again sometime. I decided to go out, get away. Charles hadn't noticed a thing. Either with me or the bedroom. I felt so guilty. Thankfully that night he hadn't wanted sex. I put cream on my sore pussy in the middle of the night. I showered, even before Charles, and dressed quickly making sure I was out of my dressing gown. That seemed to surprise Charles more than anything. He even asked if I was going somewhere.
After Charles had left I didn't know what to do with myself. I was jittery. Each time I decided to go out I put it off for a while. I changed three times. I was about to go out when the doorbell rang. I was wearing jeans and a big sweater.
I had to make him come inside quickly, I didn't want everyone to see him at the door. I was out of breath again. He laughed at my clothes. Knew why I was wearing them without me saying anything, embarrassing me. I wanted him to go. I wanted to be left alone. I did. I did really.
His eyes held mine and quietly told me to take them off, there in the hallway. It was like a game of strength that I lost. I didn't have a chance. Leaning against the wall, he waited patiently until I was completely naked again for him. My knickers had a wet mark. My face was blazing. He was making me do this, forcing me. He shook his head, not allowing me to cover myself with my hands. His eyes like an elevator as he looked up and down my body. He was really just a boy, a big boy, with a big cock. But he was big, strong and athletic, and he was certainly very male. I shouldn't be naked like this. He had made me.
"Nice. You have a nice sexy body." I wanted to thank him. I felt ridiculously grateful.
Gently he led me into the kitchen by my arm, feeling small beside him. I went with him quietly, docile, so aware of my naked body, my tits moving. He led me to the table, moved a chair, gently bent me face down on the table, my bottom pushed high. Spread my buttocks a little, posing me for his eyes. His hands moved. I heard his zip.
"Are you wet enough?" It wasn't a question of whether I wanted to be taken.
