In turn, I began to play with his penis for him, stretching out the skin, pulling it from tip to base and back again, not fully jacking him off, but just rubbing, rubbing, rubbing, loving the feeling of his flesh as it rolled through my fingertips, feeling silky and exquisite, causing me to squeeze onto him harder and harder, as though I feared ever having to let go.
Then, suddenly, he did something that actually surprised me a little bit.
Before I knew it, he was spinning me around, pinning me up against the wall of the shower, and pushing my legs wide part. He was stooping down, and I found myself shocked as hell that his first act when it came to loving me was to go down on me- after nearly a decade of marriage, this was still only something I could manage to get my husband to do on Valentine's Day and my birthday, if I was lucky.
But Mr. Fellows, or, Dan, as I now referred to him, was a man who knew full well what he was doing when he put his face in a woman's crotch. His tongue melted into me, and it was like love at first lick as he explored my vagina, kissing my twat like a second pair of lips and devouring every tender fold.
“Oh.... Oh... Ohhhhhh...” I began to moan, as he nibbled and licked, slurping back and forth, and working his efforts into a steady, rhythmic bob as he ate me. “Yes... Yes... Yes... Yes...”
I tilted my head back in ecstasy as he continued to devour my pussy, letting the sensations ring like wild through my body. I reached out and clutched the back of his wet hair, pulling him deeper, deeper into my pussy, and I brought one of my legs up around his bobbing, hungry skull, squeezing him tighter and tighter, as though I wished to God I could somehow absorb this amazing man himself deep, deep into my body.
He sucked, and popped, and snapped, and worked his fingers in there as well for a round of furious clit manipulation, and before I knew it, I was an absolute, petrified goner.
My body shook, and I screamed repeatedly, and my legs tightened around his head, as I came harder than hell, body trembling from head to toe with orgasm, and my head seeming lighter than air as I at last came drifting back down, down, down.
I released the prisoner from my between my legs, sighing heavily as he lifted himself slowly back up, his dignity robbed, and mine about to take its place. He leaned into me, and I kissed his lip tenderly, grateful as hell for what he'd done, and loving the fact that I could taste myself on him as we kissed.
Now it was his turn...
He didn't request it, but my kisses began to trek down along his body, slipping down along his chest and in the direction of his toes, until at last I was down on my knees on the floor of the tub.
I stroked him a few more times, getting him as hard and as ready as I could, and then I plunged myself forward, taking a nice, tremendous swallow of his erect, throbbing cock.
I had to say, he was even harder to handle orally than my husband was, and the impulse to gag fought me hard as my nostrils flared, and as I proceeded to rock back and forth, back and forth up against him. Gradually, though, I managed to get a handle on myself, deep throating him skillfully, as he pushed his fingers lovingly through my wet hair, petting my pretty little head as I sucked him off.
Before long, I opened my lips wide, spitting him back out again, knowing his volcano was about ready to erupt. He seized hold of himself then, taking over, and pumping his cock with the last few vigorous strokes it needed to go bursting over the edge.
I shot his load all over me, coating my face, shooting a tremendous amount of the strong stuff into my open mouth, slathering me up so thoroughly that I could barely see by the time he was finished.
And God, did I love this... I felt like he was marking me, claiming me as his own, and the sheer, perverse eroticism of it was almost too much for me to bear.
Even worse, then, was when he brought me back up to him, licking the stuff off me as we kissed, cleaning me up in the process.
Both of us having climaxed, we needed to rest for a few minutes before continuing, and we lay entwined in the shower until the water grew cold, kissing and touching one another all over. We got out, dried one another off, and he made me dress up in one of his overly large shirts as well as my discarded panties, just so I would have something to take off again once we decided we were ready for more.
He took me into his bed with him, and the two of us hid beneath the covers, kissing and licking and playing with one another, cuddling as we warmed one another up again, waiting for the opportunity when both of us would be aroused to a degree adequate for intercourse to take place. For my part, I was already getting wet as hell for him and was burning to take his cock up my pussy, and I could feel him hardening up as well.
Just to get him the rest of the way there, though, I began to rub my warm thighs up against his cock, stroking him with my legs as it were, and this seemed to do the trick and help him across the finish line. Before I knew it, I had his fully erect penis locked in between my legs, smiling at this entrapment, until he turned the tables by pinning beneath his weight, and I laughed happily at my defeat.
He absolutely tore apart his own dress shirt, buttons flying all over as he rushed to get to my naked body again in as timely a manner as possible. He peeled off the panties as well, tossing them from the bed, and then climbing up on top of me.
He stared intently into my eyes as he entered me, and I struggled my damnedest to do the same without flinching. I couldn't help myself, and I flinched as he slipped inside, pushing me apart slowly, gently, and something about it seeming so much more exquisite than it did when it was my husband who was responsible for it.
He touched down deep inside me, surprising me with the fact that I could somehow contain his immensity, and soon, he was beginning to thrust, to gyrate, to fuck. This, of course, was no ordinary fuck though.
Although he was only the second man I had ever slept with in my life, I somehow felt instinctively that this was a man who knew what he was doing when it came to a woman's body, better than most men in fact, and as he rode me with his tender expertise, I felt as though I was straddling a line, caught between something excruciatingly tender and yet more vicious and consuming than anything I'd ever before experienced.
I began to egg him on, swept up by his love- “Oh, oh, oh... Harder... Harder... Pound me harder...”
He followed orders, proceeding to slam his pelvis harder down into me, blasting my wet cunt like a jackhammer, smashing me into a pulp, and the speed and intensity still growing with every progressive thrust he made into my body.
“God! God! God! God!”
And, WHAM!
He hurled himself one final time into my body, with a brutal, devastating force, so hard and so far that I didn't fully believe I would be able to walk once this was all over.
He trembled as he held himself up in there, his weight bearing down on me, my fingers sinking into his flesh, until at last I let out a tortured squeak of pleasure. This set him off, and he began to ejaculate wildly, shooting off a thicker load than I might have imagined him capable of after releasing in the shower, filling me up once more with his steaming essence, and setting me once again over the edge. My spine arched upward, and I pushed up into him, making it even worse, as stars flashed before my eyes and I thought I might go fucking blind with pleasure.
And finally, when I thought I could no longer stand it, I collapsed on the bed, still trembling with aftershock as he pulled himself out of me, then pulled my body into his, kissing me and loving me, ravishing me like this for hours on end.
Talk about one hell of an education...
Chapter 5
My days, from here on out, felt more like dreams than they did reality. That first night, I'd come home around two in the morning, and Rob hadn't suspected a thing in the world. In fact, he'd already been asleep for a good four hours when I crept into our bedroom, and though I felt certain he would find traces of Dan on me, or at the very least ask me where the hell I'd been, nothing of the sort took place in the least.
I was completely in the clear...
&nb
sp; If there had been a moment, a single point in time where I suddenly realized the error of my ways and repented, vowing never to do what I'd just done again, to remain forever faithful to the man I'd married, it would have been immediately after I stepped back out of the bedroom, and peeked in at my sleeping daughter, my little angel...
And yes, there was a stab of guilt at this point- I'm not a damn sociopath, after all...
How could I do this to her, I suddenly found myself asking? How could I risk screwing up her life by cheating on her father? And with her damn elementary school teacher, no less, someone she trusts? This is the type of thing that can royally screw over a kid's perception of the world for the rest of their lives if they find out... And God, oh God... How the hell could I?
It was only a moment however, and it passed quickly enough. It moved from intense guilt to rationalization in the blink of an eye, and it didn't seem at all difficult to justify my actions to myself.
And who, exactly, says she has to find out? This has nothing to do with her. This is about me and her father, and really more with me than everything. I have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.
I can't say I really believed this with one hundred percent conviction, but it was enough to keep me going, and as easily as that I found myself closing her bedroom door, and slipping into bed beside my unsuspecting husband.
Most nights, from then on out, it was Dan's bed that I found myself looking forward to slipping into... We saw one another often, sometimes as frequently as five nights a damn week. It was easy enough to fake an excuse to my husband, saying I had to keep working late, and him buying my lie, hook, line, and sinker, even despite the fact that my “late work nights” tended to keep me for unrealistic hours, frequently until two or three in the morning.
And then there were the weekends- God, how I loved these. I would drop Emily off at a friend's house for a play date, and Rob would be out doing his own thing, and I would be free to spend the entire day fucking with Emily's teacher, the two of us sweating the sheets and loving one another in ways that were as beautiful as they were profane, each one like some religious experience, as he explored my body and I his, and we invariably came up gasping and trembling, blown away by the things we ended up discovering.
God, what a wonderful man...
Even beyond a sexual level, I found myself becoming hugely enamored with his personality. As mentioned, Rob and I had been drifting apart for some time when all this had started, and it felt as wonderful to be making such a personal, romantic connection with a man as it did a sexual one.
He told me stories of how he used to travel a lot before he started teaching, about being in the Peace Corps and seeing the world. He was hardly old, but it seemed like he'd lived such a full life already, and it brought up a number of uncomfortable questions about my own life as a result, or at least in my own mind it did. What the hell had I been doing with myself all these years?
I'd been so preoccupied right out of the gates with getting married and having a kid that I'd forgotten to live otherwise, and now I was stuck at a mindless dead-end job that I couldn't seem to derive an ounce of pleasure from.
In some ways, it seemed too late to get too adventurous at this point in my life.
At least I could live vicariously through this favorite teacher of mine, Mr. Fellows. He could sure as hell show me a thing or two about life...
And honestly, I think something about Dan's age was a major factor in why I felt so deeply connected with him. He was just so mature, and made me feel safe when I was in his arms, which is something I can't say I ever fully had with Rob. But the thing is, Dan actually took chances in his life, and was adventurous, and so it seemed so strange that that could somehow make me feel more secure, despite it being tenuous and, in some ways, even dangerous.
But, I wasn't about to start questioning any of this, really. I wanted it to last, and I didn't want to ruin it by thinking harder than I should have about the whole situation.
As far as I was concerned, those few weeks were the happiest of my life, or at the very least the happiest I'd experienced in a long, long time. Happier than my honeymoon, even. Despite the wholly unlikely odds, I somehow felt as though I was precisely where I wanted to be.
But then, without warning, something started to change.
Or maybe there was a warning, and I just didn't manage to pick up on it. I'm not really sure, even in hind sight...
But, after a while, maybe a month or so of all this happening, a certain sort of distance began to take shape between Dan and I, or at least on Dan's part. I couldn't really figure out what it was- guilt, I ventured a guess- but it wasn't anything like the distance between Rob and I. It was completely understandable, I thought, if guilt had something to do with it, but I didn't dare ask him aloud if that was, in fact, the case. I didn't want to tear open some unpleasant wounds by discussing what was on both of our minds, wounds that might not ever stop bleeding if they were messed with. But you can believe it really bothered the hell out of me all the same.
Then, finally, without a trace, it seemed that Dan and I were no longer a thing. I'd texted him, and he hadn't replied, and then he never did reply, even though I sent a series of follow-up texts with increasing desperation.
After a while, though, I stopped sending him messages. I was no crazy psycho of a woman, and as excruciatingly it hurt me, as deeply enraged as I may have been at him, I knew when to quit.
This couldn't have gone on forever.
My days returned to normal, and it was everything I could do to keep from bursting out crying at the drop of a hat, feeling as hopeless as I ever did, and wishing, as much as I'd enjoyed it all, that I'd never started the damn affair with him to begin with.
For three weeks it went on like this, without a word from his end.
And then, completely unexpected, I heard from him out of the blue.
I'd since deleted his number in my phone, thinking that seeing it there would only tempt me into trying to contact him again, so the message came up without a name. “Please come over. We need to talk, if that's alright.”
Oh God...
I was pissed off at hell at him for a fraction of a second when I read this, but it instantly vaporized into a naïve sense of hope, a happy anxiety, and I knew, for the life of me, that I could not allow myself to fuck up whatever the hell this was this time around.
I made a point of preparing myself as adequately as I could manage, even stopping by the mall the day the two of us were set to meet to by a sexy new set of lingerie- a black bra and panties, full of sheer patches that left little to nothing to one's imagination. I looked damn fine in the things, which was good because I was going to need all the confidence for this meeting that I could possibly get...
Now, it was technically true that I had no clue for certain whether this meeting with Dan was going to turn out to be the sexy, steamy rendezvous that I had in mind for it- that was just pure assumption on my part. I acknowledged to myself that it might not be, but whatever the case was, I felt I needed to be as ready for it as I could.
At any rate, I felt vastly in over my head as I sat in my parked car outside his home that evening after work, waiting with anticipation, holding my breath and considering making a U-turn and heading back in the direction of home.
But at the same time, I knew full well that if I didn't go through with this I would only regret it, and whatever the results of this rendezvous were, I needed to make myself go through with it.
I knocked on his front door.
He opened it wide, and I practically felt the breath drain out of me entirely, as I stared for the first time in forever into his eyes, nervous and trembling, but attempting not to become too overwhelmed.
“Dan... It's been a while,” I said after what seemed an interminable silence, and he smiled at me.
“I'm so, so sorry for things coming to such an abrupt stop before... Please, come in, and I'll explain... There are some things we really need to talk thro
ugh...”
I stepped inside, smiling, ready for the chat that would, hopefully, get the two of us back on track as far as our extramarital relationship was concerned.
But then, almost immediately after the front door was closed, I caught sight of Rob sitting on the sofa, right in the middle of Dan's living room, and my brain went spinning wildly, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
“Oh my God... Rob... I... What the hell-?”
Dan, thankfully, calmed me down, although at this point I was so scared shitless about what was happening that I felt as though I was hyperventilating.
He explained calmly, “I was enjoying what you and I had together... More, really, than I've enjoyed being with anyone, in a long, long time... But, after a while, well... I started to feel guilty about what we were doing. It just seemed so wrong... Your daughter was in my class, and I was threatening to wreck her parents' marriage... I didn't want to get into a big scene about it or anything, and the only thing I could think to do that seemed even semi-decent was to sort of phase things out... I know it wasn't really fair of me, but...
“Well, anyway... That went on for a while, and even though I still couldn't really get over you that easily, I thought it was over. I could go on, at least as much as I could. But then, I would keep seeing your daughter in class, and it would make me feel so terrible... I knew I shouldn't have, that I should have just let sleeping dogs lie, but... Well, I just felt like I had to be honest, to tell Rob here what we'd been doing, and straighten this out once and for all. Only, when I told him... His reaction wasn't at all what I might have expected it to be...”
Billionaire: Menage: Swinger: Let's Swing (MMF Bisexual Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Short Stories) Page 53
