The Other Woman
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It felt so good to lie down. Getting all those clothes off was a treat too. She loved it when no one was home and she could do as she pleased. A long hot shower, a small bite to eat and now.... well, now was the good part. Her lover would be coming to her tonight. She had plans for him. Oh yes, she had plans. Her fingers crept over her body as she awaited his arrival. She is 22-years-old, 5-foot 8, 121 lbs, blonde hair, cute, 34 D, and she has a flat stomach and since she works out is in pretty good shape, with a great personality. And, lets not forget her hazel eyes. They say that people with hazel eyes are very lovable and that they are really hot and are awesome to be around. She knew that he loved her, but he was married. He wants to go out with her, and be seen with her. But since he’s married she has to be content with him write to her, and knowing that he’s think of her, dreaming of her, and loving her. When they were together, he did things for her, and to her, and although she had ultimate control, she was a woman with wants and needs and if she was wearing any, soaking wet panties.
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When they were together she listened to him, watched him, felt him. Even when he complains about ‘her.’ How ‘she’ doesn't satisfy him sexually, emotionally, or mentally. How ‘she’ doesn’t want to do anything or go anywhere. How ‘she’ nags at him and make him feel like he’s failed ‘her.’ How ‘she’ makes him feel like ‘less than a man,’ how he feels like he’s not even alive when they’re together. How they avoided contact and conversation with each other just to keep down the chaos. How he avoids going to the place where they both sleep, because it just doesn’t feel like home to him. How he avoids having ‘the talk’ with ‘her,’ because divorce isn’t as easy as it sounds, regardless of how much they both know it’s inevitable.
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As she went to answer the door, to please him she was a blonde babe wearing a silk robe, sipping a glass of red wine, while soft jazz hummed quietly in the background. The lights were dimmed, but not so dark that he couldn't see a dazzling row of white teeth coming towards him smiling, with a hand extended in sincere welcome. She thought to herself, “Yes, dear, I'm paying attention. Even more so when you don’t want to talk about it." She understood that he felt trapped by his marriage and freed by his time with her.
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She shuddered at his form. He was just so sexy, dressed or otherwise. The way his skin browned in the summertime just made her weak in the knees. She watched as he unbuckled his belt and peeled his shirt from his hairy chest. She’d wanted to play hard to get tonight, but that idea went the way of the buffalo when she saw the first patch of unclothed skin. She rose to her knees on the bed and started kissing his chest. His strong hands massaged her lily-white shoulders from the front and he kissed her on the head, the way he always did.
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Her nipples sprang out of her breasts like pencil erasers at his slightest touch. He made her so hot it was almost unbearable. With one finger under her chin, he raised her face to his and kissed her lips in that soft, sexy way she absolutely adored. Her mouth fell open for him, allowing his tongue full access to her mouth. She had to deal with the ‘what a slut I am for him’ thoughts again, but that was okay. To be one man’s slut was acceptable, wasn’t it?
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He helped her onto her back and began kissing her soft velvety skin. Her flesh under his lips and tongue quivered and grew goose pimples. She cherished his touch in whatever form, anytime she could get it. It made her feel warm and secure to know that someone loved her enough to be concerned about her skin’s need for another’s touch. This touching, though, was a gift from the Gods themselves. The rapture of it all was enough to push her over the edge, but that would all come later. This was just the warm-up.
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She was well on her way by the time he slid out of his jeans. The feel of his large, heavy body against hers caused a shiver to run up and down her spine. God, how his wife must love that, she mused for the thousandth time. She could almost count every pubic hair that caressed her thigh as he curled around her to suck her granite hard nipple into his mouth. Tiny electric pulses surged along the nerves that connected both nipples to her throbbing clit. It was as if he were touching a bare, live wire directly to her nervous system. Jesus, he was magnificent.
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She begged him; in sensuous whispers that only he could hear, to lick her. She made the cute baby talk that always got him to give in quickly and was rewarded with an expert tongue invading her tender of her petals of her flower of womanhood. His mouth did the mating dance on her pussy with a skill that all men should aspire to. First lightly flicking, then his tongue wandered up and down her slit, and then finally sucking directly on her engorged bud. Her back arched off the bed as he brought her to the summit and then pushed her over the edge. She lay gasping for a second, reveling in the moment. As he always did, he waited until the pleasure subsided before touching her again. Everything perfect, just like it should be.
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She spread wide for him, with a ‘come hither’ grin. He smiled back and cradled himself at the portals of her precious womanhood. Playfully, he teased her, making her passions increase. She tried to force the issue herself, but he was much too strong for her. She had no choice but to wait until he was kind enough to continue. The seconds seemed to take a lifetime. Slowly, painfully slow, he pushed his giant tool against the passion-engorged lips of her damp slit. She moaned and sighed at his unremitting persistence in teasing her to death. Chocking back a sob, she begged for it, and even tried to bargain for it, but he kept up his maddening slow pace. As his cock eventually crept between her pretty pink lips and deep within the silken walls of her special place, new pangs of pleasant torture shot through her. One would have heard her bones creaking, had she not been so wet and ready for him. At very long last, he was inside her. Now she had him.
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As her damp warmth engulfed him, his hips started to buck, softly and slowly to let her get used to the rhythm. Her fingers closed tightly around the edges of the mattress as he slowly picked up the pace. She cried out in ecstasy as he suddenly plunged forward, burying his throbbing cock balls deep into her volcanic pussy. What a stallion. His cock drove deep into her body, igniting fires in her brain that only an orgasm could extinguish. She clinched the inner muscles of her embroiled pussy and pushed her hips into every thrust, trying to milk him of his hot seed. Soon their thrusting was approaching the brutal point of no return, as their bodies crashing into each other like the relentless waves of the ocean crashing against the rocks of the beach.
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She could hear him; those softly whisper grunts and moans that signified his impending explosion. God she treasured this part. His thrusts were powerful and sporadic, as if he’d lost control of himself to the beast hidden deep in his soul. With a satisfied sigh, she inwardly braced for it, both his and her own. With all the tension they were building up, this one would set off a Richter scale somewhere, she was sure. Their love would shake the world and everyone in it.
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He clamped on to her body with an iron grip as his balls erupted spewing scalding cum through his cock and into her willing pussy. Her own spasms were as uncontrollable as a muscular disease must be. She could feel his pubic hairs as each passed over her hypersensitive clit. The scorching cum he filled her with ignited the fireworks in her mind, just as they always did. The floodgates, holding back the tide of her passions, broke free. She screamed out into the dark night like a train whistle on an overheated boiler. Bright spots grew and exploded behind her compressed eyelids. And then there was calm.
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The room was literally bursting with the sudden quiet. The only sound was two bodies heaving and gasping for air. The exercise always drained her, but she would gladly suffer it for the prize. If only it would make her thinner, but that was of far less concern now than their mutual pleasure. Now she would just languish in the emotional after glow of the moment and enjoy him. As they slid off one another, he reached out and tenderly he held her close long in the night. A small kiss on the cheek was the reward that she expected and received. He always added the little touches that made every time with him special.
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When he said, “I love you,” as soft as a butterfly’s wing a small tear of happiness formed in her eye. She loved him too, but could never admit it. Nor could she admit just how much she loved him, not even to herself. As usual she didn’t kiss him until he was walking out the door.
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After he was gone, her eyes opened again, her lonely love making over. She fished out a baby wipe to wash her sticky fingers. Luckily no one had noticed that she always kept a box under her bed. He was always so good, but the return trip to reality was always such a let down. She loved him desperately, but it was true, she could never admit it to anyone. What would her family think if they knew she thought about her sister’s husband this way...and so often?
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The End…
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