Sex stories, cheating, married woman is needed by a sexy younger man… I had, like the previous three days, noticed him before he reached my door. And like all previous times, I pretended not to notice. “Hey again, Sandy, mind if I get another glass of water?”
Turning to face him, I first smiled my answer and then confirmed it with words. “Of course not, hun. I’m surprised you can’t get into the house.” This was true. He’d been working on the house next door since my husband and I arrived last week for vacation. It was odd that he didn’t have access to the place.
“Ya, I know. My guess is that the guy thinks I’ll steal some shit or something. I guess I’d worry too – it’s not like he pays me a lot.” He laughed, and his casual profanity was more cute than offensive.
“Well, he should pay you more! You’re doing a great job. And you definitely looks like you pay attention to detail.” This was a casual comment, but he seemed to take it as an invitation. I watched as his eyes travel up and down my body.
“I do, Sandy, I really do. Like I’ve noticed that your husband leaves every morning at 8:30 and doesn’t come home until after 5.”
I was unnerved by this comment. “You’ve noticed that?”
“Yes, I have. And it isn’t even the most interesting thing that I’ve seen.” Again, I watched as his eyes slowly travelled up and down my body.
I tried to take control of the conversation. “Really? Have you noticed that I’m twice your age?”
“I’m not interested in your age.”
I couldn’t ask the obvious question because it was clear what he was interested in. “Maybe you should go now.”
“I don’t want to, Sandy. Do you want me to leave?”
I wasn’t sure, so I gave him a non-answer. “I’m married.”
“I don’t care.” From his stare, I believed him.
My response was true, but it left an opening. “But I should care.”
He stepped closer and whispered, “You should do what makes you happy.” My heart was racing, but I did not back away.
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He reached down, took my hand in his, and whispered again. “Sandy, no one will ever know. Nobody.” With my hand in his, our eyes locked on each other, we shared silence.
“I’m getting back to work. If you want me, leave your door open tomorrow morning after your husband leaves.”
Dinner with my husband was pleasant, but quiet. He asked me what was on my mind, and I confessed to having too many different things going and I didn’t know how to explain just one. “You know I get, hun. I’m just thinking.”
And I was. I was wondering what I should do. Well, I knew what I should do; I just wasn’t sure what I would do. The evening was quiet, we went to bed at our normal time, but I couldn’t sleep.
I kept thinking about him, about his toned body, about his confidence. I liked that he was so tall, and so muscular. His skin looked perfect, even the areas he had tattooed were sensual.
He seemed demanding, and dominant, but was he honest? If I left that door open, would it remain a secret? And what would I regret more? Leaving the door open, or keeping it closed.
I decided to keep it closed. But even then my sleep wasn’t restful.
When I woke, I felt confident in my decision. I got up, kissed my husband on his forehead, and took a quick shower. When I was done, we switched places. I put on my bathrobe, and went to make us breakfast. This was our normal dance. I would cook him eggs and prepare fruit and yogurt for myself.
Breakfast was nice, and the coffee even nicer. I had 2 cups, which was rare for me. Still, though, I was quiet, but quietly confident in my decision. My husband noticed that I was lost in thought.
“You still wrestling with your issues, Sandy?”
“I guess I am. Sorry, I don’t want to be a downer.”
“Oh, babe, you are never a downer! And you always know what to do. You’ll work through these issues.”
“Thanks. You always know what to say.” And this was true, my husband had a gift of knowing how to push me in the right direction. I’ve come to depend on it.
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He kept talking as he put his dishes in the sink. “Well, you always know what to do. So if you’re having a tough time, Sandy, just remember this. Sometimes the world doesn’t fit in our heads, and when it doesn’t, we just have to open the door and let life take over.”
I couldn’t believe what I just heard, but I knew in my heart he was right.
Just a few minutes later, after brushing our teeth, we kissed at the front door. My husband dressed in his casual day work clothes, and me still in my bathrobe. “I’ll see you tonight, babe. Have a great day, and don’t take life so seriously.”
He kissed my cheek again, and I watched him walk to the car. I retreated into the house as he drove away, but I didn’t close the door.
“Don’t move.” I froze when I heard his voice, and I became nervous when I heard the door close. I felt his breath on my neck before he spoke again. “Good decision.”
I tried to turn to face him, but he didn’t allow it. “Not yet, Sandy. This is what I want.” And with that he began kissing my neck and ears, and running his strong hands along the length of my body.
He pulled my bathrobe from me and let it fall to the floor, and the heat of his skin let me know he was shirtless. He never stopped kissing my neck, but when he pulled one hand from my body, I knew what he was doing. I saw him kick his shorts and underwear to the side.
He whispered in my ear. “You’re fucking hot, know that?” And when I moaned slightly, he grabbed a breast. Hard. “You like that? You like it rough?” I just moaned quietly again, as my body was completely aroused. “I knew you’d have fucking perfect tits.” He squeezed hard again. “They’re fucking huge, Sandy. You know that?” I grunted again, now lost in this crazy interaction.
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“On the table.” I didn’t fully understand, but it didn’t matter — he pushed me down on the kitchen table. “Look at that ass! You’re so fucking hot.” I didn’t know what to expect, but I knew I didn’t want it to stop.
“Turn your head.” I complied, after I turned my head to face him, he rested his left hand across my cheek and ear so I couldn’t move. With his right hand he reached between my legs. “You’re dripping. You’re fucking dripping wet. You fucking need this.”
I gave into his probing completely, but his movements weren’t the only things on my mind. Facing me was a very hard, very vascular penis. There were so many striking features. His length and girth were spectacular, and his testes — large and heavy — hung far below.
But what amazed me was how wet it looked. When my husband gets very excited he sometimes produces a drop of precum. Three inches from my nose was a growing pool of it on the table. That’s when I understood, he didn’t want me, he needed me.
“Fuck, Sandy, I can barely get two fingers into you. You’re gonna fucking love this.” But he didn’t rush. He made love to me with his fingers, and only after I exploded with my first orgasm did he move from the side.
“Pretty good, huh? You fucking loved that, didn’t you?”
“Yes! Yes!” And these were the first words I had spoken.
“It’s gonna get better.” He moved behind me, and rubbed his penis against my opening. “You’re ready for some real cock, Sandy, aren’t you?” I didn’t respond, and he kept teasing me. “Beg me, bitch. Beg me for some real cock.” I held back. “It’s ok,” I heard him whisper, “you’ll learn to beg.”
He pushed into me. I wasn’t prepared for his size, so it was slow going at first. But he was relentless. Finally, thankfully, my body accepted his, and he began to take me. His thrusts were long and powerful, and steady. His pace, once he reached it, was constant. He was a machine, and I loved it. My body responded quickly to his, and as he promised, my orgasm was powerful.
When it struck, he held me tight. I felt my body pulsating around his penis, which was deeper than any before. When I thought it was over, he brought me right back by stroking fingers across my clit.
“You like that, don’t you.” I panted an unintelligible answer, but he knew the truth. “Now it’s my turn.”
“Please be careful,” I panted. “No,” was all he said. And then he began to take me. He made love to me on that table with a pace and a force that was unimaginable. At first I tried to keep pace, but eventually gave up. My job was to hold on to the table, and let him take charge.
I knew he was getting close, and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him. What I didn’t expect was my response. When he buried himself deep inside me and let out a scream, I felt the pressure of his release. His orgasm induced one of my own, and I rode him as hard as I could.
We panted in place. I had no idea what to expect, but I knew what had just happened. I just had the most exciting sexual experience of my life. “Let go of the table. I’m going to roll you over.” I complied.
Now on my back, and facing him for the first time, I found him irresistible. Still inside me, he bent his body over mine to kiss me. After breaking our short, sweet embrace he looked me in the eyes. “I love you.” I was shocked to hear it, and he didn’t wait for a response.
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“Wrap your arms and legs around me and hold on.” I did as I was told and he lifted me into the air. He carried me this way, with his penis still inside me, to my bedroom. He gently placed me on the bed, and stayed on top of me.
“You have no idea how badly I needed that.” He confessed between kisses. We lay on the bed as two lovers, gently kissing each other, and feeling each other’s skin. “You’re so beautiful, Sandy, you’re just so beautiful.” His body was exactly the same, but his demeanor was different. His words seemed to come from a different man.
As the intensity of our kissing picked up, I noticed that another thing hadn’t changed. He was still hard. It was almost imperceptible at first, but eventually a pattern emerged. He was beginning to make love to me again. And while the kitchen seemed so wonderful, but so wrong, this started feeling perfect.
We engaged in a form of lovemaking that every human has enjoyed, that older couples are known for, that the religious might be limited to. I felt him reach parts of me I didn’t know existed, and I felt I was reaching parts of him he didn’t know existed. The words we shared, when we shared them, were familiar, loving. Our bodies matched each other’s, and just before we came together, he lifted one of my legs to ensure that we couldn’t get any closer.
We simply kissed as he softened within me, and I think we were both sad to hear him whisper the words, “I have to go now.” I stood by him as he dressed, and walked him to the door. It was not one of my more graceful moments, as we were both aware that evidence of our love was flowing from my body.
“I’ll see you at 3:30.” And with that he left me alone in the kitchen, alone with my thoughts, and new memories.
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I was prepared for him when he came back, but not in the way he expected. Having had time to think, and feeling the intensity of the experience, I knew I had to end it already.
“Hey, hun, we have to talk.”
“Sure, but can we do it in 10 minutes? I’m going to use your shower first.”
He walked right past me before I could stop him. Still, I could use the extra few minutes to prepare myself. He would just have to understand that this was a one-time thing.
He called from the bedroom. “My God, girl, you make everything look great!” I knew he must have been flattering me, because I dressed for the breakup. An old concert tee-shirt and jean shorts is not exactly fashionable!
“Get in here.” I should have called him to the kitchen, but I followed his voice to the bedroom. He was naked.
“You were awesome, Sandy. I loved every minute of this morning. You’re probably having doubts, but I’m not. Sit on the bed.” I complied. He moved in close, placed his hand on my head, and gently rocked his hips back and forth.
His penis began to grow and swing from side to side, and I watched as he spoke. “I need all of you, Sandy. And I need it every day.” His swinging brought his penis closer and closer to my lips, and the gentle tug of his hand made his intentions clear.
“Look, I don’t think …” I wasn’t able to finish my sentence as the head of his penis rested on my lips. “Sorry, Sandy, my mistake. Now what were you saying?”
“I was trying to say …” And then his penis interrupted me again. I looked up at him, and him down at me. I should have been furious, but I laughed. And when I did, he pushed his head into my mouth.
He looked down at me and spoke. “I get what you want to say. But think about this. No one you have ever met wants you as badly as I do. No one. And your vacation will be over soon. You’ll be gone, I’ll be gone, no problem. But right now I have one problem. I fucking need you.”
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He just paused and waited. He was very bold, but very honest. I started stroking him with one hand and then with both. I licked his head, licked his shaft, and then took him into my mouth. I wanted to be great for him. I cradled his balls in my fingers, then gently sucked on each, I stroked him with long strokes, I took him deep into my mouth. I did everything a woman could do to please a man.
“Oh, fuck, baby I’m close. Does this excite you? Do you like feeling my cock in your mouth?”
“Fuck — that’s so hot. Take those shorts off.”
I pulled from him. “Not now.”
“I said take those fucking shorts off and get that sweet ass on the bed. I’m never gonna want to cum in that gorgeous mouth what I can fill that perfect pussy.” His word were rude, but honest. He loved me the way all biological creatures show love for their mates. He needed to be inside me.
I lay back for him and he mounted me once more. My body was sore, but he was not to be denied. He extracted from me orgasm after orgasm, and then finally, with my calves on his shoulders, he came in me again. The passion of the moment was too real, and the truth too deep. I could speak only two words. “Thank you.”