I had mentioned to Charles that my husband was going to be out of town. Charles, my banker, is a handsome 28-year-old married man who’d flirted with me for the two years we’d known each other. We’ve met for cocktails after work a number of times, but I always put on the “little innocent faithful wife” act—that is, until we bumped into one another at the mall last month.
It was late at night, and I’d screwed up the laundry and ruined my bras and panties with ugly fade stains. Since I was leaving the next morning on a business trip, I rushed to the mall to buy some new things. While I was browsing through the bras, I heard a familiar voice say, “You’d be a real live Barbie Doll wearing that one, pretty lady.”
I turned to find Charles standing at my left shoulder checking out the lingerie I had draped over my arm.
“Really, Charles,” I said, “don’t you think you’re getting a little too personal?”
Our banter had been growing more risqué. Taking the lingerie from my arm, he said, “If I can’t get into your panties, at least you can let me carry them for you.”
I said, “I didn’t realize you were kinky, but have a ball. That stuff is still the store’s.”
Charles was still by my side when they announced the store was closing and I checked out. I didn’t argue when he offered to walk me to my car, since it was late. After seeing me safely there, he asked if I’d give him a ride to the other side of the mall where he was parked.
I parked by his car and was immediately embraced and tenderly kissed. As our lips parted, we looked in one another’s eyes and without saying a word kissed again. Charles cupped and gently squeezed my left breast, then slipped his hand under my top and pushed my bra above my breasts, then fondle both my naked tits. He kept it up for several minutes, getting me really worked up. A hand slipped up the loose leg of my shorts until the fingertips grazed my wet panty crotch and traced along my swollen pussy lips. I knew if I didn’t stop him I would end up getting fucked right there in a public parking lot!
Charles got it when I said this wasn’t the time or place for us to carry on. Later I discussed with my husband the possibility of my screwing Charles. The next day, after I made a deposit at the bank, I stopped at his desk and told him Bob would be out of town for two weeks starting a week from Saturday, and that Friday he called me at my office and said his wife would be visiting her parents those same dates. It only seemed natural that we go out to dinner while we were both home alone.
I met him at an all-night discount store, where I left my car and rode with him. He drove about 45 minutes to a club I’d heard of but never been to. He helped me out of the car and got an eyeful of my lacy garters and undies, like I intended. Inside, we had a light meal, then moved to the lounge and danced for an hour. As we did, we grew closer and closer. Charles’s hands became quite familiar with my ass, even as I was enjoying the long cylinder-shaped object in his pants.
When I suggested we find someplace more private, he said he had booked a room in the connecting hotel and would go register and get the key. I said I would use the ladies’ room. Finally we got to the room and he was all over me the minute we entered, and soon he had me out of my dress and bra. I helped him strip down to his boxers, and we fell onto the bed locked in a passionate embrace.
When we broke for air I had him remove my nylons so they wouldn’t get ruined. His large hands trembled as he unsnapped the garters and then peeled them off. I unhooked the garter belt and tossed it aside. While he stared at my panty-covered midsection, I purred, “Why not take those panties off? They’re just in the way.”
I raised my hips to make it easy for him to slip them off, then raised and spread my knees, giving him an unobstructed view of my pussy. His eyes moved up to my breasts, then back to my pussy. He began caressing my breasts while staring at my snatch, till I said, “What’s the matter, haven’t you ever seen a pussy before?”
He laughed and said, “Well, actually, it’s not a sight I get to see very often. My wife wears long flannel nightgowns to bed, and on those infrequent occasions when we do have sex, it’s always with the lights out. She doesn’t even like me touching her there.”
I kissed him with passion, something I normally did only with my husband— never with a lover. “Ravish me, Charles,” I whispered. “I can’t wait to feel your beautiful cock stretch and fill me.”
He explored my body with shaking hands and gasped when his fingers found the slot between my legs. I said, “Why don’t you put it in and let me feel the cock I’ve been dreaming about for months?”
He said, “I would, but it’d all be over in seconds, and I want this to last all night.”
I hugged him and said, “It will last all night. We’re going to keep doing it till we’re too exhausted to go on.”
He squirmed around to get his boxers down and moved to mount me, then paused and reached for his pants, saying, “I nearly forgot. I made sure to have condoms.” I thought I would go crazy waiting for him to get the condom, unwrap it and roll it on. Finally he lowered himself between my upraised legs. I reached to guide him. I certainly wasn’t disappointed in his size, and relished the time he took to slide it in slowly, till I felt his balls touch my ass.
He groaned and, as he expected, came almost at once, spewing a healthy load of come in me. Then his erection faded and slid out of my vagina, and he peeled the used condom off. When he caught his breath, he said, “I think it’ll be a long time before that thing gets hard again. You really drained me.”
I told him not to bet on that because I could have him up and ready to go in ten minutes, and besides that I’d found that those seldom-used units were usually repeaters. He gasped when I scooted down and took his shriveled cock in my mouth and licked it clean. As a matter of fact, it was probably a good half-hour before I began to see some signs of life in it, but I wasn’t complaining! After all, I wasn’t in any rush, and I was having a grand time sucking and nibbling on his manhood, being careful to handle it with care, knowing it was likely to be highly sensitive after his recent orgasm.
Eventually I saw signs that my patience was being rewarded. “Wow,” Charles said, “I can’t believe it!” He placed his hands on my head as it bobbed up and down on his hardening shaft. I kept as much as possible in my mouth when it grew too large for me to handle. After a while I slid up his torso until my pussy came in contact with his cock. With my hand I directed it to my entrance; then I lowered my snatch onto it. Once I had it securely embedded, I leaned forward, pressing my full breasts against his chest.
Our lips met, and we fucked looking in each other’s eyes for nearly 15 minutes, until he let out a deep groan and pumped his seed in me. When we caught our breath, I invited him to go down and take a good long look at my pussy, trying to make up for what his wife had been depriving him of. “Please, honey,” I said, “I’m not embarrassed to have you see my most intimate part. After all, we’ve had sex twice. Two people can’t get much closer than that!” He moved down between my legs and looked, touched and probed for quite a while, until he developed another erection, which he proceeded to put to good use.
It was a night of unbelievable sex. We didn’t sleep more than a few minutes at a time. Charles was like a kid on Christmas morning, not knowing what toy to play with first. Once he got up the courage to kiss my cunt, he didn’t know whether to eat it or fuck it. So he kept going back and forth. It felt fantastic whichever he did.
We didn’t leave that room until late Sunday afternoon. I suggested to Charles that we stay over and call in sick Monday morning. He said much as he’d like to, he had to be at his desk. On the way back to my car he kept thanking me for “the best weekend of my life.” We talked about getting together again the following weekend before our spouses’ return, but I think we both knew that was a bad idea. If we had allowed ourselves to go on with it, things just would have wound up getting too complicated. As it was, I knew it was going to be difficult enough just having to see him every time I go into the bank.
When my husband got home the following week, he asked if I’d “been up to anything special” to amuse myself while he was gone—meaning anything that I hadn’t mentioned during our phone conversations. “Nah,” I said, “it was, you know, just the usual stuff.”
—J.F., Kingston, Ontario