By gullyfoyle on Monday, April 27, 2009 - 5:25 pm:

Early HW Experience Part I

A recent post by funoralcouple (Was More Than I Expected) reminded me of an event that happened when I was very young.

I found myself in a very exciting, very passionate relationship with an "older" woman - that is, in her early thirties, to my 19 years. She was a warm, sexually uninhibited and physically gorgeous woman who'd been a "bad girl virgin" briefly in high school, got pregnant in college, married her handsome quarterback boyfriend who was a senior, and abandoned her career plans to have two more kids with him.

He, meanwhile, had been recruited by a very high-powered company and had done well.

Storybook stuff, except that he'd been cheating on her in recent years, as his career had taken off, and she'd become restless, dissatisfied, and hurt. She'd gone back to school, finished her degree and was in grad school.

We met, were attracted to each other (I took her for a very athletically fit 20-something, as did most people) and immediately the flirtation went sexual. She was an inexhaustible lover - and the15 year age difference was, from a sexual point of view, perfect. Part of me still feels (and I'm now in my 50's) that every woman 35 and over should have a lover under 25, at least occasionally.

By the time I took stock of what I’d gotten into – having completely amazing sex with a married mother of three who was almost 15 years older than me - I was hooked. I had the good sense not to make it an exclusive thing but that’s about as far as my good sense went at that point.

Thing is, her husband found out. There was a huge blow-up, as you'd expect. But from what she told me, they sent the kids to stay overnight with a relative and fought until dawn. Exhausted, they fell into bed, and ended up having "the best sex of our entire marriage."

I considered myself lucky to have come out of all this with my life, but I was also sad because it seemed clear that our affair was over. Since I'd continued to see others, though moving on happened naturally and more or less easily. I missed her a lot, but ya live and learn.

But a few weeks later, she got in touch. She wanted to get together, just to talk.

My passion for her hadn't ebbed one bit, and my common sense hadn't grown much in the weeks we'd been apart. Actually, it may have deteriorated. We weren't more than five minutes into our "talk" before I had her in my arms and we were furiously necking. We went back to her car, where she opened my jeans as I opened her blouse and we continued kissing.

I wanted to get her pants off really bad, but she wouldn't let me. Instead, she bent to take me in her mouth, and as she usually did, she put my hands on her head. She didn't like to have my cock forced into her mouth, and didn't like me to "hold" her head as she sucked me, but she loved putting my hands on her head, and to have my fingers in her hair stroking and pulling it, gently holding the hair at the back of her head in my fist as she sucked me, stroking her breasts, her neck and ears with my other hand.

She told me - as it seems a fair number of married women do - that she rarely sucked her husband, but she LOVED sucking me. It showed, and if anything, she seemed even more into it that usual.

I didn't want to come. I wanted to fuck her. What had been a nagging desire for the time we'd been apart became an urgent obsession. I wanted her back in my life.

I pulled her up from my lap, kissed her hard, caught my breath, and whispered in her ear "the hotel. Right away."

She was saying something like “Gully, no … I can’t …” but I got out of her car, cranked up my bike and took off like a bat out of hell. I didn't dare look back to see if she was following me. I parked, went into the lobby and as I was putting money on the counter for a night (yeah, you could do that back then) she came into the lobby, brushed her hair back with her hand and went into the lounge. The desk clerk saw me watching her and murmured "nice ..."

Nice, indeed.

I took the key (real, honest to gosh key, with a fob that said “If found, please drop in nearest mailbox” ... hah!) and went into the lounge. Minutes later, we were on our way up to the room, having endured the knowing gaze of the desk twerp.

In the room, our clothes flew and I drew her to the bed where I fell back ward with her on top of me. She slid down to resume sucking my cock, kneeling on the floor between my knees.

She sucked me furiously, the way she did when she wanted to swallow my come as quickly as possible. She was playing with herself, and very soon she was making her come cries, holding my cock as deep as she could while she rode out an orgasm as it began to calm, she resumed sliding up and down my length, devoting both hands now to stroking my shaft and balls as she sucked me to a very speedy, very intense orgasm.

I lay there breathless as she continued sucking me. Eventually, I drew her up to lie with me on the bed. We cuddled and kissed and began to head into round two with the speed and ease that only a very young man can muster.

I interrupted our lovemaking to strip the bedspread off, and to get her between the sheets with me. We settled in for a long, hot lovemaking session. It was during our third round, I think, as she crouched over me with my hands on her ass, my cock deep in her cunt, her lips pressed to my neck, her breath soft in my ear, that she began telling me about the night her husband had confronted her with what he knew about us, and she had in turn confronted him with what she knew about HIS affairs.

She clearly got turned on by telling me all of it, particularly as she started telling me how good the sex had been with him that weekend. It turned her on telling me, but hearing it had the opposite effect on me.I found it disconcerting. In fact, I started to lose my hardon, which was, itself, disconcerting! She didn’t seem to notice, though, and just kept riding my half-hard cock, sighing and moaning and kissing my neck, and had at least one orgasm during that time.

Eventually, with her kissing and whispering and the feeling of her magical cunt on my cock, I became fully aroused again. She began riding me toward my orgasm and sat up straight, smiling down at me, enjoying the ride, as it were, and telling me how much she loved fucking me, how much she’d missed me, etc.

In the back of my mind, I thought, “this is definitely goodbye sex.”

The mindblower came after we were lying there recovering, sweaty, exhausted, happy.

She snuggled against me and said “there’s something else.”

Uh oh.

“No, it’s OK … in fact, it’s good, I think. Maybe. Just … don’t freak out, OK?”

I was young and foolish and so I promised. (Older and wiser now, I know there’s no way to be sure how you’ll feel about something until you feel it.)

“He was really mad and hurt when he found out about us.”

“I know, of course he was. Don’t remind me.”

“But that’s not all. He also liked it, in a way.”

“Huh?”

“Well … as we talked and as he kept pressing for more details, I realized that it turned him on. The thing is, as that became harder and harder to ignore, the fact that it turned him on seemed so strange and … well … kind of amazing. Kind of wonderful. It turned ME on, knowing that the sex I have with you turned HIM on. And telling him was exciting. I felt really naughty and sexy and also sort of perverted at the same time, you know? And the more he asked, the more I wanted to tell him.”

“So you mean you told him, like … DETAILS? He doesn’t just know we were having an affair … he knows what we do together?”

“You promised not to freak out …”

“But this is soooo freaky! What did you tell him?”

“Everything, pretty much. I told him … well, everything. How we met, about the first time you kissed me … everything.”

This began to sink in.

“He just kept asking more and more specific questions and I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea to go into it all. But he really wanted to hear it. Once I got over feeling really ashamed about it, I figured I owed him that much, so I just told him whatever he wanted to know. And pretty soon I realized he was really turned on. He saw that I’d noticed he had a hardon in his pants and he seemed really embarrassed, so I kissed him and his kiss was like … well, it was the most passionate I’ve ever seen him. So I kissed him again and touched the front of his pants and he pushed my hand away. He was embarrassed, but he kept on kissing me. I realized he was close to coming, so I just took his hand and we went to the bedroom.

“I was sort of bewildered by it all, so I just took him in and sat him on the edge of the bed and undressed as he watched me. Then I stood in front of him and he pulled me to him and immediately pressed his face against the front of my panties.

Now, I knew that cunnilingus was something her husband didn’t do. Just didn’t. Said it seemed unmanly. But on that occasion, he seemed to want to do it, so she just peeled off her panties, lay back on the bed, and he went down on her.

“He wasn’t good at it all, really,” she said, “but the whole situation had me really turned on. And I had an orgasm, mostly from pushing his face against me and just rubbing myself on his face. And then, suddenly … oh, this is so strange, but so sexy, too … I realized from the movements of his body that while he was down there, he’d reached down and was playing with himself. He came almost immediately, and although I had my legs wide apart and my knees up, I felt some of it land way up on my thigh and felt him moaning into me down there. I had another orgasm, too.”

“Now, usually, after he comes, he’s done, but not then. We ended up having sex off and on for hours. It wasn’t the greatest sex ever, but it was definitely the best it’s ever been between him and me.”

I think I may have said “wow” or something equally insightful. (Gimme a break. I was a 19 year-old adulterer.)

“There’s more,” she said. “Now, promise you won’t freak out.” That again!

“He wants to watch us.”

I was speechless.

“Now, I told him I didn’t know if I was ok it, but I’d think about it. It’s just … he’s apparently thought about seeing me with someone for a long time and felt really guilty about it. He says he thinks it came from his guilt about his own affairs, which were apparently not very good. Mostly one or two night stands and “on the road” things at conferences or whatever. He says it was when that was sort of at a peak that he started thinking about me – you know – being sexual with someone else. And then when he started to suspect I was having an affair, he was really angry and hurt, but he was also really confused because it turned him on.

“Anyway, so … when we were in bed that day the kids were at M___ and T___’s, we talked a lot, including while we were doing things, you know? I mean, you and I do that all the time, but we’d never done that. And he really, really loved it. And he … well, he asked to close my eyes and pretend I was sucking you. So I did. And I showed him how to put his hands on my head like you do. And … well … he got really excited and wanted me to get on top of him and close my eyes and use your name while I was on top.

“It was actually pretty exciting, once I got past the strangeness of it. But when he said he wanted to really watch us, I didn’t really know that to think.”

At this point, I pretty much had to interrupt. “So wait a minute,” I said “you mean he wants us to keep being together?”

“Strange, isn’t it?”

“I’ll say.”

There was a long pause. She spoke first, sounding hurt.

“You don’t want to, do you? Now that he knows, you don’t want to be with me any more. It’s OK … I can’t really blame you. It’s just … weird.”

I didn’t answer for a long time.

“How would it work?”

“How would what work?”

“How would he – you know – watch us.”

She swallowed hard and her voice was a little shaky.

See, my first reaction was NO FUCKING WAY!

But the thing is, I was really, truly captivated by her. I don’t know if I was in love with her – didn’t know then, either – but I loved being with her, and I didn’t want it to end. I wasn’t sure I could handle this strange twist, but something kept me from just saying so.

“Well …” she started very tentatively, “if we do this, I think he doesn’t want you to know. So I guess we’d have to pretend. He wants to watch, like through a window or something. Some way so that he can leave if it’s too much for him. He’s not really sure he can stand it, but he wants it.”

More later.

By gullyfoyle on Monday, April 27, 2009 - 5:28 pm:

Early HW Experience Part II

First, let me apologize. I went back and tried to read my first post, and had to stop. It’s FULL of typo’s, grammatical errors, etc.

I guess posting these stories isn’t as easy as the best posters make it seem. I really should have proofread it before posting, so I apologize.

And I apologize doubly because I’m probably not going to proofread this one, either. It’s just more time than I can give to this. I never realized how difficult it is to write reasonably well while reminiscing about some of the most sexually maddening events of one’s life.

So … she told me he wanted to watch.

I was appalled. Our time together had always been ours … it had always been secret (though some who traveled in our circles seemed to suspect something) and that had, I realized, helped make it special.

The fact that “he” knew was disturbing. The fact that we might actually be together with him watching was even more disturbing.

But I really, really didn’t want this to end, I realized.

I was also vaguely aware that as crazy as this was getting, it could get crazier. He could freak out, get stupid, get violent, etc.

He was no longer the college athlete he’d once been, but he was no pushover, either. I had NO interest in tangling with him, though my 19 year-old ego was pretty sure I could take him. Then again, I was pretty sure back then that I could take anyone, and we all know how foolish THAT is.

Overriding all of that, though, was the simple fact that I didn’t want the affair to end. She hadn’t presented it as an ultimatum, but I think I sort of saw it that way. I was sleeping with his wife; she wasn’t going to leave him, and honestly, I didn’t want her to. If she had, I would have ended the relationship myself. No way I was ready to settle down. But I wanted this woman in my life. Pretty typical adolescent male thinking, come to think of it.

So I lay there with her nestled up against me and said “I’ll think about it.”

“REALLY?” she asked, “you will? I thought for sure you’d say no. God, Gully I thought you’d be done with me just for mentioning it. You’ll really think about it?”

“Yeah. But answer me this: if I decide no, will you keep seeing me?”

This time the pause was long. Seemed like forever.

Then I realized she was crying. Fucking crying! “I don’t know if I can stop.”

We fucked long and slow. “I’ll call you.” She stayed in the room after I left.

She told me later, and those of you who are wise in this stuff will not be surprised, that she called her husband at work and he came over and they had sex in the bed where we’d “reunited.”

I had no idea what I’d landed in, and neither, really, did they.

For the next few weeks, we continued to get together when we could. She didn’t bring up “the issue” and neither did I. For a while I pretended I wasn’t thinking about it. But once when the desk clerk gave me a room on the ground floor, I stopped and felt my face flush.

“A higher floor,” I said, and he changed the room.

So it was me that brought it up.

“So … does he know we’re still seeing each other?”

We were lying in a tangle of damp sheets. She was drowsing on my chest.

“Yeah … I think so. No, that’s not true. He knows. He asked me a while back about it, and I told him he had to be patient with me. He backed off. But he knows. Everything seems different with him somehow.”

“?”

“Well … you know. Sexually. He wants sex more often. And during sex, he asks me if I’m thinking about you.”

“And?”

“Sometimes I am. Sometimes I’m not thinking about anything, really, you know? But when I am, I tell him.”

“And?”

“And it turns him on. He goes down on me all the time now and I KNOW he’s pretending I’ve just been with you. A couple of times, I had.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. He stopped me once when I was heading to the shower. Remember after the ______ meeting, when we went to the park? I went home, and he was there, and I headed for the shower because I could just tell when he kissed me in the kitchen, he was going to want sex. He wouldn’t let me. He got, like … completely into it. ‘You’ve been with him, haven’t you … haven’t you?’ and he wouldn’t stop. He finally sort of got me going, you know? I mean … it’s crazy, but it’s exciting. He just really wanted to have sex. And he kissed me and I’d given you oral just like, an hour earlier and the thought of it – the thought that maybe he could taste you … I don’t know. It was sick, I guess, but it was exciting. I’m terrible, but I loved that I’d just had you in my mouth, coming, and now he was kissing me. And then the next thing I knew, I was on the bed, and he had my jeans off and was licking me through my panties and I KNEW they were wet from both of us, and I kept telling him to stop, but he pulled them aside and he licked me and I came really fast and really hard.

“Do you think I’m terrible? God, I feel like such a whore. He licked me and I know he was licking your stuff out of me. And then he tried to fuck me, but he came as soon as he got near me. Even that turned me on. He came all over the place, and I touched myself and had an orgasm right away. I felt wonderful and awful all at the same time. He just laid there on me and caught his breath and then he said ‘when can I watch?’ He sounded so … I don’t know. Pathetic.

“Since that afternoon, he wants to go down on me all the time. Sometimes he has an orgasm while he’s doing it; sometimes he fucks me. Sometimes he tries to, and can’t – he comes before he can get in me. And he asks me to give him oral and the whole time, he keeps saying things like “is this how you do it to him? Is this what you look like when you’re with him?”

I was appalled and intrigued by all this. I had no frame of reference for it at all. Neither, really, did she. It actually became something that bonded us further, I think. Neither of us really knew what to do. Somewhere during that time, she fessed up to me about the time she’d called him at work to come to our “used” hotel room. I just went with it.

And then, one afternoon, after sex, she said “how come you never come over to my house any more?”

We’d frequently had sex in their house during the day, or when the kids were at relatives’ and her husband was traveling for business. It was great. Their house was perfect. There was what I guess you’d call a “great room” in some parts of the country. It had been our favorite place to be together. Private, nicely furnished, there was even a bar and a small fridge.

We could take a dip in their pool, come back inside, and make use of the deep carpets, the various hassocks and couches … the stereo. It was good.

“I think you know why.”

“You’re worried he’ll be there. Watching.”

“Something like that.”

“I wouldn’t do that, you know. I wouldn’t let him watch without you knowing. It’s awful, I know, but I’d sooner deceive him than you. That’s why I told you he wanted to watch. I couldn’t not tell you.”

“Let’s do it.”

“What?”

“I’m ready. Let’s let him watch. Set it up. We’ll be at the motel, I’ll get a courtyard room. He can get one, too, and just go out into the center court and sneak over and watch us from the patio.”

“You’re serious.”

“I am. What the fuck? If it means we can still see each other, why not? I mean … it’s OK with me, if he wants to watch, if it’s OK with you. If it’s not OK with you, then I guess we’re just postponing the inevitable. Eventually, he’s going to start pushing, and we both know what’ll happen then. He’ll tell you to stop seeing me and you’ll have to go along.”

We went back and forth about it. She’d really been relying on my reluctance to keep her from having to go through with it. But she knew I was right. We had to give him something, or call it quits. Neither of us wanted that.

So that’s what we did.

About two weeks later, it was “showtime.”

By gullyfoyle on Monday, April 27, 2009 - 5:30 pm:

Early HW Experience Part III

The next couple of weeks were sort of strange for both of us.

She didn’t tell her husband what was coming. For reasons of her own, she preferred to wait and tell him at the last minute. She didn’t really trust that he wouldn’t get “up to something” though she never really put her finger on what “something” might be. She just didn’t want to give him a lot of forewarning.

Meanwhile, she and I went through sort of a roller coaster. I had no idea what it would be like, knowing her husband was watching us. I’d had sex in front of other people before – everything from double dates in someone’s family station wagon to parties where there just weren’t enough private places to go fool around. Camping trips, stuff like that. But this was different. I was actually pretty nervous. I’d nearly lost my erection when she’d first told me about his fascination with our lovemaking. How the hell was I going to handle knowing he was actually out there watching us, probably jerking off??

And looking back, I’m sort of amused at one of the concerns it took me a while to confess to her. At some point, when we were lying in bed together, I asked her about his dick.

She smiled at me, teased my nipple with a fingernail, and said “you’re worried about that, aren’t you?”

“Of course not! I’m just … I mean … OK, he’s going to see us together and he’s going to see mine, so … never mind.”

She smiled. “He’s bigger than you, OK? I don’t have a huge amount of knowledge about these things, but you’re about average, and he’s a little above average, I’d say. I can’t believe how important that is to you boys. Are you surprised?”

I realized that I was, and told her so. She teased me, accusing me of thinking all that time that she was with me because her husband had a small penis. “Well, he doesn’t,” she mocked. “And neither do you.”

I’d never been particularly concerned about the size of my cock, but I couldn’t help comparing myself to him in my mind. I mean, I knew I wasn’t huge, but I guess I’d assumed that her husband was smaller, and I think in the back of my mind, I may have assumed it had something to do with why she was with me. In a way, I was glad it wasn’t that. She really, really loved sex with me, was even willing to risk a lot to keep on with it, and apparently it wasn’t because of my dick. How ‘bout that? She teased me about it a little and we made love some more.

There was another thing bothering me. “How do you know he isn’t just trying to make a case to divorce you or something? How do you know he won’t take pictures or send a private divorce detective just so he can screw you out of everything and divorce you?”

“Wow … you’re getting good at this! It’s a little scary! But you’re a dear for worrying about me. I thought of all that, though. For one thing, I’ve already spoken to our attorney about my husband’s affairs, and he knows that. He knows, or suspects, that I can prove it. I’ve never cheated before this, and he knows that, too. The last thing he’d want is me dragging witnesses from his business into a big court thing. So finally, he’s got more to lose by that than I do. Plus, you’d have to have been there all those times when he’s asked me to tell him about our lovemaking to understand how much he loves this. Hates it, sure, but he loves it. Believe me, making a case for divorce is the last thing on his mind.”
We were both horny as teenagers after we’d decided to go through with it. But we were also nervous. She came up with a good plan to calm our nerves.

She turned it into a game. We deliberately made love where he could have been watching at any time for almost two weeks. At the hotel, we took ground floor courtyard rooms with private patios. In her car, we knew he could watch us from somewhere nearby. We even went back to her house twice, during the day. He could have been in the house, he could have been watching through a window. Once, she actually had me stand by the patio doors leading out to their yard and she sucked me off. He could have been literally a few feet away.

But what really amazed me about this period of time was how much pretending he was watching began to be a turn on for both of us, especially her. She seemed to get especially hot when play-acting a performance for him while going down on me. She’d position us just so, and spend a long time just necking. She was an amazing kisser and would kiss for hours, especially when we had a whole afternoon together and could walk around a park, or go to a movie … we’d kiss and fondle each other and neck in the car, and duck into doorways … she’d just get hornier and hornier until finally we were someplace where we could go at each other.

During that week or so of pretending he was watching, she’d make it as realistic as possible. While we were necking, she’d ask me to tease her nipples or open her shirt or peel down her panties.

She’d whisper something like “do it slow … he’s watching” or “he wanted to see you suck my nipples …” or “Let me kneel between your legs - I want him to see me from behind, so he can see how I get when I suck you …”

It was crazy, and it was incredibly arousing. She had always been such an intriguing mix of class and horniness, and this situation just made those contrasts more complete. This’ll seem tame to a lot of you, I suppose, but once, when she was sucking me, she looked up and said “show him what a whore I am … use me like a whore.”

With those words, she held my cock up and went down to suck my balls and I began to spurt in her hand. The first huge spurt went over her shoulder and down her slender back to her ass. She felt it and with a loud groan, quickly took my cock in her mouth, milking my shaft and pulling my ass toward her with her free hand, making me pump into her mouth.

She usually preferred that I not actually move back and forth in her mouth, preferring to do it all herself, but this time, she had one hand on my shaft, and one on my ass, urging me to fuck her mouth. Once I got the message and started really stroking into her mouth, the hand on my cock went to her pussy, and she cried out with an orgasm. Her face was red, veins were standing out on her neck and she was putting her whole being into taking my cock into her throat, milking me.

It was an amazing sight, and an amazing sensation for both of us. It was actually kind of funny, because I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I didn’t dare put my hands on her head or in her hair, which she really likes, because the whole situation was so physically out of control. I was afraid I’d hurt her if I put my hands on her head – afraid I’d fuck her too hard, choke her, whatever.

I remember standing there, my fists clenched behind my head as she screamed with a mouthful of my cock and my semen, coming on her own fingers as I let out a sound that must have frightened the neighbors.

She took her time then, swallowing, sucking, sliding my cock in and out of her mouth very slowly as it shrank some, her body still twitching now and then with “little ones” as she called them – tiny orgasms, tremors. I could barely stand. My hands were in her hair now, caressing her, stroking her, loving her as she tenderly sucked the last of it out of me. When she finally let my cock slip out of her mouth, she looked up at me dreamy eyed and still breathless, smiling a little, her lips puffy and full, my semen smeared around her lips and chin. I gently slid some sperm off her upper lip and she sucked it off my fingers.

“That was wonderful. Fuck me now. Show him how you fuck me.”

So, after more than a week of “being watched” as a part of our foreplay, indeed as part of our sex, she said to me as we were kissing good night where she’d dropped me off at my motorcycle “So sometime this week, he’ll be watching. I’ll call him right before it’s time and he’ll be watching.” I think part of what was really making her get into this was the fact that she LOVED having the upper hand, not only with him, but also with me. As if she didn’t already have the upper hand with me! LOL!

Anyway, only she would know when we were being watched.

We’d been together both Monday afternoon and Tuesday evening. Each time, I was pretty sure he was watching for real, though really, it was no different thatn any of the times we’d pretended he was.

But on Thursday evening, we met at the hotel, and she seemed different. I saw here car pull up and park and I saw her scan the lot as she got out. Looking for his car, maybe? And she looked left and right as she approached the front doors.

I stepped into the lounge a couple of steps and watched her look around. For me? For him? Who knew?

I did know this: far from being nervous, the suspicion that this was the real thing made me horny. I got hard seeing how nervous she seemed. The clincher was when she went to the front desk and paid for a room. When the clerk tried to give her the key she said something to him and he returned it to the cubby hole, wrote something down, and gave her a receipt. When she turned to come to the lounge, I ducked further in and sat at the bar. I didn’t let on that I’d seen her come in.

Ah, the games we play, even when we don’t need to!

She continued to seem nervous. I saw her looking around the room nonchalantly, but I was pretty sure she was looking for him.

It actually kind of pissed me off, even as it turned me on. On impulse, I pulled her off the stool she was sitting on, and drew her between my spread legs. I know I haven’t actually described her – no need, since you can all fill in your own best notions about what a rich, slightly pampered 30-something suburban Mom of the late 60’s to early 70’s would like for yourselves. To me, she was simply one of the most gorgeous women I’d ever known and although I’d been with other women who were older than me by a few years, she was the only one more than about 6 or 7 years older. She was universally considered a knockout, although back then, women in their 30’s with kids weren’t held in the same high regard as they are now. Most guys my age would have had nothing to do with a woman of her age and experience. Even guys her age sometimes thought of women in their 30’s as a bit past it. It was a youth-obsessed time.

But as I pulled her slender waist to me, her hands went nervously to my shoulders. Public displays of affection were not as commonplace then as they are now, and she was, after all, a lady. She seemed both tense and eager. I smiled into her eyes and said “you’re mine.”

Apparently, it was the right thing to say. We didn’t order drinks. She just looked deep into my eyes, her breathing seemed to get faster and she whispered. “Let’s go.”

More, soon-ish.

By gullyfoyle on Monday, April 27, 2009 - 5:32 pm:

Early Hot Wife Experience Part IV

I originally started writing this because something in someone else's post (it's below, titled something like "more than I expected") reminded me of this affair. The funny thing is, I STILL haven't gotten to the part that the other story reminded me of. Well, no matter. I'm enjoying reminiscing about this strange, wonderful time in my life.

The first three parts were posted earlier, in a single thread. Might want to check those out first and see if this is your cup of tea.

Thanks for the comments and for the emails at my WL address. And no, I don't have any pics of her. We did take some Polaroids; no idea what became of them. LOL! I'm betting her husband has some of them, if he's still around.

So after more than a week of getting used to the idea – of getting over our nervousness and actually getting turned on by the idea – it was pretty clear that tonight was the night. We’d both left a meeting earlier and I’d arrived at the hotel first. I’d seen her scoping out the parking lot when she arrived, and I’d watched her get a room, but leave the key at the front desk. So he was going to take a room, as she’d said he would, and watch us from the patio.

We’d hastily left the lounge together, both of us wordlessly acknowledging that this was “it.” She was so high strung – I’d never seen her this way. It was partly nervousness, of course, but there was a crackling overlay of arousal. She was clearly turned on by all of this. It would have been intimidating if it hadn’t been so exciting. She was on fire, and it was catching.

Arriving at our room was a bit of an anticlimax. She’d set it up that her husband would call the room phone and let it ring three times to signal that he’d arrived and was headed to our patio on the courtyard. So now there we were, turned on, fidgety as hell, in a hotel room, and I had no idea what to do. It was too soon to start making love, although we were incredibly horny. He couldn’t possibly have gotten checked into his room already.

I should have known she’d be ready, though. As I tried to pull her to me, she wriggled free and said something like “hold your horses, cowboy” and I stood there watching as she reached into her purse, gave me a smile, and pulled out a bunch of little “airline miniatures” of Chivas. She was downright chatty, moving happily and gracefully around the room, pulling the bedspread off the bed, and pouring us each a drink in a couple of water glasses. Hostess with the mostest.

“We have to give him time to get in place and give YOU some time to collect yourself. Now, go take a hot shower while I get some ice in the bucket. Or maybe a cold shower is a better idea? Go!”

“Skip the ice,” I said, and took one of the little bottles of scotch into the bathroom with me.

When I came out of the bathroom, there was a scarf tossed over the bedside lamp, and she was tuning the radio. The room reeked of pot. She looked wonderful. I hadn’t known what to expect when I came out of the bathroom, so I’d pulled on my jeans I was drying my hair when she came up to me, took the towel, tossed it behind me into the bathroom and whispered “let’s dance.” I saw that she had a joint in her hand - she loved to be high during sex. We passed the joint back and forth a couple of times as we swayed to the music together, not speaking, finally setting the roach down in the ashtray.

Now this, too was new: we’d actually never danced before. But she settled up against me and when I whispered “Is he …” she shushed me and put a finger to my lips. “Let’s dance,” she said again, and put her arms around my neck, kissing me softly as her hips continued to sway. Apparently, he’d called while was in the shower. Guess he was in as much of a hurry as I was.

We danced. I noticed that the heavy curtains to the patio were closed, but with about a five-inch gap on one side that was covered only by a sheer white curtain. He was out there. I couldn’t see him, of course – it was dark out there, but I knew he was there.

I began to “lead” in our dance. Not that I’ve ever been a very good dancer, but it comes to me naturally enough. The song was slow; I drew her tighter to me, pressing her mound against my thigh as she purred against my neck. She was wearing spike heels – not in fashion, back then, and she didn’t wear them usually, preferring the more casual, slightly “hippy-ish” styles of the time. But she also loved dressing up and knew I liked her in the heels-skirt-blouse look. More than once, she’d been out somewhere with her husband, or with friends, and we’d meet and I’d be floored by her little black dresses, her pearls, her whole “suburban wife” look.

She’d also pinned her long brown hair up in the back – another thing she new I liked, because it exposed her slender, beautiful neck, and as she looked up at me from under her bangs, I swear she’d never looked hotter.

We danced like that, her eyes laughing and shining, her lips parted just a bit, her warm, perfect body swaying against me, my cock straining in my half-buttoned jeans. I was still a little wet from my shower, and her pink tongue flicked a drop of water off my collar bone, then one off my shoulder … I kissed her lips, just softly, knowing she wanted to draw this out. She moved forward for another kiss and I pulled back just enough to cause her to whine just a little, her lips seeking mine.

I remember it like it was yesterday – parts of it, anyway. And looking back, I can’t help thinking how subtle the game can be, how the “upper hand” shifts back and forth, sometimes turning 180 degrees with just just a kiss.

Now, I felt in control. I was the one slowing her down. She rose up on her toes, trying to pull me down into a more passionate kiss, and it felt good, having her weight pulling down on me, resisting her, sliding my hand down to her ass, pressing her against my hardon, hearing her breath, feeling it against my neck.

I took charge completely when I pushed her away from me and into a slow twirl, and when she returned, dancing, to my arms, I turned her so that her back was against my chest. We were both facing the patio now. I can only imagine what that moment was like for her husband, watching in the dark as this shirtless punk handled his wife in front of him. She pressed back against me, and her hands went up behind my head as I leaned down to kiss her neck, my hands sliding over her torso, stretched out as she she swayed against me pulling herself up against me, offering her self so completely to my hands, to my lips, tongue and teeth on her tender neck.

I began to open the buttons on her blouse as I nuzzled her and while one of her hands held my face to her neck, the other reached back to stroke me through my jeans. We were still dancing, sort of, slowly swaying as we pressed together, my groin to the top of her ass. She tried a couple of times to turn around and face me, but I wouldn’t let her. It was so great, teasing her like this, and now that I knew her husband was watching, the thought of making her stretch the limits a little really turned me on. It occurred to me that I could probably get her to do anything – anything – in front of him. Not that she wouldn’t already do nearly anything in bed, but this was different. Teasing her, feeling how badly she wanted to continue, and yet also feeling how shy she was also being, in way, how reluctant she was, and how eager – it all had me so turned on I could hardly stand it.

Later, when talked about it, she confirmed what I’d been sensing. Now that it was really happening, knowing that her husband was out there watching her with her lover filled her confusing emotions, while exciting her at the same time. She said she just couldn’t believe it was really happening, that my hands were opening her blouse, that her hand was on my cock, and that her husband was a few feet away.

She started to feel shy, not only about what we were doing, but also about how turned on she was. She said she was embarrassed; she felt out of control in front of him in a way she never had been. She knew he was seeing her in a completely different way. And she said that what stunned her most of all was the realization at that moment, she was so turned on that she would, as I had sensed, have done absolutely anything right there in front of her husband, and she knew that anyone watching could plainly see that, particularly him. She wanted desperately to turn away from him and bury her face against my chest, but she said it just turned her on more when I wouldn’t let her.

I asked her, later, if she had seen him out there. “I couldn’t look. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I just kept my eyes closed, or looked at nothing. Isn’t that funny? I couldn’t look.”

When her blouse was open, and I had her braless, small, perfect breasts in my hands, my fingers pulling at her fat nipples, so hard and sensitive, she started murmuring “no … no … please …”

That set me back. I withdrew my hands, thinking something was wrong, but she grabbed my wrist and put my hand on her breast again and pressed my face tighter against her neck. When I resumed pulling at her nipples, her hand went back to my cock. She worked her hand into the fly of my jeans and held onto me tight. “Nooo …. Oh god … we can’t … we can’t …”

I didn’t have words for it, but I understood she was in a place we’d never been together, even when we’d been pretending he was watching. Part of her was resisting this whole thing, but she was also completely into it, lost in it, in fact.

She was moaning now as I rolled her nipples in my fingers, and she craned her neck up to kiss me. As our lips met, she said, softly “It’s true … I’m yours. I’m yours.”

As we kissed, I pulled her skirt up with my free hand and found her panties soaking wet. She gasped when my fingers grazed over her pubic hair and found her clit. She kissed me harder as my fingers slipped lower, into her panties and traced the outside of her opening. Her legs spread wider and she leaned back against me, her back arching, her breasts jutting out as my other hand roamed over them, kneading and pulling at her nipples.

Soon she couldn’t keep the kiss going any more and just lay back, with her head thrown back, her eyes closed, panting, her hips gyrating, her mound humping my hand. She was close to coming, and seemed to have completely forgotten her husband was watching. I brought my cunt-wet fingers to her lips and she licked and sucked at them.

She yelped when I spun her around to face me, taking her face in my hand, plunging my tongue into her mouth. Her hand found its way to my cock again as I unsnapped her skirt and let it slide down. I slid one hand down into her panties, pulling her tighter against me with her naked ass cheek in my hand. She shrugged her blouse down over her shoulders and pulled her hands free to let it join her skirt at her feet.

Now she was in my arms, naked except for her panties and heels. I took her face in my hands and looked down at her. We were both panting, I kissed her face all over and said “take them off … take off your panties.” She did as I continued Kissing her face. She bent at the waist and to get them down over her hips and I let go of her face. With my hands on her shoulders, I guided her down to her knees in front of me as I turned and sat on the edge of the bed.

What an amazing sight. Her slender, smooth body glowed in the soft light, her long torso curving down to the firm, round plumpness of her little ass, so perfectly shaped. Her feet, bare in her high heels and around her delicate ankles, still, her wet panties, as if she were loosely bound, which in a way she was.

I was just barely able to stretch back and get one of the little bottles of scotch that lay on the bed. Tilting her head back with my finger under her chin, I put the bottle to her lips. She reached to hold the bottle, but I gently pushed her hands away, and she sipped at the amber liquor, looking up at me. She choked a little after nearly draining the tiny bottle, and licked her lips, then began tugging my jeans down over my legs, and off. I wasn’t wearing underwear, so I was now fully exposed and hard in front of her.

Glassy eyed, she reached for my cock with both hands, but I caught her wrists and held them pressing her hands to my thighs. She looked up at me, startled (I’d never done that before) and seemed to be afraid I was going to deny her. I just stared into her eyes and as if by telepathy, she understood. We were at an angle to the patio door such that I’m fairly certain he could see both her naked ass and, perhaps, the side of her face as she slowly lowered her lips to me, and began licking, sucking and kissing my cock and my balls, slowly working her whole face over my genitals, pressing in to lick at the joint of my thigh along my groin, sucking at my sack, sliding her tongue up my shaft to the head of my cock.

I reached down with one hand to pull and pinch at her hypersensitive nipples and she gasped and moaned, taking as much of me into her mouth and throat as she could. When I let go of her hand to touch her, she tried again to touch my cock, but I pushed her hand away. She tried again with the same result as I pushed my hips up, forcing myself deeper into her mouth. This caused her to start really bobbing up and down on me and it was then that her free hand went down were I wanted to see it – wanted HIM to see it – to her pussy, where she began stroking herself while she continued to make love to my cock.

She loved hearing me speak to her while we made love, and I was doing so – encouraging her, telling her how good it felt, what a great cocksucker she is, softly telling her “that’s it … suck me baby … just like that … yeah …”

Soon I felt my orgasm coming, and I told her so. “I’m gonna come, darlin’ … you’re making me want to come so bad … gonna come soon, come so hard …”

She continued sucking me, slowing her pace, the way she knows I love for her to do as I’m approaching my orgasm.

Long, slow, firm strokes of her hot mouth, her tongue pressing up hard on the underside of my cock, occasionally stopping with me buried in her throat, her swallowing muscles working on me, milking at me, then more of the slow, long strokes.

As I felt my orgasm drawing nearer, I held her head in place and stood up, turning slightly as I did, so that now we were nearly sideways to the patio door. He was going to see his wife on her knees in profile, playing her pussy to orgasm, sucking her lover to orgasm, her precious little breasts hanging, tormented and teased by my fingers, her ass bobbing as she writhed on her own hand. He was going to see her throat contracting as she sucked down my sperm, see her other hand finally pulled free, grabbing my ass and pulling me deeper as my semen spilled out of the corners of her mouth, see her frantically swallowing, trying to get all of it down as I stroked in and out of her mouth, finally holding still, buried in her pretty face as she suckled, getting the last of it, her body thrashing in her orgasm, the veins standing out on her flushed neck as she screamed with my cock in her mouth.

I softly, tenderly stroked her face and her neck as she continued sucking at my softening penis. I realized that her cheeks were damp with tears, but she wasn’t crying.

Soon, my knees were shaking too much for me to stand and as I sat back down in the edge of the bed, I drew her forward and up, still kneeling, into my arms and we kissed for a long time, my sperm salty in her mouth and on her swollen lips.

After a while, she stood up, and went over to the patio door and began unlatching it. “What are you doing,” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“It’s nice and cool out,” she said, as she drew the door open a few inches. “I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air in here – while you fuck me.” She turned and smiled a special smile – not looking at me, but down and slightly to the side, as she often did after sex, and especially after she’d blown me - as she drew the curtain closed over the opening in the sliding door.

“I want you to fuck me good, lover. I came so good while I was sucking your cock, but now I want you to fuck me. You do wanna fuck me, don’t you, baby? I want you to fuck me hard. I want you to use me. I want you to fuck me til I scream.”

She loved lovetalk – and especially dirty lovetalk – but this was different. Her usual lovetalk wasn’t as trashy, and frankly, as silly as this. But I got the message. He was still out there, listening, but she wasn’t going to let him see any more, just listen.

“I’ve been a very bad girl, sucking your cock like that … a married woman sucking a hot young cock like that and loving it so much … letting you come in my mouth, and swallowing all your stuff … I’m a very bad girl and I deserve to be fucked like one. You gonna fuck me like your dirty girlfriend?”

She walked toward me as she was talking. “You gonna fuck me like your whore?” She had that strange little smile on her face, looking away from me, half like she was about to crack up and have like she was about to have another orgasm.

Honestly, I think that at any other time, I’d have laughed to hear her talk like that. But not that night.

She walked toward me slowly as she was talking. “You gonna fuck me like a whore?”

Honestly, I think that at any other time, I’d have laughed to hear her talk like that. But not that night.

I’ll digress a little here. Contrary to common belief, even a really hot sexual relationship can develop a routine. In a way, it’s natural. The things that really work for both of you, or even just for one of you, you’re likely to repeat. It was like that for us, too. Our usual routine, once we were really turned on, was for her to go down on me, and then for me to go down on her, then we’d have full-on sex. We changed things up – both of us were very interested in exploring new things together, but that basic formula formed sort of the core of what we did.

She truly loved giving oral. We’d also sixty-nine, but she told me she actually preferred not to have me going down on her while she was going down on me. She said it was too distracting.

When it came to fellatio, her preference was pretty specific. She liked kneeling between my knees sucking me in bed, but what she liked most was to be on her knees in front of me as I sat in a chair, or better yet, stood over her. (My own preference? I don’t think I had one!) She said just liked the feeling of kneeling and touching herself while sucking me. She said that for some reason, doing it that way, she could easily have an orgasm while sucking me – more easily, even, than when I was licking her - and that she especially liked it when she could come while I was coming in her mouth. She said there was something about that – having an orgasm while I was coming in her mouth – that was pure ecstasy.

She also told me once that she had a recurring dream that was also a favorite fantasy, of being naked on her knees, with one or more men in front of her in suits. They’d be completely clothed, wearing business clothes, and would unzip and she’d kneel there, naked, and suck them off.

So a lot of her erotic life had to do with giving head. Don’t misunderstand – she loved fucking, loved being eaten, loved it all. But she had a special thing for fellatio.
And that night, she was positively tranced out from the moment she went to her knees.

She came to me, her eyes averted, talking to me in her “I’ve been so naughty” voice, having just opened the patio door a bit. Her arms went around me and she pressed her face to my chest. We eased back onto the bed and together we got ourselves up to the top of it, kissing and touching as we went. Her lips were hot, salty and slightly swollen from sucking me, and I could definitely taste my sperm on her lips. At that time, the taste of my own semen was sort of a turn-off to me (I got over that during the time we were an item, and actually got to where I liked licking her after I’d come in her, if only for the fact that it made her so incredibly hot and happy.)

Her kisses were urgent and hungry, and my mild squeamishness subsided as we continued touching and kissing. She began whispering in my ear and against my neck – I don’t recall what she was saying, exactly – but she got it across that she wanted to be taken hard and rough, not my forte back then, or now, for that matter.

But as my cock regained full hardness, and as my fingers brought her to an orgasm, she cried out even louder than usual “oh, god, I’m coming so hard, it’s so good!” and violently humped at my hand.

I knew how she loved to have her clit sucked while my fingers were in her, so I slid down and began gently licking around her clit, while gently stroking my fingers inside of her. She grabbed my head and began humping up against my face, and again, I got the message: she wanted this to be hard, fast, and dirty. Completely out of character.

Later, when we talked about it, she explained that this had not been, as I assumed, purely an act she was putting on for him, but that it had actually caught her by surprise, too. Her awareness of what was happening, that her husband had just watched her suck her lover’s cock, and that he was listening to us fuck, had just brought this out in her.

She came hard on my mouth and fingers and then flipped over onto her tummy. Never her favorite position (she sometimes had difficulty coming this way) she rarely sought to be taken from behind, but she was clearly asking for it now.

It was so strange, and I was a little surprised by it, but she started acting as though she didn’t want me to fuck her. She kept saying “no, no … please, not like this, no …” and “oh god, I can’t, I can’t, no … “

But all the while, she had her sweet little rump up in the air and was pulling me toward her pussy from behind.

“Oh, baby, I know I’ve been bad, but why are you being this way? Why are you … OH GOD! OH GOD! Oh, that HURTS SO GOOD!” she had just pushed herself back onto my cock as hard as she could – literally SLAMMED herself onto me.

It occurs to me as I’m writing this that not long after all this, if a woman asked to be taken from behind, I’d at least tentatively try smacking her ass. But it never even occurred to me to do that at this time.

She drew my hands up to her breasts, still bucking against me, and I could feel her pinching her nipples and I took the hint and joined in. I was amazed at how hard she was pulling and twisting them, and I was afraid to do it as hard, but soon she was saying over and over, as she slammed herself back onto me, grunting and sort of “whoofing” with each stroke, “oh, god that hurts …. Hurts so good! So good! I’m coming again! Oh, god, baby, that hurts so bad … feels so good!”

She was playacting, in a way, but it was as though the pretending had taken over for her. It was crazy. It actually scared me some. This was not the woman I knew. But it was amazing, nonetheless.

She was sweaty, and in steady, constant motion, slamming back on me and now I was meeting her stroke for stroke. It was hard to imagine that it DIDN’T hurt, she was slamming so hard, all the muscles in her slender back straining to fuck herself harder and harder on my cock. Her hair had partly fallen out of her updo and was wet with sweat.

She pulled one of my hands to her mouth and took a couple of fingers into her mouth and then pushed it back to her ass and said “NO! NO! Don’t touch me there, NO! NOT there, PLEASE! Please don’t! ….”

She pressed her ass back against me, and insistently pressed my fingers against her back hole, all the while saying “NO!”

I gently pressed against her opening – not a complete stranger to buttsex, but not exactly knowledgeable, either - and she cried out so loud that I pulled back but she just grabbed my hand and held it there again.

I pressed again, and she squealed and cried out “NOOOOOO!” as she pushed back onto my finger. Her whole pelvic area was wet and slick, so my finger slipped in pretty easily. Once I was in a couple of inches, she raised her head up, and said “YES! YES! MY ASS! MY ASS! SO GOOD! OH, GOD IT HURTS SOFUCKINGGOOD!!” and I felt her cunt clamping down on my cock as she had another orgasm.

That about did it for me. I must have said something, or maybe she just felt that I was going to come, because she abruptly fell forward and rolled over on her back.

“Oh, God, lover – you fucked me so good … made me come so much … oh, God … so good …”

She whispered in my year, her breathing still ragged “Make love to me now.”

And I did. I slid into her and we made love. It seemed now that I could last forever, and we just rocked together gently, kissing and stroking. She came again, and then again and soon I was ready again, too.

“Oh, do it lover, come with me. Fill me with come, lover. Come with me.”

I began to spurt into her, both of us moaning and whispering and then, she said clearly, as we were both still coming, “oh, thank you baby, thank you lover … I love you. I love you so much!”

Now, that had never been part of our deal. I was crazy about her, that’s for sure, and I’d wondered more than once if I was in love with her, or she with me. But neither of us had taken the step she’d just taken.

And as I was still pulsing in her cunt, my head was spinning. I fought the urge to say “I love you, too,” but I couldn’t fight the urge to kiss her sweet, sweet mouth with an intensity that may not have been love, but it was as close as that particular 19 year-old kid was going to get on that particular evening.

We lay there recovering for a long while. When she got up out of the bed, I may have been dozing, but I sat and she gently pushed me back down. She padded over to the patio doors, and without looking outside, she reached behind the curtain and closed the door.

She slid into her clothes, kissed me where I lay in bed and whispered into my ear “I’m yours, baby. I am.” And then looking away from me the way she did when she’d just blown me, she put her bag over her shoulder and was gone.

My stomach was in knots wondering what was happening with her, worrying about her, worrying about whether he’d get crazy with her or something. But before we’d gone through with this, she’d pretty much convinced me that she would be careful, that she’d handle it all.

Next day, I was still upset, but I didn’t call her the next day, or probably the next. She also didn’t call me. Of course, this was back in the day when answering machines were the latest thing, so being in touch with your married lover could be complicated. Eventually, we had a work night coming up together and she called me.

“We need to talk before we go to work tonight.”

I took off from my other job and we had the afternoon together. We met at “our” hotel, and without me saying anything about it, she said “he’s not here.”

We had more to talk about than one afternoon was going to take care of, but it came down to this. The thing with him watching and then listening had freaked me out some, but I still wanted her in my life. She cried and kept saying thank you. She was afraid that the strangeness of it all had driven me away.

It wasn’t an easy conversation, but eventually we were in bed together and we made love sweetly and passionately.

Yes, I was in over my head. No doubt about it. But it seemed perfectly natural to me at the time.

After sex, my curiosity was about to get the better of me. As I was trying to figure out how to ask her she said “so do you want to know what’s been going on with me and my husband?”

I did. “Sure, fine, if you feel like telling me.”

“Well, I went straight home; it was part of what he wanted. I was really sort of exhausted, and pretty confused, but I’d promised. What I really wanted to do was to stay at the hotel with you all night.

“When I got home, he was upstairs, in our bedroom. I knew what he wanted, but I had no idea how it would go, how it would happen, whatever. And actually, I was so worn out, I was not at all looking forward to it. I was hoping, really, that I’d find him asleep.”

“I was sort of stalling for time, went to make a drink and he came downstairs. I sat down in a chair in the family room and he came over and took my drink from me, setting it down on an end table. He dimmed the lights and the room was just lit from the patio lights and the pool.

“I was really, really tired and there was no way I wanted sex. So when he knelt down on the floor in front of me, I started to say ‘no’ and I put my legs together, but he just held me there and held my legs open.

“He didn’t look up. He just held my legs apart and pressed his face to my thigh.

“I tried again to twist away, but he just held me – a little rougher now – and said ‘You promised’ which was true. I had promised. He’s strong, and he just held me there.

“His face was still pressed to my thigh and I realized I could feel him trembling. He was just breathing real deep, like trying to calm down, and he began kissing me, licking my skin, and sort of sighing. He was turned on, and god help me, but I started getting turned on, too.”

“And then all of a sudden he yanked my hips to the edge of the armchair, and pressed his mouth on my panties, licking me. I started pushing up to him and he pulled my panties aside and pushed his tongue in and I was practically coming already.

“And you know how I like you to put your hands on my head when I’m sucking you? He did that. He took my hands and put them on his head and started really eating me hard and deep, and soon he had me coming hard. I just ground myself on him, really hard. Finally, he pulled away, and I thought it was over, but it wasn’t. He lay down on the floor and pulled me down onto him, not like a 69, but facing the other way, straddling his face.

“He was, like, frantic. He held me down on his face so I thought he’s smother and he was making a lot of noise, but soon I was lying there, with my face on the chair’s seat on my knees, sort of, but pressed down hard on his face.

“Once, I sat up, and looked back and saw how hard he was in his slacks. He’s big, you know, and it was like a pole in there. Seeing that turned me on even more and I just pressed down hard on his face. I know that this whole time, he’s got to be getting all your stuff dripping down, and it turned me on so much to know that. Soon after that, felt him going stiff, sort of holding very still all of a sudden and I looked back and his pants were soaked – he’d had an orgasm in his pants.”

“He seemed sort of ashamed, so I just let him up and he went upstairs; I waited for a while and made each of us a fresh drink. I went upstairs and he’d washed up. I wanted to take a shower, but he quietly pulled me to bed and we made love and fell asleep.”

They’d never really talked about it that night, but he did tell her he wanted to do it again, but not right away.