ssluvph
Member
Posts: 5
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If yesterday's Saturday with Craig was nostalgic, that first one
three months ago was nothing of the kind! It was the first warm
June day of the seamister, and I was wearing a smart print cotton sun
dress, very chic, no shoulders, a little more flirty than my usual
outfits, and I suppose that put me in the mood. I met Cheryl at
Les Bergeres for our regular Saturday girls' lunch, as usual. We
were former college roommates now married and settled in, each in
our own way. We'd gotten together for gossip as usual, maybe also
shopping or a movie, as we'd done every Saturday noon for several
years, ever since we'd discovered delightedly that we were both
working in the same city. But that day we'd traded very little
gossip. Lunch became something quite different from our usual
lunches, something else altogether, something more wonderful and
wicked for both of us. And instead of returning home in the late
afternoon as usual, I'd returned well after dark.
Oh, my, that frightening trip home! I'd felt so awful! So
conflicted! So burdened with remorse, yet unable to blame myself!
So I'd turned on Scott as if he were the one to blame, the poor
dear! Then the next morning I'd badgered, intimidated, and
seduced him into giving me everything what I needed. A three month
agreement to do what I wished, that I could use as a moratorium
from him altogether! What a self-indulgence! And he'd granted me
the three months! And actually agreed to my crazy conditions!
That Sunday after my mad Saturday luncheon with its aftermath was
absolutely memorable! I'd awakened alone in our spare bedroom and
as consciousness returned I'd felt doubly devastated! Oh, God,
what had I done! The previous afternoon had been bad enough -- I'd
fucked another man for the first time since my marriage to Scott,
more than fucked him, welcomed him into my every crevice and
opening repeatedly! I'd craved him! And then what a bitch I'd
been to Scott when I'd returned home!
It all came back! Whatever had possessed me? Well, my desire for
more of Craig, mainly. I'd returned home way more Craig's than
Scott's. My lower regions were all deliciously stretched,
distended, swollen by everything Craig and I had been doing
together. Not defiled, though I should have felt defiled, I wasn't
married to Craig, I was married to Scott, and Scott hadn't done any
of those things to me -- another man had done them! I should feel
ashamed! And I did. Yet I also felt fulfilled, exalted,
completed, like a goddess whose pussy and boobs were larger than
life! The sex I'd had seemed to justify anything I might do to
have it again!
I'd awakened that next morning in our spare bedroom and when I sat
up I saw that I was still coated thick with Craig's emissions, my
face and breasts and thighs crusty and sticky with them. I still
oozed his fluids. It felt splendid! I wore his dried semen like
a badge of honor!
Oh, God, it then struck me, exulting and despairing! I've really
done it! I've really and truly done it, destroyed my marriage, and
then to cover myself, to save some vestige of it, to evade my
nagging guilt, resenting the fact that I felt the need to save it,
resenting that I couldn't sink deeper into even worse infidelities,
eager to cram more of Craig into me, I'd come home thinking how to
take advantage of Scott, how to ruin him as a man in my own eyes
for a few months. My darling husband, who loves and trusts me.
The only man I've ever loved!
That first Sunday morning, covered with dried cum, I'd opened our
bedroom door and looked in at him arelax in our huge bed, and tried
to decide how to proceed, what to do. Then I'd scurried to dump my
stained sheets and undies into the clothes washer to started them
soaking, to destroy the evidence! Then reluctantly -- my God, I'd
been reluctant! -- I'd showered off all of Craig's dried cum and
smeared excrescences and slobber and returned my body to an
undetectable, pristine normality. Nearly. On the outside, anyhow.
Inside I was still sticky with his cum, I could feel it still
leaking between my legs.
I carefully patted myself dry and powdered my whole body and
blended a touch of foundation onto the bite marks Craig had made on
my neck and shoulders so they'd be invisible. Now as far as Scott
was concerned it had never happened. But it had happened -- my
slit was still a sopping mess! I was appalled that I felt no
shame, that I wanted it to happen again and again. That I knew I
could make it happen again and again, if I played it right! If I
was determined to play it right.
So deliberately, maliciously, I'd gone into our bedroom where Scott
lay arelax and I'd sat down on our bed where he lay still sprawled
on his own side. Even in my absence he'd respected my side of the
bed. There was my space, empty, even though in his relax he'd
tried to fling an arm onto it to bring me closer. Even in my
absence. That dear man! Why was I planning to do this to him?
I noticed that despite my shower and the bath powder I still
smelled strongly of sex -- I should have douched too. How many
times had Craig pumped his semen into me yesterday? In how many
places? On impulse I reached over to my dressing table and
trickled a whole bottle of my most long-lasting perfume onto me.
Then onto Scott. Lilac Ecstasy. The aroma filled the room. Now
that was all Scott could possibly smell for a few hours! I was
safe!
I then awakened him slowly with a gentle conciliatory blow job.
"Mmmmm!" he'd said at first. Then a long silence. Then, "why do
I smell flowers?" he asked quietly, all the while I ran my tongue
up the length of his cock and daintily mouthed its rosy tip. It
was a lovely cock. Much like Craig's, I was thinking, a little
shorter but a little thicker, either way a pleasure to have and to
hold in hand, mouth, or pussy. Different. Not dangerous or
challenging, not an aggressive instrument of domination like
Craig's, bent to destroy me if I let down my guard. Not arrogant,
demanding subjugation even while itself hard and unyielding.
Instead, Scott's cock was comforting, reassuring. Friendly and
familiar, loving. It was my very own cock. I snugged it deeper
into my mouth.
"It's nice, this perfume, but it's yours," he added. "Why on me?"
"Because I want you to smell like me," I replied lazily, lipping
his cock head. "It's a lovely scent. A woman's scent." That was
certainly true. Men's fragrances were made from herbs and spices.
Women's from flowers. This one was a rich, heady floral bouquet of
lilacs, armfuls of them, deeply feminine. Why on Scott? Because
I didn't want him to be able to smell the man-smell on me. And
then I realized slowly, because I didn't want him to smell like a
man either. Not now. Not so soon after Craig. Not like
competition for Craig, as if Craig was his rival. I didn't want
any residual manly after shave or cologne smells on him to remind
me of Craig's, and the yearning for Craig I still felt in my count.
I wanted him to smell like me! Like a woman!
These were strange, unfamiliar thoughts. If he somehow was more
like me, then maybe he'd want me to fuck Craig, because I wanted to
fuck Craig? He'd be more understanding? And if he were a woman,
I'd feel less guilty that I'd betrayed him all yesterday afternoon
and into the evening, and that I wanted to do it again and again?
"I want you to," I said again. "I want you to smell like a woman."
And suddenly I took his whole cock down my throat and bobbed my
whole head and neck up and down around it. It slid in and out past
my lips and down through my slippery gorge deep into my esophagus.
It must have felt to him like an incredibly tight vagina. He
sighed, as if he'd arrived home for the first time. If I could
have, I would have smiled.
I'd deep throat a man yesterday for the first time ever, taken a
penis all the way down into my throat, devoured it, because
challenged to do so. Craig's penis. At the time I'd wanted to
swallow all of Craig whole, possess him completely! So I'd pushed
his most vital part down my gullet, and when Craig's cock filled my
neck as it had filled my pussy moments before, stiff and slick, I
felt triumphant, completed! Now he was altogether in my power!
But I'd never done anything remotely like that with Scott. Maybe
licked or kissed him a few times preliminary to other things, but
never even sucked on him. Certainly never taken him deep down into
my throat. I'd never thought it possible, how could anyone breath
with that thing stuffed down their throats? Would Scott get
suspicious now, wonder where suddenly I'd learned to push a cock
into me that way, and wonder why I was doing it? I almost didn't
care! I wanted to overwhelm my hubby, give him something of what
I'd given Craig, let him benefit from my infidelity with Craig,
share in it, because he was my true beloved. Craig was my
obsession, but Scott was my life!
My poor cuckolded Scott! I wanted to make him happy too!
With that thought I plunged him deeper down my throat and pumped my
head and neck on it until he gasped and stiffened and finally
throbbed, sending his little sperms hurtling down into my tummy to
join Craig's. To join Craig's -- that thought was so satisfying!
Then I milked the base of his cock once or twice with my lips and
pulled myself off him.
"All right?" I said slyly?
"Where did you learn to do that?" he asked, amazed.
I couldn't answer of course. So I kissed him. Wickedly, I wiped
my sperm-thickened tongue on his lips, and I was gratified to see
him lick it off. His own sperm. Another first! "All right?" I
asked him again.
He hesitated a moment, then concentrated on my question. "Do you
mean 'All right, that felt good'? Yes, better than all right,
Andy! It felt marvelous!" He sounded sincerely appreciative.
"Or do you mean 'All right I'll wear your perfume and smell like a
woman'? "
Of course! I'd already forgotten. The last thing I'd said before
going down on him was 'I want you to smell like a woman.' I
certainly did, too! And he remembered.
"Both!" I said. An idea was forming. "I want both for you!"
"Is this related to last night? What you said about how I need to
understand women better?" he asked carefully, faintly worried.
"That I should try to do what women do and all that?"
"Yes," I said, suddenly reminded of that fierce diatribe I'd raged
at him last night, my mock fury with him. It could be. Yes!
"You don't mean just now and that's all? You mean from now on? You
want me to wear perfume the way you wear perfume? As a usual
thing?"
Exactly! I'd never have asked that of him! It hadn't even
occurred to me! But he'd said it! Yes! Let him be my delicate,
flowery, girly-smelling Scott, no match for my rough-hewn Craig!
In fact I should dominate him in other ways too, the way I try to
dominate Craig and Craig refuses to be dominated. Scott would go
along with me because he loves me! I should make his agreeing to
my demands a test of his love, if need be! Maybe also belittle him
and humiliate him the way Craig tries and fails to humiliate me!
Well, not exactly in the way Craig tries it, that can get pretty
wild. Scott could never stand being fisted, for example, but I'd
been fisted in both openings and when Craig thought me helplessly
impaled had imprimistered his arms inside me. But I'd could be firm
with Scott! "Yes!" I said. "All the time!"
"Andy, what would people think, me wearing perfume?"
"Why should you care?" I said in a tight voice. How did I get into
this? All because I didn't want him to smell Craig on me! But now
there's no backing away. "It's what I think that matters. It's
what I want! For you to smell like me!"
Too stern! Be more appealing, reassuring! "Besides, what people?
School's out, there're no more students, and no more colleagues!
You'll be buried in your study all summer writing that book. Or
maybe you'll be in the college library, but who cares if a few
librarians notice that one professor smells of lilacs? It'll make
things all the more pleasant for you, too."
He looked troured. Unsure what was happening. So more gently,
more casually, I added, "Oh, sweetheart, I'd love it if you smelled
just like me! And no one would even notice, not if it's
appropriate! We can arrange things so the way you look, no one
thinks it's at all odd that you're wearing a woman's perfume."
He stared at me, understanding immediately what I meant.
"Yes, darling, that's what we'll do! For the whole summer! It
won't be that difficult!" And with that I held my breath. Would
he understand what I meant? Would he actually accept such a weird
idea?
"Oh!" he said quietly. For a moment that was all he said. Then
"That's what you want? For the whole summer? You really want
that?"
He was so quick! He did see! No wonder I loved him! "Yes," I
said again, and I nodded as if I were determined, unshakeable.
"That's what I want, and that's what you'll do. For the whole
summer. Not very long, only for a few months, just long enough to
give you a taste of what it's like. Long enough for you to find
your own femininity so you can understand mine better! We'll be so
much happier together afterward. And you'll enjoy it! I'll want
you to enjoy it! I'll help you, of course!"
He just looked at me, his face inexpressive. And all I could think
to myself was at that moment was 'Yes, this is the way! Carry on
from last night's quarrel, improvise, keep up the pressure, forget
Scott is a man, think of him as a woman, and have a glorious summer
guilt-free of fucking Craig!'
Just terrible! But it would work! And it won't last, this
passion. In a few months I'm sure we'll have returned to the way
we were. Meanwhile it can't hurt for Scott to understand a woman's
point of view a little better.
"It'll be lovely!" I added. "You'll love it. You're always
turned on when you see me wearing my bras and panties. Maybe I'll
be turned on when I see you in yours! It'll be delicious, being
sexy together!"
Then I felt a really wicked impulse, and I yielded to it!
Implicate Scott, make him a participant! "Here, have a taste of
it, of being me! Taste my femininity," I said, suddenly climbing
onto him and straddling his head. "Taste it! Sink your nose in
it!"
And I sat down on his face, his nose poking at my lit, his mouth
under my pussy. I squeezed my vaginal muscles ever so slightly,
and an oozing of Craig's cum went directly into his mouth. I felt
him swallow. Wonderful! I knew he couldn't speak, that I was in
complete charge! "More!" I said. "Kiss me, sweetheart!"
He did. I squeezed harder this time, and a whole glop of Craig's
semen slipped out of me and into his mouth. Oh, God the elation!
The triumph! "Swallow me again!" I commanded, and he did.
Then for the next ten minutes I squeezed and he swallowed, and it
was exquisite! My one true love was subjugated, humiliated, made
to eat another man's cum as an act of love for me, and he didn't
even know it! But I did! Yes! And I loved it, that he was
himself cleaning the last evidences of Craig out of me! As if he
were participating in my adultery, forgiving it, wanting it,
encouraging it! Helping me hide the evidence. Kissing my pussy to
console me, to tell me it's all right
Yes! He'd do this after every one of my sessions with Craig!
Every Saturday I'd have lunch with Cheryl and then I'd meet Craig
and use his body ruthlessly, and when I get home Scott will clean
me out, forgive me his own cuckoldry, and never even know it. Yes!
Moreover, he'll be a girl when he does it, he's already agreed to
that too! He won't be my husband but my girlfriend when I'm
fucking Craig! I'll be sharing Craig's semen with my girlfriend!
How can that be a betrayal of him?
I was quite mad, but it all seemed perfectly reamisterable at the
time. When Scott finished licking me clean, I snuggled into bed
with him and kissed him. Now I had both men in bed with me,
Scott's body and Craig's semen, and we both had Scott's and Craig's
semen inside our tummies. My Scott's mouth now tasted of Craig's
cum. Scott's flavor was lighter, different. I could still taste
it from the blow job I'd given him, but his kisses now tasted like
Craig's. I did hope he wouldn't notice and compare flavors.
"Mmmmm!" was all I said. We were launched into something
altogether new for me. For my lovely hubby too. I had no idea how
it would end.
"We'll make love as lesbians this summer, lover," I told him. "Not
as man and wife. As women. It'll give you an incentive."
"An incentive?" he asked. "For what?"
"To look pretty for me," I said. "To be an attractive woman for
me."
Maybe he didn't grasp all the implications. "Lesbians? You won't
want me to enter you?" he asked. He sounded wary, faintly hurt.
"Oh yes," I replied blithely. "Of course you will, we'll use
dildos on each other, lesbians do that. Maybe you'll use the one
that's already attached to you, and I'll get one I can strap on and
use on you. Or maybe I should get you another strap-on to use on
me. That way you're less likely to feel manly when we make love.
We won't want that. Yes, that's what we'll do!"
Yes. If Scott's cock from now on would be a rubber protuberance,
then Craig's hot prick would have exclusive access to me. I'd
already spent hours and hours trying to wear it out, trying to give
and get from it more than he'd given or gotten. Was Craig man
enough to take care of my lusts exclusively in one day each week,
after a week when I've had no man in me at all, only a dildo? I'd
tell him that would be his task -- that would challenge him! Then
we'd see.
Scott was silent. Was he still wondering whether I was serious?
I wondered too. I knew I was being really weird. Was I serious?
Whether or not, I had to be now. I'd gone way too far to reverse
course.
Lying there next to Scott that first Sunday, coming to my senses,
I re-considered what I'd just done. I'd followed my instincts and
improvised. It suddenly occurred to
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