Laura's Story

Let me start by saying that this is not my story - that is to say, I am but the lowly scribe, putting the words of another down on paper, metaphorically speaking. Laura (not her real name) contacted me through a PM after reading other things I'd posted on this site. We exchanged a couple of messages before she got to her real reamister for contacting me; she wanted to find out if I would write her story for her.

I tried to gently disengage, explaining to her that I don't do that, I write strictly from imagination and past experience. She assured me that I would find it worth my time, that her story had many of the elements of the other tales I'd written. Next I tried to explain that I couldn't write from her side of the gender aisle, that I had no way of knowing what women thought or felt in various situations, and had no clue what sex actually feels like for a woman, or how to describe it from a feminine perspective. She assured me that she would be willing to help me with that, and you might understand how that piqued my interest - but still, I really was not interested in doing this.

I could have just said "No!" at this point, but I tend to be a pushover for a nice lady, maybe too much of a gentleman to be obnoxious and blunt. I tried to talk her into writing her own story; she seemed very articulate, and intelligent, but she insisted she couldn't do it, that she didn't have the knack, or the talent, or whatever. I made her write a couple of pages and email to me, and it turns out she wasn't lying - she really can't write worth a crap. (Sorry Laura, but you already knew that!)

Finally she wore me down, and I said I'd give it a try, but no promises - in a sense, the readers will be the judges of whether or not it is worth continuing - plus, she would have to work around my schedule. She insists that the story is true, 100%, but you can be the judge of that as well. I tend to believe her, but have no way of knowing for sure. We communicate via email and phone now, as she lives over 2,200 miles from me.

Laura only found this site after events in her permisteral life led her to seek some answers, to try to expand her view on the subject. I was honored that she chose me, but still have doubts about whether I can pull it off. What follows is her version of events, the meat and potatoes perhaps given a little additional flavor by me adding herbs and spices - you know, the various adverbs, adjectives, and other modifiers that make things readable. I hope that I can do justice to her story. I haven't heard it all yet - we're not up to the current date - but what I have heard is, I think, a suitable and hopefully enjoyable story for this site. By the way, all names and locations have been changed, as she knows that her husband might also come to this site occasionally and was afraid he might recognize her story otherwise.

Here goes; I hope you will let me know if you think it's worthwhile, because that way y'all can be the bad guy that has to tell her to forget it!

You have my interest.

Linda

You know "laura" is a dude and you're a homo, riiiiiiight?
KIK voxstephen

Stormy,
Seems a strange way back to Adam & Co but if it's floating your boat, I'm sure its a good story. I'm equally sure that you won't be able to disguise a real story from 'Laura's' husband just by changing a few names and locations, but then you can't make a good omlette etc..

Mani,
I sometimes wonder where this site would be without your insightful and wise comments ..

LAURA'S STORY


I was the last permister on earth that I would have thought would ever cheat on her husband. I mean, it's just not something I ever thought would happen - not to me, and certainly not to Ben; he's a good man, and I love him so much, but I cheated on him and I have to live with that. And I could, I suppose, if it had happened once and I'd walked away, then I could have lived with the mistake, I'd have found a way to rationalize it in my head to ease my own guilt, but it didn't just happen that once. No, it happens still, and while I feel guilty every time, while I hate myself for what I'm doing, still I keep on.

Worse, I find myself longing for the next time, thinking of Matt, how he looks, how he smells, the feel of his hard body against mine, the dark, hungry look in his eyes as we make love. God! Why do I *** myself like this? I love Ben with all my heart and soul, but my body cries out for Matt, for the chance to touch him, to taste him, to have him inside of me, to forget the rest of the world and allow him to take my body to places where it so longs to go, because that's what happens. The only time I don't feel horrible about what we're doing is while we're doing it; then, at that moment, it's good, it's right, it's the best thing in my life. When it's over I feel bad, but before long I always want more.

As these things often do, I suppose, it started innocently enough: The house across the street had been vacant for a long time, one of those bank foreclosures that are so common these days. It was beaten up and sad looking, with a yard overgrown with weeds, the remaining grass brittle and dry. The realtor's sign in the yard kept getting knocked down by kids, and Ben would always go over and stand it back up, working hard to stomp the metal legs back into the rock-hard dirt. He wanted the house to get a good owner, so it wouldn't continue to drag down property values in the neighborhood. Maybe, if he'd had any idea what would happen, he'd have left that sign lying in the weeds. He probably should have, and sometimes I wish he had.

We would occasionally see a realtor showing the house, not often, maybe every couple of weeks or so. I don't know if we saw Matt when he came to see it. If so, it left no lasting impression. The first we were aware that anyone had been seriously interested was when the large United Van Lines moving van pulled up in front of it. Apparently the sad, dilapidated looking home had a new owner! Minutes after the big van pulled up, a beat up old jeep with those big off-road tires pulled up and parked in front of our house, out of the way of the movers.

To my knowledge, that was the first time I ever laid eyes on Matt. He slid out of the jeep in his old, faded blue jeans and tight black t-shirt and called out to the driver of the truck, who waved at him. They stood beside the truck, talking to each other, and then he walked up and unlocked the front door for them and disappeared inside. He opened the overhead garage door and came back out through the garage. I won't pretend I didn't notice him then; he makes an instant impression, with his broad shoulders and deep chest, and the t-shirt defined his muscles as the sleeves wrapped tightly around his biceps and hugged his chest. I’m only thirty-eight, certainly young enough to appreciate a good looking man, even if I was not in the market for one!

Ben had crossed the room and now stood beside me near the window, looking out, and I felt a brief rush of embarrassment for the thoughts that had been cascading through my mind. Seeing the guy across the street, he nodded. “Huh! Maybe it finally sold! Do you suppose that’s the new owner, or one of the movers?”

“I don’t know. He had a key, and opened up the place, so I suppose he must be the owner. I wonder if his family is coming later or something.”

Ben had looked at me for a moment, then he shrugged. “No telling. He could be a bachelor, although that house seems a little big for a single guy.” He looked out again, watching the movers begin to carry things from the truck as the man we took to be our new neighbor began to poke around the dying shrubbery near the house. “If he’s actually single I’ll bet you ten bucks that Shari will be all over him before that truck leaves.”

Shari and her husband Steve live in the house next to the now-formerly vacant one, across the street and down one from us. Shari is a horrible flirt, with pretty much anything that wears pants. Not lacking self-confidence, she is supremely, annoyingly sure of her own desirability – or at least that’s my take on her. Ben says she flirts for the attention, to try to reassure herself that men still find her attractive. Either way, she’s probably a little old to behave the way she does. I suppose she looks decent enough, but the bleached blond hair and oversized fake boobs are a bit much, in my opinion, for a woman over forty-five. Steve tolerates her flirting – I think he doesn’t take it seriously, and maybe he’s right – but I’m not so sure. It pisses me off when she goes after Ben, but he assures me he is not the least attracted to her, and finds her behavior a little sad. Steve is a very nice man, so I always hoped that Shari wouldn’t do anything stupid to hurt him.

I do understand why she likes to flirt with my Ben. I think he’s a very handsome, attractive man. He’s not the type that gets a lot of attention from other women, typically, so he’s probably a little flattered by Shari’s flirting even if he won’t admit it. He’s actually two years older than me; he just turned forty about a month ago, and he’s starting to get a little pot belly – not much, just a little – and his hair is thinning a bit in the back, but I still think he’s very sexy! He’s tall; well, taller than me anyhow, which is important to me. I’m five foot five, and he’s about five nine. I don’t think I could have married a man shorter than me; it would have been too weird, especially for dancing and that kind of stuff. We’ve been married just over fifteen years, but don’t have any kids yet. Maybe we still will, if we don’t wait too long.

Staying in shape and exercising is not as important to him as it is to me, even though I pester him all the time to do it, to come for a run with me, or come along to the gym. Oh well, to each his own I suppose, but I worry about him. I do pay attention to my weight, and my figure, and I think I look pretty good, even if I do say so myself. Ben appreciates my looks, and I get compliments sometimes, so that helps to make all the effort worthwhile. I don’t like my hair; it’s kind of a mousy brown, and fairly straight and soft, unless I spend a lot of time treating and curling it and all. Whenever I complain about it, Ben says that with my figure and my blue eyes and long lashes, nobody will notice my hair – and that anyway, he likes it, so what do I care what anyone else thinks? You know, some of what I just said makes me sound like a very vain permister, but I don’t think I am, not really!

Anyhow, back to move-in day! We watched them start to carry things – furniture, boxes, appliances, the usual stuff – into the house, but soon got bored and went about our chores. Ben called me to the window again about an hour or so later, and nodded across toward them. “Look at all that crap spread all over the yard – he’s got a lot of junk for a single guy, but I don’t see any kids toys, or bikes or anything.”

He was right; it was all either definitely masculine stuff, plain boxes, or gender-neutral things. “Yeah, looks like. I suppose we’ll find out eventually. Should we walk over and introduce ourselves?”

Ben nodded. “Sure, why not. You want to take along some cold takes or something, try to be neighborly?”

We threw an assortment of soft takes, bottled water, and some ice into our small red cooler and walked across the street. The man we had assumed to be the owner was putting up a hose caddy near the front spigot, with his back toward us, so Ben hailed him as we drew near so as not to startle him too much. “Hey neighbor, you looked like you could use a break and something cold to take!”

He straightened and turned, wiping his hands on his tight, faded jeans, and a warm smile creased his face. “Hey, now you’re talking! Nice to find out I have kind, thoughtful neighbors!” He thrust his hand out to Ben. “I’m Matt, Matt McCullough.”

He shook my hand too, as we introduced ourselves, and Matt paused long enough to grab a diet Pepsi and call the movers over to get a cold take. After they had each found something and wandered off, we stood and chatted for awhile, finding out more about each other. As he spoke I studied him, realizing that he was probably older than I had first thought. He had that slight brownietering of gray in his short, brush-cut hair, the kind that looks so sexy with a chiseled, tanned and weather-beaten face, which he also had. From across the street – and judging mostly by his body – I had assumed he was about my age. I now revised that upwards to somewhere between forty-five and fifty, but it was that Harrimister Ford/Sean Connery/Clint Eastwood type of aging, the kind some men do so well, but that so few women can pull off. There’s no fairness in this world!

We found out that he was single – divorced, actually, but some years ago – and that he had two kids, one in college, and one graduated and working in Texas. He is a pilot, a former Navy pilot that flew a bunch of combat missions during Desert Storm but now flies for one of the big overnight package services, and so is gone a lot. He and Ben seemed to really hit it off, and Matt had a very easy-going, laid back permisterality. I hate to admit it, but I found him very attractive, and felt myself drawn to him in a way that rarely happened to me. When his sharp, gray-green eyes would meet mine I felt like he was looking right into my soul. Wait, that sounds too corny, don’t say that – but, I mean, it was hard to meet his eyes, like he knew I was drawn to him, or could read my mind, and I kept looking away. I know I blushed too.

When we turned to leave, to go home and let him get back to his work, he did a very unnerving thing; he looked at me, just at me, and let his eyes wander over my body, even though he knew I was watching him. Then he smiled, and nodded, and said “I think I’m really going to like this neighborhood.”

He probably didn’t mean anything by it, but it gave me this little tingle inside, low in my tummy, those little sparks, and I felt the heat of a quick flush from head to toe. I don’t think Ben thought anything of it, or even noticed my reaction.

Thanks Linda, and hey peak, how's it going? This is just a diversion, and it may not even work out - I will get back to the boat soon.

Thanks mani, I though the same at first - about Laura, I mean, I know I like girls. Wouldn't be afraid to admit it if I didn't, you know. Then I heard her voice - she's either an actual woman, or a great faker.

Since you feel so free to criticize others, I'm sure you've never tried writing anything yourself, so I thought I'd critique your note: Correct form is to capitalize proper names, such as "Laura". Correct use of capitalization is important you see. As someone here once explained, capitalization is the difference between helping your Uncle Jack off his horse, and helping your uncle jack off his horse. But then, you're probably quite familiar with the latter...

Great start Stormy on a hard story to write I would assume as a fledgling writer myself I know its hard enough to write from your own imagination much less someone elses. But again it goes to prove that you and Goodhusband are good writers. Hope you continue this story and hope to see you get back to yours also.

I always like your stuff, that's why no matter what you label yourself , you are a writer!
Or just a man that is so talented that we all are jealous of.

Keep up the good work.
watcherdoit4fun

whtcuckold

Yeah, agree that this will be hard, but so far an excellent start!!

Stormy,
Nice start and I like your Uncle Jack. I always think that one measure of a good comedian is how they deal with hecklers. I think you passed that one !

Hey Stormy, great to see you back. I can see the difficulty in writing this story but on the other hand you are an accomplished word smith so if any one can pull this off, it's you.

Thanks whtcuckold, I really apreciate the vote of confidence! We'll see, I guess. I have enough notes for probably 2 or 3 additional segments at this time, so will probably never really know how long it will continue.

Watcher, Ned, and Timmy, thanks. The support is always welcome, and it does keep me coming back , it seems. I hope the story goes well, but as I explained above, it's a bit of an unknown for me.

Thanks peak. I had considered also going off on his use of "homo", the term many 13 year olds use for a gay permister, (but which, in reality, is Latin for "man", and thus not much of a slur - to adults) and pointing out how mad his mommy was going to be when she found out he was viewing porn on his computer. Then I remembered that it is not only not sporting, it is also just not much fun to fight a battle of wits with an unarmed man - so I didn't.

Anyhow, hope to post another chapter a little later, if all goes well.

Stormy:

You're off to a good start!

Sounds like this story will be one hell of a challenge to tell. I like the fact that it's coming from someone who claims for it to be true. It is a little odd that her hubby is also on this site, but they are not on the same page when it comes to the lifestyle.

I really look forward to hearing more and watching as you unfold her story to us.
Cuck who loves a creampie.

Stormy,
Great to have you back. I was gone for 60 days and when I got back everyone was gone. You have been greatly missed. We will enjoy any story you write. I am concerned about Ronnie being able to pay the rent on the boat.
I look forward to reading the stories you enjoy writing. Just wanted to let you know that I appreciate you ability.
A big thank you!
JJ

Stormy, it sure looks like that you are getting the hang of it. Telling a story from another point of view. I guess as long as she gives you good information, you'll be able to make it work. Three cheers good buddy.

I like this one! ;) Not too contrived and slow and steady.

Thanks C-4-1, glad to have you along! Hopefully this goes smoothly - I still have some doubts.

Hi jj, it's good to be back. I appreciate the kind words and support.

I appreciate it, Timmy. It's a different way of going at it anyhow, so that should be refreshing!

domywife, umm, thanks, I guess? Seriously, I appreciate the kind words, and that you took time to drop me a note!

A note: I will be gone for the next couple of weeks, but I was about out of notes anyway and couldn't have gone much further on my own. With luck I'll get more and be back in a couple - take care, all, and thanks again for the comments!
______________________________________________________________________ __


Matt has one of those “pub tables” in his kitchen, the kind that is higher than a normal table and requires a taller, bar-stool type of chair. I pulled out the chair at one end and slid onto it. He set my mug of coffee on the table in front of me and took the seat to my left, at ninety degrees to me rather than at the opposite end. For some reamister I had expected that he would sit at the other end of the table, and his nearness made me slightly uncomfortable. I could again smell his fresh, clean masculine scent as I breathed in, and wondered idly if my nostrils were flaring, like those of an natural.

His head slightly lowered, he looked at me from under his long, dark lashes, a small grin on his face. “Are you OK? Recovered from your scare?”

I had to laugh at his half-humorous, half-apologetic expression. “Yeah, I guess so – you’re lucky I didn’t just dive into the tank with your fish!”

He chuckled. “Well, better to have to find you a change of clothes than to have to explain to Ben why you’re laying on my floor, dead from a heart attack. He might be a little suspicious about how I got you out of your own clothes, but I know he’d never forgive me if I *******ed you.

He had slid his chair back so that he faced me at an angle, one elbow resting on the table. I was acutely aware of the way his towel had gapped where the two ends overlapped, exposing most of his thick, muscular right thigh. His legs were tanned and strong, with pale, soft hair lightly covering them, and he had a small drift of the same hair, speckled with gray, across his hard pecs and over the sharp ridges of his abdomen. My eyes followed the slightly denser central trail of hair to where it disappeared beneath the towel about three or four inches below his navel, my heart thudding in my chest as I contemplated following the trail to see where it went. Even sitting as he was there was a prominent mound where the towel stretched across his genitals.

Although I had been trying to take all of that in with my peripheral vision, my eyes had dropped momentarily to his lower stomach, and when I looked back up he was calmly looking directly at me, his soft gray-green eyes locked on mine. I felt the flame of heat in my face as I blushed, caught looking, but tried to cover it up. “So, home early, huh? What do you have planned for your extra time?”

He shrugged. “The usual, working around here, trying to get this dump back to a respectable condition. I got a great deal on it because it had been vacant so long and the bank needed to unload it, but it’s been a lot of work.”

“You’ve done so much already – it’s really starting to shape up. Especially the outside.”

He nodded. “Thanks. Yeah, pretty soon the weather will get colder and I can focus on the inside for awhile. It’s pretty bad too; the last owners must have trashed it when they knew the foreclosure was coming.”

I looked around. “It doesn’t look too bad. Needs paint, maybe a few little patches here and there.”

He shook his head. “It’s not quite as bad out here. You should see my bedroom.”

I stared at him, then smiled wickedly. “Does that line usually work with your other lady friends?”

It was his turn to blush, and he laughed. “OK, now we’re even. Believe it or not, that was completely innocent.”

I laughed too, enjoying the exchange. “I know, but it was too easy, I had to bust your ba…umm, give you some grief.”

He shook his head, still chuckling. “You’re fun, you know that? Look, I know this is weird, and I can see that you’re uncomfortable with me here half-naked. Why don’t you enjoy your coffee, and I’ll go put some pants on.”

“Matt, really, you’re fine. I mean, you’re totally covered, and we’re both grown-ups, right? It’s OK, really.” I had surprised myself by objecting to him getting dressed. I’m not sure if I was just trying to act more worldly than I felt, or if I was just enjoying looking at him too much to want him to cover up, but it turned out I was not done surprising myself.

He nodded. “Well, OK, if you’re sure. I just don’t want you to feel awkward about being here, with me.”

“No, I’m fine. Besides, you’re pretty easy to look at.” I don’t know why I said that! I was shocked to hear the words come out of my own mouth, and wished I could draw them back.

He looked at me for a moment, his eyebrows slightly raised, and then he shook his head. “Thanks. I guess now I should ask if you use that line on all the boys.”

I shook my head, feeling as though I must be as red as a tomato. I could barely mumble “No, I think that’s the first time.”

He smiled at me. “Well, thanks, it’s nice to hear. And likewise, by the way; you’re a very sexy lady.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I felt like we were walking on the edge of a precipice. Apparently he took my silence as disapproval, because he apologized. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I had no right. What I wanted to say is that I find you very attractive.”

I let out a sigh, feeling like I had been holding my breath. “No, it’s all right. Very flattering, really. I guess I’m just not very used to accepting compliments.”

He seemed surprised. “Really? You should be – I’ll bet Ben flatters you all the time.”

“He does. He’s very sweet, but sometimes it’s nice for a girl to hear it from another source. Thank you for that.”

“You two are good together. You’re very close, it looks like to me – but if you went out once in awhile without him on your arm you’d probably hear a lot more compliments. Spouses can kind of discourage that type of thing.”

I laughed as much at the idea as at the way he’d phrased it. “I suppose that’s true, but we’re just your basic old boring married couple, you know, in our comfort zone together.”

He looked at me. “Laura, are you really bored with it?”

“What? No! No, I didn’t mean it like that, it was just an expression. I mean, I guess we fall into our routines, do the same stuff the same way, but Ben is a great husband. I love him very much, and I know he loves me. He’s the greatest – I’m a very lucky permister.”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean like that. You two seem very happy together. It’s just that I was only married for twelve years, less time than you two, and I think we were bored with each other for a few years before that. Sharon lost patience with me being gone so much, first in the military and then for my job, but mostly it was the boredom that did us in, I think. We just lost interest in each other. I’d hate to see that happen to you and Ben.”

As he’d been talking, intently focused on what he was trying to say, his towel had slipped a little further apart in the front, exposing a few thicker, darker curls where his thigh met his groin. I was intensely aware that he was naked beneath that towel, and was within a fraction of an inch of exposing more of himself than either of us would be comfortable with. I dragged my eyes back up to his face. “Thanks Matt, but we’re fine. I mean, it’s not that same flare of excitement, not like it was right at first, but I guess that’s normal, isn’t it? I mean, people trade the thrill of the unknown for the comfort of familiarity all the time, right?” I realized how defensive I’d sounded, almost like I was surrendering to the inevitable rather than enjoying what I had, but the words were out.

He shrugged. “I suppose. Do you think it has to be that way?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe. Look, I probably made it sound worse than it is. I mean, it may not be exploding rockets and giant starbursts in the sky all the time, but at the least it’s still…I don’t know, sparklers and firecrackers.”

He roared with laughter. “Well, you sure sold me! I thought you were going to say smoke bombs and black snakes. I guess that’s my own marriage I was thinking about.”

He had made me laugh again. “Stop it, you know what I mean! It’s good, it’s dependable. I know I can count on Ben to always be there for me, and I’ll always be there for him. That counts for something.”

He nodded. “Yes, it does.”

His short, non-committal answer left me feeling like I needed to say more. “It’s what love is all about, Matt. We’re there; we listen to each other, and care. I mean, sex isn’t everything, right?” God! Now I was talking to him about sex – and worse, my sex life in particular! How in the world had that happened? I rushed to fill the void, but only succeeded in making it worse. “I mean, it’s good between me and Ben, but I guess people fall into a routine on that too, right? Not that Ben isn’t a good lover, he is, and he’s very giving. I guess it will just never be like it was at first, the tingles inside, that sense of discovery, the newness, the excitement…” I trailed off, realizing I was making a fool of myself. I had to look away, and could not meet his eyes.

He just sighed. “Yeah, well, I admire your spirit, your stick-to-it-iveness. Sharon and I couldn’t do it. Maybe we just never loved each other the way you and Ben do. He’s a very lucky man; I envy him.”

Turns out that Matt is a gentleman; he had let me off the hook very smoothly when he could have made me very uncomfortable. I had unwittingly blundered into telling him about my less than earth-shattering sex life – for what reamister I had no clue – and he had thrown me a lifeline when he saw that I was floundering. I smiled at him gratefully but he pretended not to notice, rising and getting the coffee pot to re-fill our mugs instead.

The rich smell of the dark brew filled my nostrils as he poured, momentarily masking his own seductive scent. “This is really good coffee; what kind is it?”

“It’s a special custom blend I pick up whenever I’m routed through Seattle. I’ll bring you some next time I’m there. Hell, it’s the least I can do since you won’t let me pay you for house sitting.”

I shook my head, smiling. “I’ll take the coffee – Ben will like it too, but house sitting takes a couple of minutes a day, it’s what neighbors do; you don’t have to pay me.”

“Yeah, that’s what you’ve said all along. Tell you what, how about if I take you out to dinner?”

“You don’t have to do that!”

“It would be my pleasure – in fact, I’d appreciate the company.”

I shrugged. “Oh, well, as long as you put it that way. I’m not real sure how Ben will feel about me going out to dinner with you though.”

He frowned slightly and rubbed his chin, as though considering that. “Well, yeah, I can certainly understand where he might be a bit hesitant. Of course, I was talking about taking both of you out to dinner, so…”

I smiled at the way he’d played along. “I know, I was just testing you. I guess I’d better get on home and let you get to your chores. Getting dressed would be a good start – although I have to admit that I’ve really started to like the way you look in that towel.” I was a little bit surprised to find out that I could tease him about that and not feel terribly uncomfortable.

He looked down at himself and grinned, which gave me the opportunity to look at the way the towel wrapped him as well. My tummy fluttered again as my eyes lit on the pronounced bulge front and center beneath his towel. “Thanks. It’s one-size-fits-all; maybe I’ll let you borrow it sometime. I’ll stay dressed and admire you instead.”

I laughed as I stood to leave. “I can’t imagine that happening! Somehow I don’t think I’d be quite as comfortable in that situation as you are.”

“I don’t know why not – you’d make this old towel look a hell of a lot better than I do.”

I felt myself blush, but also felt a small thrill of pleasure at his flattery. “Thanks. Let me know when you head out again, I’ll keep an eye on things.”

“Will do, and thanks again. Talk to Ben about dinner and let me know, OK? I’m available pretty much any evening I’m here.”

I assured him I would, and we parted ways. I found myself buoyed by the experience, somehow both uplifted and excited. There was an underlying sexual arousal, there was no denying that, but more than that it had been so much fun to play the word games, to verbally thrust and parry and flirt with a handsome, virile man, and feel that he found me desirable. The give and take of a new, sexually charged game like that was something I had apparently been missing, without ever even realizing it. It had been fun to be playful again, and I was left with a charge of…something, I don’t know. Endorphins, maybe, or adrenaline, or whatever hormones our bodies release when the sexual charge is in the air – because one thing was undeniable: Matt was very powerful, a very witty, handsome, and desirable example of the male of the species, and he had brought out something in me that I barely recognized after having let it lay dormant for so long.

Stormy, this is really coming along very nicely. Thanks for giving it a try. Have a great time at what ever you are doing for the next couple of weeks.

Oh my...... this story is a cliff hanger!

I sure hope she feeds you her notes soon.... the seduction is alluring.

Have a nice few weeks away and thanks for helping this fine woman tell her story.
Cuck who loves a creampie.

OK Stormy, you totally blindsided me on this one. As I said previously, I haven't spent much time here lately, summer activities and all that. I was under the impression that you were taking a sabbatical, so when I did cruise through, I wasn't looking for your name. Now here you go and start a story and I totally missed it.

Good to have you back my friend, for whatever this turns into. You know my wishes are to get you back on the boat, there's a lot of unfinished business to take care of with all of our friends. With that being said, as I said to you previously, I hope you have a wonderful summer and I also hope that you will find your way back to us. I miss your stories, they are just so enjoyable.

Take care,

TrF2

Beware once a woman feels free to fantasize about other men while she has sex with her regular partner. The first time my GF asked me if she could close her eyes and think about a friend of ours while we had sex amazed me. I didn't think she could really do it, but within a minute I suddenly felt a warm flow around my dick, and another warm gush. For a second, I wondered what it was, only then to realize she was getting wet, very wet. She was really somewhere else while I fucked her. She just lay there under me, her head turned to the side while my dick was even making soggy sounds in her pussy. It was the first time I realized that she could get very wet for someone else.

My current wife pretty much does the same. Thinking of other men while she rides my cock hard is the only way she can reach during intercourse with me. I'm not sure what to think of that. It makes me feel she never came WITH or FOR ME, something she has cheekily admitted.

Going strong Stormydog! Keep it going!

This is a very exciting story.

Jenn
If you aren't having fun, you aren't doing it right!

Timmy, thanks. We had a nice trip, but now it's back to the grindstone. Oh well, at least I can write a little more.

C-4-1, thanks for the comment. It does seem like the process of getting the story and turning it into this tale is going to be challenging. It's been fun so far though, just a few logistical delays.

Trf2 - Hey buddy, good to hear from you! It does seem like this summer has been hectic, and I guess my "sabbatical" was really more of a brief respite, so you're not the only one surprised that I'm back. I didn't expect to be, but this project came along. Probably will post a little less often though, especially on this due to the arrangement - but that may be a good thing, huh? I do have an urge to be back on the water again...

Ned, what you say is very true, although I agree with Laura that fantasy can be a nice (and innocent, really) addition to the act. It's not really cheating - it just feels like it. I sometimes make up stories to tell my wife as I touch and stroke her (always about other well-endowed, virile guys and her) and it never fails to to bring her to very intense orgasms, usually several in a row. Ahem, I mean, you know, not that I can't do that other ways as well...
Anyhow, she seems to really enjoy it.

Thanks Jenn. It can't hold a candle to your writing from the female perspective, but then, funneling it through a middle man is bound to cause a little loss in the translation. I hope I can do it justice as I hack away at it.

After spending that time around Matt (and him wrapped in his towel!) I seemed to be buzzing with nervous energy. Part of it was arousal; despite my attempt to act worldly and casual, the fact was that being there in his house with him, alone together, had carried a certain illicit feel to it, just a bit risky, or wanton. The fact that he had worn only a towel the entire time had strongly reinpowerd that feeling, and the verbal sparring we had engaged in, with its thinly-veiled sexual tension, had left me feeling like there were sparks jumping around on my skin. I felt very, very alive, for the first time in a long time.

Also, though, there was an element of fear that added to the nervous energy I was experiencing. I was afraid of the feelings that Matt had brought out in me. Not that I had admitted to him how I felt, but I had the very distinct sensation that he somehow knew, or at least sensed that I was very attracted to him. And yet I had no idea if he was attracted to me in the same way! The fact that I hoped that he was – thought maybe he was - just bothered me all the more. I had no business thinking of him the way I did, and in fact did not want to, but I couldn’t help it. It was what it was, and the fact that I had such feelings probably made me assign the same thoughts and feelings to him, when, in all likelihood, none existed. My worry about his ability to read my thoughts probably came from the same place, and was probably just as far off base.

Most importantly to me, though, and helping me to cope with my forbidden desire, was that I could barely wait for Ben to get home! I was aroused, wet and ready, and I wanted him so badly all that day. If I thought of slipping that towel off of Matt when Ben was inside of me – and I knew I would – it was still OK, because it was my husband that I would actually be with. Matt would be just a phantom in our home, a creature of my imagination – albeit one that lived right across the street. I felt like a caged leopard all day, pacing the confines of my three-bedroom, two and a half-bath home as I waited. My horniness had barely ebbed when Ben did finally get home, and if he was at all surprised by how aggressive I seemed he sure didn’t seem to mind when I pushed him back onto our bed and climbed on top, his pants and tighty-whiteys around his knees and his shoes, jacket, shirt, and tie still in place.

When I guided him into my wet and ready pussy I came quickly, the pent-up energy releasing in a massive, mind-numbing orgasm as I rode him. I almost called out Matt’s name as I came, imagining him beneath me, and I wondered later if maybe I would have done so intentionally – and how Ben might have reacted! I came a second time before Ben reached the point where he couldn’t hold back any longer, and I felt his penis spasm and pump as he released himself inside of me. Even when he was finished my hips continued to pump back and forth against him, almost of their own accord, as if I still had this little urge, this itch that needed to be scratched. I let out a small, unintentional groan of frustration as I felt his softening penis slip out of me, and I rolled off to one side, putting my arm across my eyes.

As I lay there, breathing heavily from our exertions, I heard Ben’s shoes hit the floor as he kicked them off before rolling onto his side next to me. His hand slid up my ribs to gently cup my right breast, and his thumb made its familiar move to my nipple, lightly stroking as he always does. His lips near my ear, he murmured “Wow, that was a nice welcome home! I’d have left early if I’d known what was waiting for me.”

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. “Sorry. I was very horny, I just needed you.”

I heard him snort softly. “Huh! I’m not sorry, that was great! Plus, you know, it’s kind of nice to be needed.” He paused then, and I knew he was sensing my thoughts. The same s******* I attributed to Matt, the ability to read my mind, Ben actually has, probably due to all the years we’ve been married; it made my thoughts of Matt all the more unbearable that I was sure Ben knew what I was thinking sometimes. At that moment he seemed to sense that I wasn’t quite finished, and his hand slid down my stomach and between my legs, his fingers finding the wet pool between. “You’re very wet.”

“Gosh, I wonder why!”

He shook his head. “No - I mean yeah, that too, but you were very wet when you first put me in you, way before I added my stuff to it.”

“I told you I was horny.”

“Mmm-hmmm, you really were. I’m not sure what got you that way, but I approve!” His fingers were gently touching me, slipping just inside of my opening and then rubbing the mix of his fluids and mine over my still-aroused little nubbin, making tiny circles and flicks on my sensitive bud. It was starting to feel really good, and I knew my hips were back on automatic, moving under his touch. He moaned low in his throat. “Mmmm, I love the way you feel, all wet and slippery and warm. So nice.”

It was too, and I could feel him drawing another orgasm from deep inside of me, the tension building as he touched me. He withdrew his wet fingers from my sex and rubbed the mix of his cum and mine over my hard nipple, and when his magic fingers returned to my hard clit and he leaned over me and sucked my cum-slick nipple into his mouth I exploded! My orgasm was sudden and violent, my body bucking upward into his hand as he thrust his fingers inside of me and I crushed my clit against his palm. I cried out, I know I did, but if anything other than a loud “Oh God!” was intelligible I don’t remember it. It scared me a little, the intensity of my orgasm, and I think it might have startled Ben as well, but he just stayed with me, wringing the last of my pent-up arousal from my body.

When I was spent and finished, feeling like I was floating over the bed and looking down on a hollow shell of my body laying next to my husband, Ben chuckled softly. “Well, that was fun! Apparently you weren’t quite done when I was. Sorry about that.”

When I could breathe again I said “Don’t be, that was amazing! Besides, I couldn’t expect you to last any longer, not the way I practically attacked you. Was it all right for you?”

“Are you kidding? It was great, I loved it!” As he spoke he again rubbed a copious amount of our combined juices from his fingers onto my nipples before leaning over me to slowly suck it off. It’s something he has done before, sampling the taste of us, and it sometimes would lead to a second round of sex.

But not today. “Mmm, that feels good honey, but I’m done. Boy am I done!” I hesitated for a second. “Benny, do you like the taste of us, together like that?”

He nodded. “I do when it’s on you. Plus, I like the way it feels, and the way you react to me doing that. It usually gets you all hot again.”

I agreed. “Usually, but not today. I think I used up all my orgasms for the next month on that last one. God, that was good! You got s*******s, mister!”

“Why thank you ma’am, you inspire me!”

We laughed at each other as we settled into our comfortable post-sex ritual of compliments and teasing. I love him, I really do, and I know he loves me. So why had I just had maybe the most intense sexual experience of my life after spending the day admiring and then fantasizing about another man? Ben deserves better; at that moment I made a silent pact with myself to be better, to be the wife he deserves. I think maybe even then I knew I was kidding myself.

We got ourselves together and went down to dinner, our lives settling back into their routine for the evening, but all evening I had this warm, fulfilled feeling, the sense of being loved and needed, and the sweet afterglow of great sex. For the next few weeks, nothing much happened. I continued to look after Matt’s home when he was away, and I totally behaved myself the few times I was around Matt, although I continued to find him in my head when my thoughts should have been of Ben, and life somehow went on.

He did eventually take us out to dinner to thank us for helping him by keeping an eye on his place, to a steak house called Smith and Wollensky’s. It was excellent, and very expensive, and we polished off two bottles of very fine, very pricey Cabernet with our meals. Ben and I had wanted to go there for awhile, but it always seemed like a ‘special celebration’ kind of a place because of the cost – not that we couldn’t afford it, but we had both been raised to not throw money around foolishly. Once we went with Matt, we both regretted not going sooner. It really was that good!

Both Ben and I found Matt very easy to talk to, and the wine probably lowered our inhibitions even farther. I could feel the warm buzz slowly filling my head as the tender, perfectly grilled filet filled my stomach, and by the time we retired to the bar for a nightcap I was very, um, let’s say “mellow”. I was very relaxed, very warm and loving feeling, and when I found myself in a small, cozy horseshoe-shaped booth between my two favorite guys I was quite content with the situation. Dumb, I know, but wine – and red wine in particular – does that to me!

The booth was probably meant for two, perhaps an intimate setting in which a couple could share takes and secrets, and I found myself pressed between the two men. I had dressed up for out evening out - we all had to some degree, the men in nice slacks, Ben in a crisp blue and white pinstripe dress shirt – with button-down collar – and Matt in a very soft charcoal gray t-shirt of some slightly shimmery fabric which hugged his powerful shoulders and chest and wrapped tightly around his bulging biceps. I found myself watching the muscles in his thick forearms move smoothly under his skin as he raised his take to his lips.

I had worn one of the two nice cocktail dresses I own, the red one, which, with my special Victoria’s Secret bra shows off my breasts to best advantage. I’m not terribly busty, just average I suppose, a 34C, but I think the girls still look pretty good for a woman my age. I had caught Matt sneaking peeks at my pushed up and pressed together breasts, so apparently he approved! That bra really does make for some nice cleavage! The dress was also somewhat short, although it is an inch or two longer than my black one, but crushed in the booth it had ridden well up on my thighs, and I had no room to tug it back down. Fortunately, nobody could see that!

Even through the soft buzz of the holy water it was strange to be between these two men, both of whom had been such a big part of my life – both real and fantasy – over the last several months. I had made a promise to myself early on not to compare them; it’s not fair, they are two completely different people, with different lives, and I knew I wouldn’t want Ben comparing me to another woman and finding me wanting. Still, I had unquestionably made some comparimisters, such as Matt’s six foot three inch height next to Ben’s five nine. I couldn’t help it! Ben is the man I know best, the one man about whom I pretty much know all, and so I guess he is the natural basis for any comparimisters I might make.

Pressed between them as I was, other comparimisters were inevitable, if only because the differences were so pronounced! Matt was just so much bigger than Ben, his thick shoulders and neck towering above my own, while Ben sat just barely taller than me. To make more room in the booth, Matt had rested his long arm on the curving back of the seat behind me – not touching me, just back behind my shoulders – and as a result my shoulder was pressed to his ribcage, just below his arm, drawing my attention to the impressive depth of his chest, and his square, well-defined pecs. Our legs were pressed together from hip to knee, and I was very aware of his warmth. And of the fact that his thick, powerful thigh was easily three times the thickness of my own slender leg. The setting was far more intimate that it had any right to be, with me pressed against and touching my husband and Matt as we talked and laughed together, and I could feel my heart racing, and the heat building inside, low in my belly.

I had ordered a Brandy Alexander, a rich, sweet and creamy dessert take which I occasionally allowed myself. It’s incredible, but loaded with calories! Matt had asked for a chocolate Martini, and Ben had opted for an Irish coffee. My take seemed a little strong, the brandy taste a little more than I was expecting, but it was good. I could feel it working on my head though, and I’m going to blame it for what I did next; when Matt rubbed his hands down his pants legs, as if drying them or massaging his thigh muscles, I felt the tips of his fingers lightly touch my thigh, through my hose, and when he brought his left hand up to reach for his take, he left his right resting on his leg, his fingers just barely touching me. Just barely, but to me it felt like fire, like heat radiating into my leg, and I lowered my left hand, putting it over his and leaving it for just a moment as he glanced at me in surprise.

If that had surprised him, what I did next seemed to shock him. I wrapped my fingers over his and pulled his hand across from his leg to mine, pressing it to my thigh and holding it there, and I felt his entire body tense against me! He looked at me, a question in his gray-green eyes, but I just smiled at him and tried to act casual, as if my heart wasn’t beating so fast it was about to burst out of my chest! It was beating so hard that I was sure both men could hear it, and I was mildly surprised when Ben didn’t ask me what was wrong with me. Between my pounding heart, the butterflies in my stomach, the heat radiating up my leg from Matt’s hand on my thigh, and the fireworks going off in my mind, I felt myself melt inside, a soft, molten liquid feeling that centered itself between my legs. I think that if Matt had moved his hand up my leg at all, even an inch or two, I might have come right there on the spot.

Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – he didn’t. He also didn’t try to withdraw it however, he just left it where I had placed it, about midway between my knee and my…well, you know. Ben seemed completely oblivious to what I had done, and I suppose he was – it’s not like he could see my legs. The only danger was if he were to reach below the table to touch me and find another hand already on me. That would be very bad, but somehow the risk just made it more exciting! Ben just continued to talk and joke with Matt, who managed to play along, seemingly completely innocent and unconcerned. I was almost afraid to speak, afraid my voice might come out as a weird squeak or something, but when I had to respond to a question it seemed to be OK. And so we carried on our conversation normally, just an old married couple out with a friend, and I felt Matt gradually relax alongside of me.

After a few more moments, perhaps as much as a minute or two, I felt his strong hand squeeze my leg, his big mitt feeling like it wrapped halfway around my thigh, and it gave me a little thrill-rush. Moments later, when his fingertips began to lightly caress the inside of my thigh, my heart rate – which had begun to settle down a little – instantly spiked back up. I wanted him to move his hand upward, to touch me, to feel how aroused I was, but then I didn’t; I was frightened of what I was feeling, the holy water confusing me, making me do things and feel things I shouldn’t. I wasn’t so far gone that I was going to make a complete fool of myself, just far enough to be confused and disoriented, to know right from wrong, but maybe to not care so much which was which. It was very scary, but very exciting!

Matt, damn him – or bless him, depending on how I felt from moment to moment – never moved his hand. Just his fingers, which kept stroking the sensitive skin on the inside of my left thigh. It was the most maddening, most delectable *** I have ever experienced, his touch lighting a fire inside of me. I knew I was wet, intensely aroused; I wondered if my panties, a smallish red thong, would be wet, and if the men would catch the aroused scent of my sex, or in some other way sense my arousal. I thought they must, it was too much, too obvious, too blatant. I felt like everyone in the room could see how turned on I was. I had never felt this way before, safe and secure with my loving husband beside me, but intensely aroused and fighting a powerful desire for another, a man I couldn’t have but so desperately wanted.

I wanted both, damn it! Why couldn’t I have both? I could make both of them happy, I knew I could, and it seemed like an answer, one that made a great deal of sense to me in my moderately takesen state. Fortunately, I was not so takes that I voiced my brilliant idea. That would have ruined everything!

Stormy:

This woman's story is very exciting and she's doing a great job of getting her feelings across for you to put to pen.

Thanks again for posting and making this a nice story to read.
Cuck who loves a creampie.

Thanks scuba, that's a nice compliment. Oh, and trust me; I think for the writers no comment is trite, it's just good to know that someone is reading your efforts. Even better when they're enjoying them!

C-4-1, thanks again. She's pretty open and descriptive - surprisingly so sometimes! Right now I have enough for probably one shortish additional post after this one, depending on how much detail I go into. May get some more this weekend, not sure. I appreciate your ongoing support!

Hope y'all enjoy this segment. As a husband, I enjoyed it a lot.
_______________________________________________________________




We nursed our takes as we sat and talked, Matt’s fingers touching and teasing the entire time as he nonchalantly carried on a conversation with Ben and I. I remember being amazed that he could do that so easily, and then being surprised to realize that I was doing the same thing, calmly acting as if everything was perfectly normal! And it was acting, putting up a calm exterior while on the inside my emotions and my libido were both running wild. I still don’t know how I did it!

We left the restaurant after just the one bar take each, and it was both a relief and a disappointment to no longer have him touching me. Although we had all three come in Ben’s car – Matt’s big jeep being a little rugged for evening wear, not to mention how I could have climbed into it without putting on a show – Ben admitted that he had probably drank a little more that he should have before driving us home. Matt offered to drive, which made a lot of sense. He probably weighs at least double what I do, and easily fifty or sixty pounds more than Ben, and so was less affected by the holy water. He may even have had less to take that we had, because he monitors his holy water intake very closely due to his job flying huge jets. I knew from things he had said that he would not have had anything at all to take had he not had the following day off. Ben gave him the keys and got in the back seat, leaving the front seat alongside Matt open for me.

It was only about a twenty minute drive to our homes, and I remember thinking – hoping – that Matt would touch me some more as he drove. He couldn’t, of course, as Ben would have seen his arm stretched across between the two front seats, but I’d been too takes to take that into account. Mildly disappointed, I sat and looked out my side window as Ben and Matt discussed the upcoming Chargers-Eagles game.

There was a pause in their conversation as we stopped for a red light, and I turned and looked at Matt, catching him looking down at my legs. I had been unaware that my dress, already short, had ridden well up on my thighs, exposing the stretch lace at the top of my stockings; until I glanced down to see what he saw. When I looked back up at his face, his eyes darted up to mine, just for a second. Then the light turned green and he looked ahead, pursing his lips and blowing his breath out noisily between them as he started us moving forward. When he glanced over at me the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, and he had a small, crooked grin on his lips as he shook his head just ever so slightly. Knowing I was blushing – and hoping he couldn’t see that in the darkness – I shifted around and tugged my dress down the little bit that I could.

Inside of me though, the butterflies were darting around, and I almost wished I was bold enough to go ahead and give him a good flash of my red satin panties. I wondered if he would have been able to tell how wet they were! Feeling guilty for having such thoughts with Ben sitting right behind us, I looked over my shoulder at him to see if he’d been at all aware of the little exchange between Matt and me. He apparently was oblivious to us, leaning back and looking out his window. Sensing my eyes on him, he glanced over at me, met my eyes, and gave me a little wink and a smile. He’s just so cute, I had to smile back. Even in my mildly inebriated condition I knew I was lucky to have such a warm, caring, loving husband!

When we arrived at our house I reached up and hit the button to open the garage door, and Matt pulled Ben’s car in next to mine. We stood on the front walk for a few minutes, chatting, and I thanked him again for taking us out for such a nice dinner.

He smiled at me, a flash of mischief in his gorgeous eyes. “Hey, my pleasure! It’s the least I can do for all the time you spend looking after my place. Besides, how many times does a guy get a chance to go out on a first date with a beautiful woman and not spend the entire evening wondering if he’s going to get lucky or not?”

We all laughed, but I felt a flush of pleasure at his flattery. Just shows you how easy I am! Ben put his arm around me. “Yeah, it’s not exactly our first date, but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna get lucky!”

Matt laughed as I felt myself color. “Yeah, well, now I’m really jealous! You kids have a fun night – don’t even think about the poor lonely bachelor across the street crying himself to relax!”

He and Ben shook hands before Matt turned to me. “Thanks again Laura, I really appreciate you looking after me.”

“Matt, it’s no problem, really – I actually enjoy watching your fish. Thanks again for tonight, we enjoyed it.” Then he did something that caught me completely off-guard; he leaned down and in to kiss me! Surprised – and also influenced by holy water - I didn’t think about the fact that a chaste and appropriate peck on the cheek was no doubt what he’d intended; and so, when I turned my head to kiss him, our lips met! Just for a brief moment, just long enough for me to register how soft and warm his lips were, and to taste the slight cocoa taste left from his take, but also long enough for a powerful electric shock to go straight to my groin, and I felt my knees tremble.

Matt smiled as he pulled back, one big hand on my shoulder. “Well! I see I’ll have to buy you expensive steaks and ply you with wine more often!”

I was horribly embarrassed to have committed such a faux pas – mostly because Ben was right there, watching – but to his credit he just laughed. “Hey, no making out with my wife! Besides, the expression is kissin’ cousins, not kissin’ neighbors!”

Matt, laughing, held up both hands, palms out as if to protest his innocence. “Hey dude, she started it!”

I know I stammered. “I did not! Not on purpose, anyway! I just…ohh, damn…goodnight!” I turned and headed back into the garage, and I heard Matt laughing as he walked down our driveway. I glanced back just in time to see him toss a quick wave over his shoulder as Ben turned to follow me into our home. Inside I dropped my small purse on the kitchen table, still rattled by that kiss. To hide my emotional turmoil I crossed to the sink and began to rinse the couple of dishes we’d left there from lunch, in order to put them in the dishwasher and start it.

I felt rather than heard Ben come up behind me, and so when he put his hands on my hips it didn’t surprise me. He leaned into me and nuzzled the back of my neck through my hair. “Mmm. Did you have a good time tonight?”

“I did. How about you?” I turned my head slightly and he kissed that spot just below my ear, at the corner of my jaw. He knows the exact spot there, on my neck, that is very sensitive for me, and I felt myself shiver under his touch.

He nodded slightly, still kissing and nuzzling me. “Yeah, I had a great time. Matt’s a good guy, fun to hang out with.”

“I’m really glad you two hit it off so well; now you have somebody you can talk sports with.” His hands left my hips, sliding up my sides and around front to cup my breasts, which he gently squeezed, and I took a deep, shuddering breath.

He kissed my neck again. “Did I tell you how hot you looked tonight?”

“Mmmm! I do believe you mentioned that.”

“Pretty sure Matt thought so too. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.” He was pressed to my back, and I could feel him, his penis hard against my bottom. I pushed back against it, moving my hips, and he ground it into me.

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating. I think he dates a lot of young, beautiful women.”

He snorted. “Trust me, tonight he was only interested in you. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you.”

“Oh, stop it!” I looked over my shoulder at him, and then away again. “Did that make you jealous?”

“Jealous? Why, because right now he’s at home jerking off while I’m here playing with your boobs? Why would I be jealous of that?”

I shrugged my way out of his arms, embarrassed by the thrill that went through me at Ben’s words. “Will you quit it? He is not doing that! Why do you have to be so disgusting?”

He just laughed. “Do you think he’s good-looking?”

I turned back to the sink, afraid to look into his eyes, afraid he would read my thoughts. “I suppose most women would find him attractive.”

“Mmm-hmm, probably. But that’s not what I asked you.”

I turned to face him, my eyes dropping for a moment to the tell-tale bulge in his slacks. “Yes, Ben, for a man his age he’s good looking. He’s one of those lucky guys that ages so nicely, and it doesn’t hurt that he stays in such good shape.”

He nodded. “I figured you were probably hot for his bod’.”

I turned back to the sink, startled by his prescience. “I am not ‘hot for his bod’, as you put it. You asked me if I thought he was good-looking, and I answered you.”

He pressed himself to my backside again, the hard ridge of his erection pressing into the valley of my bottom. His hands dropped to the hem of my dress, and he eased back just long enough to lift it up to my hips before again pressing himself to me. My thong allowed him to nestle more closely into my crevice, and I could feel the heat of his sex. “So, did being all close and intimate with him tonight make you horny?”

“Would you please stop!?” I pushed my butt back against him. “It feels to me like maybe it made you horny.”

He laughed. “You know that dress always has this effect on me. You look so beautiful, so hot. Good enough to eat.” His hands found the elastic waistband of my panties and he began to ease them down over my hips. When he had them down to my thighs he left off and let his fingers wander back up to cleft, and I felt him touch the small patch of pubic hair I leave at the front. When his finger slipped between my lips and found my most sensitive spot I felt myself shudder slightly, and a small moan escaped my lips.

“Ohh, god Ben, let’s go upstairs.”

He ignored my request. “Wow, you’re really wet. Even your panties are wet. Still want to try to tell me you’re not turned on?”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

“So you do think Matt is hot. You seemed to respond to him.”

I was becoming more than a little exasperated with his obsession with what I thought of Matt. He was starting to make me very uncomfortable, but I couldn’t very well tell him that. Fortunately my buzz was starting to wear off, and I was able to think somewhat more clearly. “Benny, it’s pretty sexy for a girl to be out somewhere and look around and see that she’s with the two best looking guys in the room. It’s kind of an ego thing. It was fun, and yes, it’s a little bit arousing. But you get all the benefit from it, right?”

“Mmmm, lucky me!” He dropped to his knees behind me and slid my wet panties down my legs, and then carefully over my heels, freeing them when they caught momentarily on the strap of my left shoe. He commented again on how wet they were before he once again lifted my dress, and I felt his lips on my tush, gently kissing, caressing. I let out a little yelp when he gently nipped my ass. “Ow, hey!”

“Mmm, I said you looked good enough to eat.”

“Yeah, well, don’t!”

“Are you sure?” I felt his tongue, warm, wet, and incredible as he ran it into the upper part of my crack, at the base of my spine, and I know I shuddered. It felt really good! He pulled my legs back toward him, and I stepped back, leaning forward with my arms on the edge of the sink. His tongue continued its exploration, down and down, until I felt the tip of it tickle my anus, and I moaned again.

“Oh god, Benny! Please can we go upstairs?”

“Mmm-mm, not now. I’m busy.” With his face buried in my bottom his voice came out muffled, but as his tongue found my pussy I discovered I’d quit caring about that. I bent further forward and felt him push his tongue into me, and I knew I was very close to reaching orgasm. Just as I thought I was there, the crescendo at my fingertips, he stopped. “You are just totally soaking wet! I’ve never seen you this wet! I think you really like our neighbor.”

I was past caring what he thought about that as well. “God, Benny, don’t stop!” To his credit, he didn’t! He pushed his face against the back of my thighs, his nose pushing into my little rosebud as his tongue parted my lips. He was making wet, sexy, slurpy noises as he lapped at all of my hot and dripping sensitive parts, and I came. God how I came! I’m not sure whether he was in more danger of drowning or suffocating, but trooper that he is he stayed with it until I stopped gasping and moaning and he felt the starch go out of me.

Then he rose to his feet and I heard his zipper go down. A moment later I felt him fumbling with his erection, getting himself lined up with me. When he did he slid in easily, his stiff cock gliding into my wetness. He groaned, and I knew it felt as good to him as it did to me. He began to thrust, to fuck me, but after about three or four thrusts he slid out. He guided himself back in, but after a few more thrusts it happened again, and a third attempt brought the same result.

This was not a good position for us. We had tried it before, a handful of times when passion had overtaken us in the kitchen or bathroom – once at the railing of a hotel balcony – but it just never worked very well. I guess I needed longer legs, or he needed shorter ones, or maybe I needed a smaller butt or he needed less of a pot belly. Or else a longer penis. Whatever, it was not going well.

I turned to him after the third time he slipped out. “Come on, let’s go up to our room.”

He shrugged. “I guess. I was hoping that would work.”

“It already worked for me babe. You rocked my world – again!”

He smiled. “Yeah, that was fun. I guess I need a bigger dick to do you standing up. Sorry about that.”

“I think your dick is just fine.” I wrapped my hand around it. He was wet and slippery, but not too slippery to hold on to. By that convenient handle I led him up to our bedroom, and I showed him just how fine his dick is. I think both he and his dick were very pleased with the way things worked out. I know I was.

Nice....... very nice!!
Cuck who loves a creampie.

Great story, thanks!

Same excellent stuff Stormy. I'm glad you're back to entertain us. Thank you for bringing us this very sexy story.
TrF2