Laura's Story

Again, the story and your writing are excellent. I really enjoy reading it... thanks alot!

Ben never questioned me about being at Matt’s house when he had come down from showering, ready to leave. I told him we had said hi to each other across the street, started talking, and the upshot was that we were going to pick up a replacement sprinkler head for our neighbor while on our errands, and he accepted that. We did, too, finding the right part at Home Depot as Matt had said. Ultimately however, Ben did end up helping Matt replace most of the system.

I was more than a little surprised that the two of them seemed to hit it off so well. Other than a love of sports – football in particular – and the fact that both of them are intelligent and possess rather laid-back, easygoing permisteralities, they did not appear to have much in common. Their jobs could not have been much more different, and where Ben is a stay-at-home type of guy that enjoys the comfort of his own bed each night, Matt loves his traveling lifestyle and takes advantage of his downtime in various cities to meet new people and explore new places. Ben is not exactly an introvert, he enjoys getting together with friends, but by comparimister Matt is a major extrovert; he's very comfortable in crowds, and people seem drawn to him. In addition, Matt’s apparent “gym-rat,” physical fitness regimen was something Ben wanted no part of!

Things seemed to get back to normal after our, umm, unusual dinner out with Matt. He stayed in his four to five days flying/two to three days off cycle. He was gone four nights almost every week and home for three, and I continued to take care of his place and his fish for him. There wasn’t much to it, and it had become an easy routine. If I had to pick a point, an incident where things really started to change and progress, it was probably the day I ran into Shari on the sidewalk in front of Matt’s house after I had locked up and was headed home. In case you’ve forgotten, Shari is the neighbor that lives, along with her husband Steve, right next door to Matt.

She stopped and waited for me to join her. “Hi Laura! Are you still watching over his place every time he’s gone?”

She knew full well, of course, that I was. Shari is, among other things, the self-appointed neighborhood snoop, and very little goes on that she is not fully aware of. “Hello Shari. Yeah, I am. It’s no big deal.”

“Why doesn’t he just stop his paper and mail?”

I just looked at her for a moment. “Come on Shari, every week? He can’t do that. Besides, he’d still need somebody to look after his fish, feed ‘em and stuff.”

“He could get a P.O. box – and why take a paper at all if he’s never around?”

“There’s still the fish, and as long as I’m doing that the rest is no extra work. As far as the paper – or any of it, really - why would you care?”

She frowned. “Well, it just seems weird.” She looked at me, and I could almost see her devious mind working. “He doesn’t seem to mind taking advantage of you. I hope he pays you well!” I think she was rankled because he had not asked her to look after things. I have to give him credit for recognizing a snoop when he saw one; if he’d given her a key to his vacant home he would have no secrets.

“Shari, he doesn’t have to pay me, it’s just a neighborly thing to do. It takes all of a couple of minutes a day!”

“Well, I still think it’s pretty nervy! Has he ever tried to put the moves on you?” I knew exactly why she had asked that; it was because she had tried to come on to him soon after he’d first arrived, exactly as Ben had predicted she would, and he had politely shot her down by ignoring her advances and not playing along with her flirting. It had seriously pissed her off, and she’d had almost nothing kind to say about him since.

Still, her question caught me off guard. “No! We’re just friends! Besides, when I’m here it usually means he’s not, remember?”

“Maybe he’s gay. He’s probably gay.”

“Shari, Matt is not gay. He dates women, I’ve seen him – so have you.” I had to get that last part in, just to let her know that everyone knew exactly how nosy she is.

She shook herself huffily. “Huh! That’s probably just a front to hide that he’s a queer.” She eyed me for a second or two. “Have you ever looked around his house to see if he has gay porn stashed away?”

I was so shocked by her suggestion that my first response was a startled laugh. “Now you’re being ridiculous! He is not gay, trust me, and I don’t have to *** his privacy to know that!”

She stared at me in disbelief. “So you’ve never looked around, looked in his dresser drawers or checked out his medicine cabinet? None of that?”

“No! I have been in his foyer, his living room, the kitchen, and the family room, where his fish tank is! Oh, and out on the patio, and in his garage - once.”

“You have the house all to yourself and you don’t snoop around a little? There’s something wrong with you Laura – aren’t you even curious?”

I shook my head. “About what? It’s just a house. If I wanted to know something about Matt, I’d just ask him.”

She smiled wickedly. “You could look and see what brand of condoms he uses, and if he has to buy large size ones – or see if he takes Viagra. You wouldn’t ask him those things I’ll bet!”

I laughed at her. “Shari, you are totally crazy! But you’re right; I wouldn’t ask him those things. They are none of my business, so why would I care? Besides, I seriously doubt that he uses Viagra.” I don’t know why I said that; I had absolutely no idea whether or not he used any erection haves. He had always just struck me as so totally masculine that I’d never considered that he could possibly need them, I suppose, but he was pushing fifty years old. Still, I should have kept my thoughts on the matter to myself, and I waited for Shari to ask me about my statement. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to have caught it, or if she did it did not strike her as unusual. She was on to more important questions!

“Have you ever seen him naked?”

I think I may have gasped! “Shari! Of course I haven’t seen him naked! Why would you even ask me such a thing? I can’t believe you said that!”

She just laughed, pleased with the shocked reaction she had elicited from me. “Well, since you seem to know him better than anyone else around here…”

Exasperated now, I shook my head. “Shari, come on! I just know him as a friend and neighbor, somebody to talk to – not like, you know, in a biblical sense.”

She laughed again. “A biblical sense, I like that! You’re such a prude.” I didn’t object out loud, but I am not a prude! I just have a little decorum, a few manners that my parents had worked very, very hard to instill in me – and anyhow, by her crude standards Howard Stern is probably a prude! She looked up at his house for a moment and licked her lips lasciviously, as if wishing he’d walk out naked any second – Matt, not Howard - before turning back to me. “I bet he’s hung like a horse!”

“God Shari, you’re disgusting! And why would you care? I mean, he’s gay, right? Just a big, gay, prancing horse.”

“Well, I could be wrong about the gay thing – and if I am, I’d prefer that he be well-hung.”

I almost pointed out that even if he was, her chances of getting anywhere near it were practically nil, but I bit my tongue. “Goodbye, Shari! I’ll leave you to your fantasies, I have to go home and get dinner started.”

“Bye-bye Laura. We should make it your mission to find out more about our new neighbor. Oh, and if you ever need someone to fill in for you taking care of things for him, I’m available!”

I didn’t point out that at this point, closing in on a year since he’d moved in, he was hardly a new neighbor anymore. Instead I just kept moving away from her. “Thanks for the offer Shari, but you’d have to clear it with Matt first; I wouldn’t feel right just passing his key around the neighborhood. I’ll talk to you later, OK?” I beat a hasty retreat, before she could think up any more crass comments. I guess Shari is harmless enough, and her un-requested neighborhood watch program probably does help deter crime, but for some reamister I always feel just a little greasy after I spend any time around her – as though maybe I could use a shower. She has always made me feel uncomfortable.

I will admit, though, that my conversation with her planted a seed in my head. Not about seeing Matt naked, and how he might be equipped; that seed had been planted, sprouted, and bloomed some time ago. I didn’t need her help with that one!

No, what she had done was pique my curiosity to know more about Matt, to maybe be privy to a few of his secrets. Not that I would ever go through his things as she’d suggested; that would be an invasion of his privacy, and a breach of trust on my part. What I did allow myself to do, several days after our little talk, was to wander down the hall at Matt’s and look into the other rooms. It wasn’t really snooping; he left all the doors standing open, and I would have had to pass the first two bedrooms just to use the bathroom had I needed to.

The first bedroom I came to he had set up as a workout room, well-equipped with various high quality exercise machines. He had a treadmill, a stair climber, a Nautilus weight machine with several stations, and an array of free weights. I don’t know why any of this surprised me, but it did. He looked like he was probably very dedicated to staying in shape, but I guess I had assumed he did most of his working out at hotels and health clubs while he travelled. The room also had a nice little boom box-style stereo and a small flat screen TV on one wall. It was a nice set-up.

The second bedroom was set up as an office. I knew it was a three bedroom house, so by process of elimination I guessed his bedroom would be next. His office was very masculine, and very orderly. He had a nice PC with a largish flat screen monitor, as well as a closed laptop on the desk – plus, I knew he carried a laptop with him. Apparently he was into computers, because all of the equipment looked very sleek and compact, very state-of-the-art. More interesting were the shelves of books, probably hundreds of books in all, lining shelves on two walls. Perusing the titles, I saw many volumes on aircraft and flying, a section on various historical topics, primarily past wars, and a lot of novels. I recognized a number of the authors as some I had previously enjoyed, which was a nice feeling of kinship to Matt. It seemed he was a voracious reader, as am I. The room also had a daybed along one wall, set up with large pillows to look like a deep sofa, so he was prepared for guests - or at least for one guest.

The guest bath was basic; nice, clean and attractive, well-appointed, but nothing to write home about. Entering his bedroom gave me a very odd feeling, like I was sneaking in somewhere that I wouldn’t want to be caught. I don’t know why – it was a very nice room! Apparently he had completed most of the repairs he had talked about some months earlier, and the room was decorated in mostly darker colors, simple, elegant, masculine. His king-size bed was neatly made and had a thick comforter on it in a relaxing hunter green and navy pattern with just a touch of burgundy thrown in. Four pillows in burgundy cases, thick and fluffy, made for a very inviting look. His head and footboards, dresser, and night stand were of high quality in rich, dark woods, with little clutter and no dust on any of them. He had a large, overstuffed recliner in one corner, and yet another mid-sized flat screen TV mounted on a folding bracket on the wall. It was all just simple and classy, very much what I would have expected of Matt. Neat and orderly, but very manly!

His master bathroom was much the same, not Spartan, but not overly opulent either. The thing was, it smelled like him. In a good way, I mean, clean like a good, masculine soap, but with an overlay of male musk and expensive cologne. It was a subtle but heady scent, and I just stood still and breathed it in for a moment before I noticed a persistent pounding noise; another moment before I realized it was my own heart pounding in my chest! When I put my hand on my chest I could actually feel it racing! I laughed at my own silliness, but when I saw his towels and washcloth hanging on the bars I realized that the sage-green towel was the same one – or at least was identical to – the one he’d worn around his waist the day we’d had our little coffee klatch. I put my hand on it; I don’t know why I did that, what I’d expected. He’d been gone a couple of days, the towel was dry, but when I lifted it to my face I could smell him, breathe his male scent as though my face was pressed to his neck, my body tight against his…

OK, that was enough! I dropped the towel back into position and fled his bedroom, fled his house, back across the street to the safety of my own home, where I lived with my husband. I paced nervously for a minute or two, confused by the jumble of thoughts and desires that cascaded through my mind. It was all just fantasy, food for later arousal with Ben, nothing illicit, but it had been so real, so…exciting! It was too much, and I knew what I was going to do! I went upstairs, undressed, sat in the small cushioned Queen Anne chair in the corner of our bedroom, and masturbated until I had a small, fast orgasm, and then, moments later, a huge, jaw-breaking, eyes-rolling-back-in-the-head orgasm!

My nipples had been hard when I undressed, as was my clitoris, stiff and tingling madly, and when I touched myself I was wet and slick. I wet my fingers at my opening, gathering some of my moisture to rub over my clit, and although I tried to start slowly, to enjoy the sensations, I was not entirely successful! Eyes closed, thoughts of Matt – how he looked, his voice, his scent, his rampant arousal, his much-imagined cock jutting proudly from his dark curls…

As my touch, my teasing and stroking of my sensitive bud sped up and became more intense, more…needy, my other hand went to my nipples, tugging and pinching, rolling them one and then the other, between my fingers, pulling on them. I was so lost, so involved, but I heard myself come, imagining him thrusting into me. I heard my voice, gasping, say “ohhh, god, ohhhhh, ohhh god, yesss!”, and that was just the first one, the small one.

For the second one I could only gasp, only make groaning, unintelligible natural noises, and then it all came together and blew apart. That’s how a really powerful orgasm feels for me; I don’t really know how to describe it, and it’s probably different for other women. OK, let’s try this; you know how it looks when you stand between a set of railroad tracks and look down the rails, how they seem to come together in the distance? I think it’s called parallax – but that’s what happens. As I become aroused, all the points in my body send these straight lines inward, all of them coming toward my lower tummy, right at my pussy, the way the rails come together, all the lines slowly – sometimes quickly - getting closer and closer to each other as I approach my peak, and then it happens, they all touch and then they all blow apart in an incredible rush of sensation! For me a good orgasm is like that, a whole-body experience!

I love it, I’ve always loved it from the very first time I masturbated and gave myself that first orgasm – even though the intensity of it scared me to death – and I still love it. I’m blessed that I can have orgasms at all, I guess - some women say they can’t - and I’m doubly blessed because, with the right enticement and the right stimulus, I can have them in bunches! It’s wonderful! I pity men sometimes, knowing their orgasms center mostly on their groins and are over with so quickly. I don’t know why you bother! And then only having one, then having to wait a long time before you try again – what’s that all about? Sometimes being a woman is a pain, but then I remember orgasms, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

Can't wait for the next installment. Thanks.

Stormy,

I would read an instruction manual and enjoy it, if you wrote it!

Rock on ! Another classic for your readers.
watcherdoit4fun

Stormy,
Watcher is right. You are the master. We really appreciate your time and effort. I wish we had a way to repay you, but for now a big thank you will have to do. I can assure you if you write it we will read it.
JJ.

DITTO to the three post above me.


Looking forward to the next segment from you and your mystery woman.
Cuck who loves a creampie.

I love the way you weave a story together Stormy. You are one of the best in my opinion. I'm not sure how much of the story line is hers and how much is yours, but the two of you together are building a great adventure. I just wish you'd get to the good stuff soon. You know, the penis/vagina getting together parts.

TrF2

Absolute top!!

Bighurt, C-4-1, and Ned, thanks. I am very glad you are enjoying her tale. It's very nice to get the notes letting me know, as it's a whole new type of adventure for me. Thanks for taking the time to drop a line!

Watcher,??? I though this WAS an instruction manual! Seriously, what a nice compliment - it is appreciated!

jj, thanks. Obviously I enjoy doing it, so no payment is needed. Sure do appreciate your support though. A thought, for anyone that wants to consider it; I donate to St. Judes Children's Hospital, an amazing organization that does brilliant work. They spend it wisely. Just a thought.

Thanks Trf2, you've been a huge supporter and friend over the years, and it is much appeciated. As to what is "Laura's" and what is mine, the storyline is pretty much all hers. As for the dialogue, she obviously does not remember conversations verbatim. She gives me the gist of the conversation, and where it went, and I fill in the blanks the way I would if I was talking. So far she's been fine with that. I am once again nearly out of notes, despite getting some further info last week, but I do have at least one more section to fill from what I have. Wish me luck!

I could only sit there, stunned, every muscle limp as a spaghetti noodle as I waited for my breathing to slow and my heart rate to drop back near a normal level. It had been good, the impetus of my own fantasy pushing me to an amazing, wonderful peak. Eventually, with that extremely necessary bit of business taken care of, I rose shakily to my feet and made my way into our bathroom to clean up a little. There was still that dinner that I’d told Shari I had to get started, and I hadn’t been lying to her about that.

In the kitchen I found myself in a very relaxed, very happy mood, humming as I worked. I was looking forward to having my guy get home, to spending the evening with him, and just maybe, later on, to some two-permister fun and games! One thing about sex for me – a little always puts me in the mood for a little more! Unfortunately the same was not true for Ben; a little usually puts him in the mood for a nap. This time though, with the preliminaries out of the way, I knew I’d be able to relax and really enjoy him, and that was pretty much what happened.

Ben, for his part, seemed to have become accustomed to me being somewhat more aggressive sexually over the past year, and he no longer questioned it. I think he took that “gift horse in the mouth” attitude, and to his credit he rarely ever tried to bail out on me, no matter how tired he was. Even when he was too tired to perform he would see to my needs. He claimed to enjoy doing so, and he always seems to, sometimes becoming inspired to fully join in when he hadn’t really planned to. I think I’ve mentioned that he is a generous lover. He seemed to have decided that there was just something in my hormones, at my age, whatever, that had raised my libido, and he was along for the ride. I did nothing to discourage him from making that assumption, but I knew it was primarily due to two things; my suddenly very rich fantasy life revolving around Matt, and the previously mentioned little bit of sex leading to a desire for lots more. Whatever it was, it seemed to be working for us!

Not a lot else happened for a couple of weeks after that day, the day I had so enjoyed my alone time. I pretty much stayed out of the rest of Matt’s home other than the rooms I needed to enter to drop off his mail and feed the fish, although I’m not really sure why. I don’t think I feared a repeat performance – actually, it had been quite nice, so a repeat would not have been a bad thing. I think I had just felt odd about it, it had been just a little too much like Shari and what she might have done, and I was not comfortable with that. I won’t lie to you and say that I was able to keep my mind off of Matt, or that I didn’t think about the way my mind had led my body to react to those thoughts. On the contrary, it was more like I was almost obsessed with the subject! I just kept thinking about him, and I know I talked about him enough that I noticed Ben starting to give me funny looks. I made a conscious effort to tone it down, and it seemed to work.

Until the day – it was a Friday, in mid-July, I know the exact date – that I was leaving to make a run to the grocery store. When I raised the garage door and backed my car out I had hit the button to close the door, and while I waited to be sure it closed fully, in the mirror I saw Matt in his yard across the street. He had pulled his Jeep up on the lawn and was washing it. Oddly, he had removed the canvas top and it looked like he was hosing out the interior! I backed out and then pulled over to the curb on his side of the street, lowering the passenger-side window so that I could call out to him.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

He turned and looked at me. “Obviously, I’m mowing the lawn.”

“No, smart guy, I mean why are you spraying water inside of your car?”

He dropped the hose and began to cross the lawn in my direction. I’ve failed to mention how he was dressed, which was possibly another reamister I’d stopped - although I think I’ll just chalk it up to being neighborly. He had on a pair of those loose cotton gym shorts – you know, the “Property of XXXX Athletic Dept.” kind, in royal blue with white lettering – and nothing else. Well, not entirely true, he did have sandals on his feet. He was big, and muscular, and tanned, and gleaming wetly, whether from sweat or hose splash I wasn’t sure – and honestly didn’t care – and my heart was hammering madly by the time he reached my car. I lowered my window as I watched him cross behind me in the mirror. He bent and looked in at me, his face inches from mine. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”

I cleared my throat as quietly as I could and repeated what I’d said, relieved that my voice sounded more or less normal. He just laughed. “Because it’s a Jeep, not a car. I honestly haven’t vacuumed it in three years, I just hose it out.”

“I didn’t know you could do that! I was going to offer to let you wash mine when I got back from the store, but not if you’re going to wash the inside.”

He grinned. “I’ll promise not to – but you’ll have to help wash, which means you’ll have to dress appropriately because you’re sure to get wet. I can guarantee that!”

Get wet, ha! If he only knew! Out loud I said “Oh sure, and Shari would make sure that was the talk of the neighborhood in no time! Guess I ought to take a pass.”

He looked at me oddly. “Why would you care what that old bitch says? We’d just be washing your car, right out in the open. Nothing illegal about that.”

I stared at him. I thought he was joking about washing my car, but now he seemed serious. “Matt…” I paused. ”Matt, we usually just run it through the automatic carwash, Ben takes care of it. I was just kidding.”

He nodded. “Well, if you change your mind…”

“Thanks.” I looked away, and then changed the subject. “Hey, do you know what next Sunday is?” He frowned, puzzled, before shaking his head. I went on; “It’s one year to the day since you moved in. We should celebrate your first anniversary in the neighborhood!”

He laughed. “I honestly had not kept track. I knew it was sometime in July, but that was about all. What did you have in mind?” He didn’t seem to think it odd that I knew to the very day when he’d joined us. I thought it was, but then I knew why I remembered it!

“Well, we could have you over for dinner, a few of the neighbors, maybe have a little party. Will you be home Sunday night next week?”

He thought for a moment. “Hmm, yeah, but I’ll have a flight out very early Monday. How about Saturday instead? Otherwise I won’t be able to join you in an adult beverage.”

I agreed to Saturday night. “But let me call Ben and clear it first. I don’t think it will be an issue for him.”

He nodded, and then looked through my car toward his Jeep. “Well, I guess I should get back to my work. Let me know if you change your mind about my carwash services.”

I laughed, my gaze following his. “I’ll keep it in mind. Hey, your yard looks great by the way; much better than it did one year ago!” When I turned back to him, he had straightened up and was looking over the roof of my car toward his yard. Vaguely, as if from a great distance, I heard him say “Yeah, thanks, it’s been a lot of work.”

The reamister it sounded so strange to me was that my attention had re-focused entirely on what was now framed in my open window; Matt’s very nicely wrapped and impressive package! One thing I noticed – although certainly not the first or most important thing - was that his shorts said “Property of the University of Kentucky Athletic Dept.” The other thing was that those same thin, wet, knit shorts were clinging to him in such a way that almost nothing was left to the imagination!

Not that I could or would have imagined anything much better than what I was looking at! His penis arched gently outward over his balls before hanging down, ending below the bottom of his large, bulbous scrotum and just an inch or so shy of the hem of his shorts. The wet fabric was stuck tightly to his thick shaft and rested on the upper swell of his balls, and the head of his cock, from the ridge at the back to the rounded tip, was fully, gloriously outlined by the blue fabric molded to it! It was abundantly obvious that he had nothing on under those shorts! I heard the ragged, excited shudder in my throat as I breathed in sharply.

Matt, for his part, was rambling on about some of the many changes he’d made to the yard, and all the work he’d put in. I was busy admiring his manhood, my heart pounding, unable to politely look away. It dawned on me that even now, flaccid like he was and maybe even a little bit shrunken by the cold, wet shorts, his cock was probably as large as Ben’s is when fully erect, possibly even thicker! Look, I know I’ve said I didn’t want to make comparimisters between Ben and Matt – and I know it’s silly and not at all fair to do so – but there it was. I don’t have a fixation on penis size, but I also don’t have a vast wealth of permisteral experience with assorted male members, and so Ben is my base, my jumping-off point.

Prior to Ben I had experienced sex with exactly four other guys – and none since! Well, OK, really only three, considering that with my boyfriend during my junior and senior years of high school we never got beyond heavy petting. No intercourse, we were both too terrified of pregnancy and all the other things we were constantly warned of. On two occasions we had acquired condoms, but both times he had come all over everything as we were trying to put it on him, so no dice. It was just as well, because despite my body’s insistence, I really was not ready. But we had touched and experimented - a lot! I had a fascination with making him ejaculate and had done so at every opportunity, and he was the first to ever come in my mouth. I think I wore him out sometimes, but he never complained, and he was able to bring me pleasure with his touch as well; I’ve always been pretty easy that way.

I had not lost my virginity until my freshman year of college, with a guy named Mark that I knew was going to love me forever, the way I loved him. After we broke up a couple of months later I had dated several more guys during my college years, two of whom became serious enough to relax with, but the point is I don’t have a large frame of reference. To me, five lovers by my age seems like a lot, especially considering that I’d been married for over half of my post-pubescent life, but I always hear about people that have had dozens of lovers. Of the five guys of whom I had carnal knowledge, all had been more or less the same in the equipment department, with just minor variations. None had been freakishly large, or pitifully small, in my modest experience.

Gerry, my high school boyfriend, had probably been the largest, or had seemed so at the time anyhow. He was probably a little over six inches, reamisterably thick, and uncircumcised, and it had seemed frighteningly large when considering having it inside of me! The others had all been close to that, between four and six inches, which I understand is about average. Just a bunch of average guys, some better at sex than others, but all able to bring me to orgasm! The only one I ever actually measured was Ben; you can do that kind of stuff when you’re married and have spent years together!

Ben, fully hard, is just over five inches. He makes wisecracks about it sometimes, self-deprecating remarks about his size, and he calls himself Mister Five-inch, to which I respond that I must be Mrs. Five-inch, because he fits me perfectly. We’ve rented videos and gotten adult pay-per-view a few times, so I’ve seen the kind of ludicrous, freakish big cocks that are out there in porn land; I’m just glad I’ve never had to confront one myself though, because they look almost scary, and very uncomfortable. Nice eye-candy, don’t get me wrong. They are fun to look at, and very impressive, and that does have the desired effect on me – but put one of those inside of me? No thanks! I don’t think I’d enjoy being poked in the lungs from below!

By the same token, I’ve seen picture online of guys with very small penises as well, and I’m very glad that I never encountered one of those either. Not that they might not have been just fine, and attached to very nice men, but I’m afraid I might have laughed. I would have hated to have done that, and probably hurt someone’s feelings, but seriously! You see some of these guys – sometimes big, stocky guys – with these tiny little nubs where a cock should be, and it just looks comical, ridiculous. I’m not sure I could have kept from laughing, and I don’t want to hurt anyone or make them feel insecure. Lord knows I’m not perfect, but I wouldn’t want to be laughed at! It was nice to see that Matt clearly did not suffer that deficiency!

So anyhow, back to Matt: Looking at his stuff on display, right there, inches in front of me, I had a very powerful urge to just reach out – not very far, really – and curl my fingers up below the hem of his wet shorts and touch him. It would have been so easy, and it was so tempting! I was rubbing my thumb and fingers together, imagining what he would feel like, how he might react; I could lift the edge of his shorts and touch him, grab him and pull him to me, slide my lips over that beautiful, round cock head and take it into my mouth with no effort, it was right there in front of me, thick and perfect…

My other hand was on the steering wheel, knuckles white with tension as I imagined doing the unthinkable, when suddenly he bent down again and we were face-to-face. “Hey, did you say you were going to the grocery store?”

Unable to speak, not willing to trust my voice, I nodded.

“Would you mind picking up a few things for me? Not much, just a couple of things.”

I shook my head. “No problem.” It came out as a weak croak, and he looked at me closely.

“Are you sure?” I nodded again, and he went on. “I need a gallon of OJ, a loaf of bread – get whole wheat, any brand – and a carton of Pepsi, regular, not diet. Is that OK with you?”

I shrugged, slowly regaining the ability to communicate. “Sure. Cans or bottles on the Pepsi?”

“Cans, the twelve-pak. You want me to run in and get some cash? I don’t have anything on me.” As he said that he straightened and made an exaggerated show of patting his sides, where pockets would have been in regular pants. These had no pockets of course, but the way he did it pulled them loose from where they had been wrapped around his junk, and the show was over. Well, not completely over – the wet fabric still stretched tautly across the prominent, enticing bulge at his groin, but it did not display the goods the way it had been. Oh, and he was definitely lying about not having anything on him - he had something quite exciting on him!

“No, that’s OK, you can pay me when I get back; I’m just going to debit it all.”

“Great! You’re a sweetheart Laura, I owe you one.”

“Well, my car still needs washing…” I could think of several other ways he could pay me back, all better than a clean car!

He laughed. “Not without your help – preferably in your bikini.”

“Just you never mind! I’ll bring your stuff over; I should be back in about an hour.”

“Don’t go to the trouble, just leave your garage door up or give me a buzz so I know when you’re home and I’ll come get it. I’m about done with the Jeep, and then I’m going to go in and work out a little and grab a shower. I’ll look for you later.”

With that settled I was on my way, all too aware of the moist, slippery heat between my legs. Staring at the blatant display of his manhood, right there in front of me, had left me extremely aroused. I felt all shaky and liquidy inside. For the first time I wondered, perhaps a little bit suspiciously, if he might have been more aware of the show he was putting on than he had seemed!

Stormy,
Don't know why I haven't said how good this is yet. Maybe I was distracted by how good it is. Anyway, I just thought I'd say that it is rather good. And I'm enjoying it. Thanks for coming back to us. I hope it cures your soul and gets you back to the boat, which then (almost) immediately docks so as to move its occupants on to the next phase in their story ..

Peak, you are a master of subtlety! Why don't you just say what you really think?

Stormydog:

Yet another really good segment!

It sounds like she's getting very close to feeling her first strange cock since she's been married.

I love the way you're BOTH telling this story, with a great buildup to what looks like will be the begining of a new Cuckoldress.


Mystery Woman:

Hope you keep Stormy supplied with plenty of notes to keep this rolling. Your story is very exciting!!
Cuck who loves a creampie.

C-4-1, I think you're right in your assessment - and thanks again for the comment. Unfortunately, this is all I have right now, although we're supposed to touch base over the weekend. It's a hell of a place to leave off, but what can I tell you?
______________________________________________________________________ _




That thought, that he might have known exactly what he was doing by putting everything so boldly on display the way he had, tumred around in my head for awhile as I considered the ramifications of it. Eventually I dismissed it; Matt had never done anything like that before, never tried to come on to me, or embarrass me – other than a few minor teasing comments – and I just couldn’t believe he had intentionally done so now, especially is such a crude (but effective!) manner. If he had done it on purpose though…well, if he had, maybe it meant that he was thinking of me with some of the same lascivious thoughts I was having about him!

I let that fun thought percolate as I did my shopping. Fortunately I had a written shopping list, because I was in no condition to remember all the things I’d needed! My mind was definitely elsewhere, and before I knew it I had everything on my list crossed off and had added orange juice, bread – whole wheat, as requested – and a carton of Pepsi to my cart and was checking out. I was definitely distracted; running my debit card is the simplest thing, I’ve done it hundreds of times, but I screwed it up twice before finally getting everything entered correctly.

I had the overwhelming feeling that every guy at the store could sense how intensely aroused I was, which I know is silly, but it seemed like I drew more looks than usual - and the checker, a thirty-ish Mexican guy, was inordinately friendly and chatty, almost flirty. Even the bag boy, a tattooed kid of probably eighteen or so, kept looking at me oddly. He’d worked there for awhile and had never given me a second glance on previous visits! I was probably overreacting and reading too much into things, but I was intensely aware of my heightened state of sexual excitement – why couldn’t they be just as easily? Maybe I was sending out signals!

At home I left the garage door open as Matt had suggested and carried my groceries in and put them away. I found room for Matt’s OJ in our refrigerator, but left his bread and soda sitting out on the island in the kitchen. Then I paced. I had things to do, some cleaning, a few other errands to run, but was too hyped up to organize my thoughts. When I passed the kitchen island for about the tenth time I gave up, pulled his juice from the fridge and grabbed his bread – I couldn’t figure out how to carry all three items and open doors without fear of smashing the bread, so I left the Pepsi on the counter – and headed across the street. At least if Shari saw me it would be obvious I was delivering groceries!

At Matt’s front door I hesitated; it felt wrong to just walk in, even though it was open to just the screen door, and despite the fact that I was accustomed to entering his home on my own all the time. I almost changed my mind and went back home before it dawned on me that the music I was hearing – at that particular moment, ‘Us and Them’ by Pink Floyd - was emanating from the open window about eight feet to the right of the front door – his workout room! I’d been a little worried about another shower or post-shower encounter, but if he was still working out…I rang the bell.

He called out, “Come on in, it’s open.” By the sound of his voice, he was definitely in the workout room. I entered and headed straight to the kitchen with his groceries. As I passed the hall I called back “just me, I brought your stuff over!”, and proceeded on. In the kitchen I left the loaf of bread on the counter and put his juice in his refrigerator. There was always plenty of room in Matt’s refrigerator, he seemed to keep very little food on-hand. When I closed the door on the fridge, he was standing there, in the hall, now in a pair of black shorts – disappointingly dry - and nothing else. He had a small “sweat towel” in his hand, with which he wiped his neck.

“You didn’t have to do that – I told you I’d come and fetch my stuff.”

“It’s no problem, but you will have to come get your Pepsi, I couldn’t carry everything at once. Don’t you ever wear clothes?”

My non-sequitur did not seem to faze him. “Well, not to work out – or to wash my car. Or right after a shower, come to think of it. I suppose maybe this is starting to look a little suspicious.” We both laughed before he went on. “Come on back for a minute, I’m doing circuit training and I have a couple of stations left. We can talk.”

I trailed him across the room and back to his workout area. Pink Floyd was still singing. “Wow, what’s with the slow music? I prefer something really hoppin’ when I work out.”

He acted hurt. “What? I like Pink Floyd.”

“So do I. I used to listen to my parent’s records all the time, but…”

He clutched his heart, feigning a direct arrow hit. “Oh, ouch! Your parent’s records – was that a cheap shot, young lady?”

I laughed, suddenly realizing how that had sounded. “Oh come on! You’re not that much older than me; they were before your time too!”

He chuckled as he shrugged. “True, but that era was pretty much the last of the good rock’n’roll, so I listen to the classics station. You can change it if you like.” I didn’t. He sat at the Nautilus machine, his back to me, and commenced a long set of leg presses. He was using a substantial stack of weight plates – almost all of them. I did a quick calculation and came up with 480 pounds, to me an impressive number. His thick thighs were taut and pumped as he pushed on the footrests, the muscles straining, and his whole body glistened with a light sheen of sweat, his calves bulging. Incredibly, his voice did not sound like he was straining at all. “Thanks again for getting that stuff for me, you saved me a trip.”

“Matt, forget it. I was already going.” He continued to push the weights up, again and again. I figured he was doing a set of twenty-five reps. “You have a really nice set of equipment here, almost as good as my gym!”

“Thanks. I use it quite a bit; I didn’t want cheap crap that would break down a lot. You and Ben can feel free to use it anytime, you have a key.”

I laughed. “Well thanks, I might take you up on that, but Ben would rather have his testicles bitten off.” God! Why did I always say stupid sexual things about me and Ben when I was with Matt!

He just laughed. “Well, if he doesn’t start keeping himself in a little better shape, he might as well do that. You want me to work on him?”

I considered it. All of my pestering had accomplished nothing except to piss him off occasionally. Maybe, coming from another guy, but…”No, not the way you look. That might make him feel a little insecure; he doesn’t look quite so, umm…fit. I don’t want him to be embarrassed.”

He shrugged. “Well, let me know if you change your mind. One more set of bench presses and I’m done. I don’t suppose I could talk you into getting me a glass of orange juice..?”

“Sure, but I can’t believe you can work out so hard and take something acidy like that. I’d die of heartburn!”

He chuckled as he lowered himself onto the bench. “I guess I have a cast iron gut.”

“Uh-huh – and buns of steel!” Now why had I said that?! I felt the hot rush of red to my face, my blush beginning.

He laughed. “Hey, thanks for noticing! I also have brass balls – it’s hell going through the metal detector at the airport!”

Laughing and blushing simultaneously, I fled to the relative safety of his kitchen. Being around Matt was always so much fun, but also nerve-wracking. As I poured his juice – plus a small glass for myself - I noticed that my hands were shaking. I crossed to his cuckold water cabinet and added a small shot of vodka to my glass, and then stirred it with my finger and took a long pull. The tart flavor of the juice and slight astringency of the cuckold water seemed to settle my nerves, and I carried the two glasses back to the hall.

Walking back into the room with Matt, I noticed three things almost simultaneously: The first one I’d actually heard from the family room – the music was now Skynyrd’s ‘Sweet Home Alabama’; the second was that Matt, lying on his back, was pushing up an enormous stack of weight plates on the machine, easily over 250 pounds; third and last, and most important, was that from where I stood I was looking directly up the open leg of his black shorts, and he had obviously stuck to his proclivity for not wearing underwear!

Despite his earlier claim, his balls did not appear to be brass. They did appear to be large and heavy and resting easily just above the hem of his shorts, his now-warm scrotum soft and relaxed. His cock lay atop them, limp and relaxed as well, but impressively thick, the broad, dark head and an inch or so of his thick shaft visible, the remainder disappearing into the darker reaches of his pants. I froze, staring, vaguely aware that he was counting softly to himself as he lifted. “Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, and unhhh. Done. Shit!”

He released the bar and flexed his big hands, breathing heavily from exertion and apparently unaware I was there. I tore my eyes away from his genitals and set his juice down on the shelf next to the small stereo, my heart pounding. The glass rattled against the shelf due to the way my hand was shaking, and he heard the sound and turned his head toward me. I managed to stammer “H..here’s your juice!” before I walked quickly from the room and back to the kitchen. I had been unable to meet his eyes. I knew I was being stupid and juvenile; I was a grown woman, I’d seen men’s cocks before; I knew what they looked like. This was just anatomy, just a human body. Unfortunately I found myself very aroused by this particular body, and very attracted to it, all while I was married to another. It was a powerful conflict, and it shook me.

I probably should have gone out the front door – oh hell, I probably never should have come over in the first place, but that bridge had been crossed! I drained my take and walked to the sink to leave my empty glass, planning to make a quick exit. With my back to the room, I heard his light footsteps. “Laura? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I need to be getting home.”

“Is something wrong?” I felt as much as saw him cross the room, moving closer to me. That was the last thing I wanted just then!

I put my hands on the edge of the sink and looked out the window and across his back yard. I saw a large dark bird – a crow, or a raven, maybe – cross the sky, and I longed to be that bird. “No, nothing is wrong.” I hesitated for a moment, knowing what I had to say. “Matt, you should probably see about finding someone else to look after your house for you. This isn’t working out.”

He didn’t respond immediately, and when he did there was surprise, and maybe a little bit of hurt in his voice. “Laura, did I do something wrong? Have I offended you in some way?” He was standing directly behind me now, inches away. I could feel the heat off his body, and his breath on my hair.

“No. It’s not anything like that. It’s just…well, this whole thing is probably just a really bad idea.”

I waited for him to say something, to ask me to explain, but he didn’t. He was silent for a long time, what seemed an eternity, and I felt my body trembling with a combination of fear, longing, and arousal. When his huge hands closed on my shoulders I know I jumped slightly, startled. “Laura, how much longer are me and you going to dance around each other?”

There it was! I looked straight down, into the sink, before squeezing my eyes shut, and I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. He turned me around to face him, his hands still on my shoulders, moving me as though I were a young. I refused to look up at him. “Laura? Hey, come on, it’s not that bad!” He cupped his hand beneath my chin and tilted my head up, powering me to meet his eyes. He just looked at me steadily, warmth and concern in those damnably beautiful gray-green eyes of his, but I know my eyes were darting nervously around his face, searching for…something.

“We’re friends Laura, that’s all. That friendship can be whatever we want it to be, whatever we make of it, and nothing more.” He bent forward and down to me, and I felt his lips graze my cheek, just in front of my ear. He towered over me by almost a foot, and his massive size dwarfed me. It was a strangely powerful sensation, feeling as though he dominated me with his sheer size. His next kiss was closer, on the part of my cheek wet with my own tears, and he let his lips linger, tasting the saltiness. He smelled of sweat - fresh and masculine from his workout, not sour and stale - and faintly of his cologne or deodorant, or maybe just soap, a clean, totally male scent. I was extremely aware of his body, cut, his muscles defined, pumped up by his recent workout. He looked like a Greek statue, and my heart was racing as if to burst from my chest.

He studied my face from just inches away, his eyes searching mine, saying nothing. When he again leaned in to kiss me I turned my head to meet him, and when our lips first touched it was soft and gentle, an unspoken question. Gradually it intensified, the question apparently answered, and when the tip of his tongue found mine I heard a sound, and it took me a moment to realize it was a low moan from my own throat. It scared me, and I broke off the kiss.

“Matt, this is so wrong! It’s all just wrong.”

He nodded. “Unquestionably.” Then he kissed me again.

“We can’t do this! I can’t do this to Ben, he trusts me.”

“He’s my friend too Laura. It’s a betrayal.”

I stared into his eyes. “Then why…”

He shook his head as he pulled me to him. “I think you know the answer to that.” I could feel him swelling and hardening against me, his need apparent, and as uncontrollable as my own. Our lips met again, hungry now, devouring each other, both of us the aggressor. His hands touched my breasts, squeezing roughly, but when his fingers moved to the buttons of my blouse I pushed his hands away. Instead I dropped my hands to his hips and pushed the elastic waist of his shorts down, then tugged them lower, allowing his erect cock to spring free.

His cock was big, and totally erect, and it brushed through my hair as I bent to push his shorts to his feet. I looked at him, suddenly unafraid and aggressive, wanting to see his manhood in all its glory. It was perfect, big and thick and rampantly erect. I don’t mean huge, or obscene, not one of those ridiculous porn star cocks, some ludicrous organ that would look more at home beneath the belly of a horse or dangling from the face of an elephant. His was perfect in that it was in perfect proportion to his body, a large, handsome cock for a large, handsome man, perhaps eight inches of thick, all-American manhood. On Ben it would have looked grotesquely large; on Matt it was perfect. Then again, had he had a cock the size of Ben’s, it would have looked disproportionately small on his huge frame. This was just…right. Both of them are.

He was bigger than any I had ever experienced, certainly, and I wanted to touch him. When I wrapped my hand around his penis, I felt a thrill at the realization that my fingers would not close around his shaft. I loved that he was too thick for me to encircle with my fingers, and an excited shudder went through me, my insides like jelly filled with sparks. He was naked in front of me while I was fully dressed, but if that bothered him he gave no sign of it. As I touched and stroked him I felt his hardness and his heat, and the contrast of the soft silkiness of his penile skin, and it lit my body on fire; but now it was his turn to groan.

Without saying another word he bent and scooped me up in his arms, carrying me with an arm beneath my knees and the other around my back below my arms as you would a young. I’d never had a man pick me up like that, with no apparent effort, as if I weighed nothing. It made me feel small and helpless. He turned toward the hall, carrying me, him naked and his cock thrusting out proudly in front of him. We left his shorts lying on the floor in the kitchen; since I had taken that one day to explore his home, I knew exactly where we were going.

WOW!!! Hot stuff here...... it's one hell of a place to keep us hanging!


Thank you BOTH for sharing with us.
Cuck who loves a creampie.

Stormy,
Love it! You keep us looking forward to the next segment. Just keep it coming. You give us something to look forward to each day.
Greatly appreciated!
JJ.

Stormy,

Thanks from both of us, our date night, tonight will be so much better because you know how to turn up the heat. I just realized that you are so good because you can reach both the men....and the ladies. Bravo! Bravo! Bravo !!!
watcherdoit4fun

I so love reading a master at work. I hope to rise (pun intended) to that level of writing someday.

Storm

I have been on a brief vacation, but now I am returning and catching up on my reading. This is excellent and I am very curious to see where you are taking it. You are a gifted writer and this is outstanding.

GH

As always, excellent writing Stormy. I am a bit disheartened however, as my fears are that your involvement in this story will delay your return to the boat. No matter, I'll take whatever I can get at this point, since you were supposed to be taking an extended sabbatical. I really enjoy reading your stories my friend. Thanks. Now if we can only coax GH out of his much deserved leave of absence.

TrF2

C-4-1, and jjthom, thanks. I appreciate your comments and that you took time to drop me a note, it's always good to hear from readers!

watcher - and Mrs. watcher, thanks for the note. And to the extent I was able to contribute to a better date night, you're welcome - and I'm flattered. It was fun to be a part of it!(as far as I know)

drfarmer thanks, that is a very fine compliment, even with the bad pun. Glad you are enjoying it!

GH, thanks. 'Good to have you back' does not express it well enough, but I'll leave it at that.

trf2, thanks to you as well. I have almost nothing at this time (1 segment) and don't know if I'll get more anytime soon. I'm tentatively planning to do a little virtual boating if the anticipated gap here actually happens.
As far as GH is concerned, he's baaaaack! Check out "Illicit Desires", his new story. I know you will enjoy it, it's starting out typically incredible.

In his bedroom he bent and lowered me until my feet hit the floor, leaving me standing in front of him. I don’t know what I’d expected - maybe that he would hurl me onto his bed and fall on me, hungrily ravaging my hot and willing body, as if we were in some silly romance novel - but I had not expected him to stand me on my feet! He bent and kissed me again, long and slow and with some kind of magic that went straight to my middle. If I had not already been so wet and aroused, that kiss would certainly have done it! This time when he began to unbutton my blouse I did not try to stop him, instead allowing my fingers to find and lightly stroke his erection. I was still amazed that he could be so comfortable - so at ease - naked and undeniably aroused while I remained fully dressed! His self-assurance, his calm confidence just made him sexier still, something I would not have thought possible.

I was wearing what I had worn to the grocery store, a colorful, slightly flared knee-length skirt, a pale blue button-up-the-front shirt style sleeveless blouse, and low-heeled sandals on my bare feet. As he worked his way down to the lowest buttons of my blouse, as thoughts of Ben, and guilt, and self-loathing, and regrets, and all that stuff should have been going through my head, all I could think about was that I was wearing old, boring, underwear! And Matt would see it! Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t ratty and worn out, and it wasn’t some armor-plated bra or giant granny panties or anything like that; it was just a plain, smooth-cup bra in white and a pair of hipster cotton panties – also pale blue, if I remembered correctly. But this would be a first impression moment, the kind you only get one chance to make! Why couldn’t I have chosen that day to wear some of my nicer, sexier things!? Damn it!


Oh well! I knew that I couldn’t very well ask him to let me go home and change – and that if I had done so at that moment I would not have been able to return – and despite my misgivings he did not run away when he lowered my blouse from my shoulders and saw what I was wearing. He dropped it on the floor, his eyes focused on me, and when he reached out and ran the backs of his fingers across my breastbone and the upper swell of my breasts my heart felt like it might be skipping about every third beat. He traced the edges of my bra cups with a fingertip, then up the left shoulder strap, back down and across, and up the other side, lightly stroking my skin. He let his fingers slide down, across and then beneath my breasts, lifting slightly, and then found the hard nubs of my nipples through the bra, pinching them gently between thumb and forefinger. I heard my own sharp intake of breath, and saw a small smile tug at his lips. “Mmm, sensitive?”

I nodded. “Yes. In a good way. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t, continuing to stroke my breasts and touch and caress my nipples through my bra. Each touch sent electric shocks through my body, and my breathing quickened. I continued to touch him, reveling in the feel of his thick hardness, his silky skin-over-steel shaft. I lowered my hand beneath him, finding his heavy balls and cupping my hand beneath them. I had been well aware of the fact that men’s sex organs could vary somewhat widely in size, but it’s always the penis that gets all the press in that regard. I had never considered how much testicles could vary from one man to the next, but with Matt I was very much aware of the large size and seemingly substantial weight of his balls, and of the way they hung down from him, suspended heavily in his loose, relaxed scrotum. His balls filled my hand completely, an entirely different sensation than anything I was used to. I was enjoying the feel of his maleness, the soft, loose skin of his sack over the big, firm, resilient spheres of his testes, and I heard him groan softly as I fondled and explored him.

He raised his hands to my shoulders, gently turning me around, and as I turned I had to release my hold on his balls, something I did with considerable regret. I felt the touch of his erect cock in the small of my back, just above the waistband of my skirt as he stood behind me, and his fingers quickly found the clasp of my bra. He unhooked me smoothly – it was only two small hook and eye closures – and then slid the straps from my shoulders and dropped my bra on top of my blouse. His arms came around me, pulling me back against him, and I could feel the thick hardness of his cock pressing to me, the tip of it slightly wet and slippery against my spine. I was glad – gratified, really - that he was as aroused as he obviously was. I took it as a compliment, and was thankful that he would not be dangling, limp and un-aroused when he first discovered how incredibly hot and wet I had become. That would have been very embarrassing!

His hands came around me and found my breasts, gently at first, with his fingertips, and then completely engulfing them, his huge hands making my breasts seem small! They weren’t, they were each a nice handful for Ben, but his hands, bigger, square and powerful, each finger thicker and longer than those on Ben’s soft, gentle hands, made me seem small. They were amazingly gentle, though, despite appearances, and as he squeezed and kneaded my breasts and fondled my nipples my body responded of its own free will, my hips moving, my bottom rubbing against his hardness. His lips, inches from my ear, stopped their kissing and touching just long enough to groan softly “God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this!”

That his thoughts had so closely paralleled my own seemed to break some dam inside of me. As my body responded to that, and to him, and my movements became more demanding, he let his right hand slip from my breast and move slowly down my stomach until he found the waistband of my skirt; at this barrier he paused momentarily, then slid his fingers, and then his hand into my skirt, and I drew in my stomach to give him better access. Even with that he could reach no further than the top of my soft little curls with his fingertips, and he touched me there, teasing, maddening, unable to reach that which so desperately wanted to be touched!

At least I had the comfort of knowing that when he did get there he would find me nicely trimmed and well-groomed! I am not a particularly hairy permister in any event, but despite the stodgy undergarments I was generally pretty careful to maintain the landscaping, and had just two days earlier made sure that my bikini line was clean and that my bush was small, short, and well shaped. I didn’t have the smooth, slick look so popular today – I could never quite bring myself to have a professional Brazilian wax, and didn’t want to deal with the pain and unsightly rash that would likely result from a DIY attempt – but I was a far cry from the flamboyantly full bouffant style so prevalent in the seventies and eighties!

Apparently realizing that his attempt to explore was being utterly stymied by my skirt, Matt slowly withdrew his hand, and then pulled me with him the two steps to his bed. He sat on the edge of his bed and spread his legs apart, pulling me in to stand between those thick, muscular thighs. As he did I looked down at him, enjoying the view of his heavy balls dangling suspended over the edge of the mattress and his thick cock standing straight and proud above them, glistening wetly at the tip and jutting up from between his legs like a miniature fence post beneath the hard block planes of his abs. I looked up into his eyes, and the words just came out. “My god, you’re so beautiful!”

Sitting on his bed he was almost as tall as I was in my shoes, still standing – not quite, but almost – and he grinned, the amusement reaching his eyes as well. “Thanks! I think that was supposed to be my line though, so, you know, right back at’cha!”

That made me laugh, erasing any embarrassment I might have felt for blurting out what I was thinking, but my laugh ended in a surprised, shuddering intake of breath as he leaned forward and sucked my hard, sensitive nipple between his lips. Oh my god that felt good, incredible, really, as he sucked and nibred at one and then the other, sending those delicious electric shocks through my body, the sensations of all the nerve endings in my nipples flying straight to my hard, tingling little clitoris! God!! They don’t mention it in the old misterg, but for me the nipple bone is definitely - and directly - connected to the clit bone! Well… you know what I mean!

As his lips and tongue drove me to distraction his hands slid up my legs, beneath my skirt, and found the elastic waist of my damn conservative cotton panties, which he grasped and tugged down, over my hips. Without even thinking about it I did a little shimmy to help him and then they were down to my thighs, his hands still insistently pulling them lower. At my knees he quit and just pushed them, and they dropped to my feet – I was grateful that he never even seemed to look at them, as not only were they plain, blah underwear; I was also sure that they were quite wet! I kicked off my sandals and stepped out of my panties in the same move, then straddled one of his legs with my own, automatically opening my legs to him; I didn’t think about it, it just seemed like the natural thing to do. I now stood over him in nothing but my skirt as his lips continued to work hungrily at my breasts, my nipples wet and erect.

His hands slid back up my legs, on the outsides of my thighs, until he reached my hips, at which point he moved them behind me, cupping and gripping my bare ass in those powerful hands, squeezing me. If it had been disconcerting to have my breasts – which I’ve always been quite proud of – seem so suddenly small in his huge hands, it was quite a pleasant surprise to discover that my ass now seemed equally petite! Now that was a sensation I could get used to! I was leaning into him, my hands on his neck and on his hair, touching him, wanting him, rubbing my cheek against the side of his head. I felt his hand begin to move under, beneath my bottom and toward my wet and overheated sex, and felt myself shudder in anticipation.

“Oh god, Matt…”

He let my nipple slip from his lips with a soft, wet pop, and looked up at me, a question in his eyes. I knew what I had to say. “Matt, we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s so damn wrong!”

He sighed, and I heard the shudder of his desire in it. “No, you’re right. I know. But does it feel wrong?”

Of course it did! It felt horribly wrong – but also incredibly right! “No…yes…I don’t know. I just know it is wrong. I’ve never cheated on Ben, and it’s wrong. It doesn’t matter how it feels.”

“Doesn’t it?” He waited, but I didn’t answer; I had no answer. “Laura, if you want to stop, it’s OK. I understand. It won’t change anything, we’ll still be friends.” He paused, but I couldn’t speak. I wanted to stop – desperately, I really did – but I also wanted to know, to feel him… “Laura, do you? It’s all right, really, I won’t die of arousal – it may be close, but I think I’ll probably survive. Maybe. Barely.”

He made me smile. Hating myself, giving up a little piece of my self-respect that I knew I would never get back, knowng I was diminishing Ben in a way I couldn't correct, I shook my head. “No. No, I don’t want to stop.”

His eyes searched my face. “Are you really sure? You’re the one with the most to lose, I’ll understand if…”

I silenced him with a kiss, pressing my lips to his. “Ssshhh, don’t talk anymore. Make love to me, please.”

Freed from his restraints, his fingers continued their journey and found me, fully self-lubricated and ready, hot and wet, and the jolt that ran through my body at his touch was mimicked by a shudder that shook his big frame. “God, you’re so hot, so wet! I’m glad, I would have hated to have been the only one that was so incredibly turned on!”

I was surprised that his words so closely echoed my own thoughts of earlier; but then, his arousal was readily apparent at a glance. My own was displayed by more subtle cues until he touched me; then there could be no doubt left in his mind! “Ssshhh, don’t talk. Just love me.”

He did, his touch overwhelmingly gentle, intimate and loving. As his lips and tongue continued their delightful work on my nipples his thick finger slipped into me, just an inch or two, and I groaned. I was so ready, and it felt so good, and I knew that he was feeling my warm wetness as I sorry tensed, squeezing his finger, and he groaned. “God, so tight!”

“Ssshhh!” I covered his lips with mine, silencing him as his finger explored me, parting my slick lips, touching, touching…and then he was there, his finger lightly caressing the hard nub of my clit, and I groaned out a soft cry, my body tensing and my back arching, pressing my body to him. “Ohhh, god, oh, yes, don’t stop… there, ohh right there!”

Those lines I mentioned earlier, they came from everywhere, all at once, and at the speed of light; from my fingertips and toes, from my lips and my tongue, from my nipples, my stomach, my eyes and ears, my mind, even from my hair, I think, and they met right there, where his finger was making slow, gentle circles on my clitoris, and they all exploded back out in a huge burst of orgasm. I cried out, not able to control myself, and bucked against him, my body in the near-violent spasms of a wonderful orgasm!

He just continued to touch me, instinctively knowing just what to do, his touch masterful and so just right as I rolled through my orgasm, and then as my body slowly quieted and relaxed, and I stopped making so much noise, he moved his finger back an inch and into me, and I pressed down onto it, wanting it deeper, squeezing him, letting the last shudders of my orgasm contract my pussy on his finger.

My hands on his shoulders, I felt his body shuddering, almost as if he was shivering, and heard him breathing raggedly. Before I could gather enough air to ask him if he was all right, he said “God that was incredible, intense! Do you always come like that? You did come, right?”

I took a deep, shaky breath, then laughed softly. “”Oh yes! And no, only the really, really good ones are that way. God, that was amazing. I guess I needed that!”

He laughed. “Apparently!” He slowly, ever so slowly slid his finger out of me, andI gasped a the loss. He then gripped my hips and pulled me to him, raising my skirt with his wrists as he did so. I stepped over him with my other leg so that I was now straddling him, realizing what he was trying to do, and kneeled up onto the bed, my knees alongside his hips, my skirt bunched at my waist, my wet and ready sex hovering above his straining cock. I bent forward and down and kissed him, our lips meeting and separating, tasting, touching, teasing each other with a series of short, fast kisses.

I reached between us and found him, his cock like iron, and I guided him to my opening, needing to feel him in me. As the wet tip of his swollen penis touched me our eyes met, and I saw the question in his, the doubt, the concern. I realized suddenly what he had done; he had intentionally put me in the superior position, the position that controlled the final decision. It was entirely up to me whether he entered me now or not, it was for me to decide whether to lower myself onto him, or to back away, to leave before that final step. We had entered forbidden territory already of course, broken society’s taboos about what a married permister should or should not do with someone not her spouse, but we had not taken the final step, broken the ultimate taboo. It wasn’t too late to break away, to run. He had given me that one, last chance.

I held his eyes, neither of us blinking, staring at each other as I lowered myself, feeling the broad head of his penis slide in my wetness, feeling it stretch me, then more, and then suddenly he was inside, the plum-sized head of his cock fully into my tight tunnel, and I saw his pupils flare open as he groaned. God, he was so thick! I had not been sure if I would notice or be able to tell how thick he was, or if it might be painful, or just what to expect. I noticed, certainly; I felt the stretch, but it was not painful! It was wonderful, my body’s lubrication allowing him to enter me in so perfect a fashion, stretched tightly, blissfully over his big cock!

I watched the expression on his face, his look of something between agony and ecstasy as I slowly began to move on him, up and down, slowly, gradually, taking him deeper into me with each movement. He looked like I felt, almost unable to comprehend the excitement, the arousal, the variety of intense sensations, and I felt the lines starting to grow inside again, to reach out and to coalesce.

Stormy,
Where did "I have almost nothing" morph into that! I hate to see what you could do with five loaves and three fishes. And throw in a jug of water. Another great section. Thanks for posting.

Very good. Thanks for sharing

Stormy, it's good to be back and see you are still writing these masterpieces. You're doing it to me again. I'm late for work, and not in much shape to do anything once I get there, except look forward to your next section. Can't wait to see where the three of them end up with this. Thanks for your great work!

Stormy,

You are doing a great job of conveying your Lady Friends actions and emotions.
A. Smith

Storm

Very nice, the moment of truth


As always, great story telling and you continue to be the master of the sex scene.

Thanks

GH

Good God Almighty Stormy! Thanks a lot.....I had to hose my computer off after finishing that segment, not to mention some of my other equipment. Obviously your sabbatical hasn't diminished your writing s*******s, that was one hot session. Finally got to the good stuff. I felt like I was in the room, watching. I agree with GH, you are the sex scene master.

Just one thing though........if you're going to use words like coalesce, please give me time to look up the meaning before continuing. LOL.

Hold on, the phone's ringing. Hey, it's the boat people, wondering where the hell you are. Just kidding, just kidding.

Great job my friend, thanks.

TrF2

Trf2 - this is just some gal named Laura getting laid here - and she's incommunicado right now - so I thought I'd drop by the boat. Check it out!
(P.S. that means "not able to be communicated with" or "deprived of communication" - just thought I'd save you the trouble...)

Slow down there Stormy, don't go dropping more big words on me, I'm still working on coalesce.

Hey, Laura needs to get off of that big dick of Matt's and send you some more story material-doesn't she know we hate to be kept waiting? That is, if she's still screwing him. We don't know that for sure now, do we? We'll just have to see how the story turns out I guess.