A Birthday Affair

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Forgotten wife celebrates her birthday with a friend.
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Jenna Grey
Jenna Grey
53 Followers

She checked her reflection in the mirror and with an amused sigh she noted the faint greying of hair near her temples. Turning 40, her closest of girl friends had promised, would be the best thing that ever happened to her.

The big day was a week away and for some reason, despite the grey hairs, despite the new need to wear reading glasses, despite the extra pains she had begun taking at night to preserve what youthfulness she could, Kathleen was excited.

With forty came a sense of abandonment. A sense of silent permission to go ahead and do the things she always wanted to do. Say the things she always wanted to say. Try the things she always wanted to try.

Her whole adult life had been lived serving others. She had put her husband through college, working nights and taking care of the babies during the day so he could sleep and study. After he graduated and started his own business, Kathleen stayed home and played the good wife and mother. Cooking, cleaning, nurturing. Soccer mom, PTA mom. Leslie’s mom. Lucas’ mom. Peter’s wife.

It was as if she didn’t exist on her own. By her mid-30’s Kathleen decided she needed to find herself. The kids were in high school. She wasn’t needed at home during the day much anymore. No more hot cocoa and cookies after school. No more driving to ballet lessons, piano lessons, soccer practice. The kids rode their bikes, then hitched rides with friends. And then before she knew it, they were driving themselves. Locally of course, but still. She wasn’t needed.

It was then she began reaching out to the community. Soup kitchens, Cancer society, local political campaigns. This was how she met Derek.

Derek. Derek was everything Peter was not. He was quiet and unassuming, although confident to the point of slightly arrogant. He had a subtle sense of humor. He had pursued his dreams. Peter had pursued his goals. There is a difference, Kathleen learned as her friendship with Derek flourished. Dreams were born of the soul. Goals were based on tangible motivation.

Not that Kathleen didn’t love Peter. He was her life partner, the father of her children. Her protector. Their life together had just grown a bit boring. Everything they did was structured and on schedule. Even sex, which was penned in for Tuesday and Friday nights, had grown a bit predictable. But at least she was getting it regularly, which was a surprise according to her girlfriends.

While this news about her sex life made her feel a bit better, one fact left her a bit concerned. Where Peter made her feel comfortable and safe and wanted, Derek made Kathleen feel sexy, smart and, well...desired.

Kathleen realized this one night after volunteering to serve a spaghetti supper at the soup kitchen. It wasn’t just any night. It was her birthday. And she was alone. Her birthday hadn’t been forgotten, just untimely. So her party wasn’t scheduled until the following Saturday. Nevertheless, she felt dejected, forgotten, and worked hard to push those silly thoughts out of her mind. It was just a birthday, for goodness sakes!

Throughout the night Kathleen caught Derek time and again watching her openly. She would toss him a grin as she tossed a buttered roll on a patron’s plastic food tray. He, in return, would serve her a soft, sensuous smile that was steamier than the green beans and carrots he was ladling out. She felt her insides melt like the butter flavored artificial spread laying in a vat before her.

Afterwards, she and Derek had opted for a cup of coffee at the diner down the road since Kathleen did not want to go home to an empty house. Both of her kids were going to a concert and then staying at their cousins’ house and Peter was on yet another business trip.

Kathleen and Derek chatted amicably over a cup of coffee and three or four refills, leaving them both wide awake well after midnight. No topic was left untouched. None.

Derek, Kathleen learned, was older than she was by almost a decade. No wonder he left her feeling naive and innocent. He had a way of looking straight into her grey eyes and without so much as a flinch, asking her a question that made her blush from her toes up to her ears. And it was only when she would fidget with a napkin or her teaspoon or choke as she sputtered a sip of coffee, did he show any emotion at all. Usually it was amusement.

It was near the end of that evening that Derek leaned over the emptied coffee cups and focused his baby blues on her face. With a soft smile he lifted a hand to tuck a whisp of stray brown hair behind her left ear before saying a word.

“I can make you feel so good, Kathleen.”

Her lips parted but no sound came out. She inhaled deeply and cast her gaze down at his hands as he reached over to grab her own. Licking her lips, she sneaked a glance at him through her lowered lashes, her cheeks warm and her lips pursed. God, how she wanted him to kiss her. With that thought she attempted to pull her hands away, but his grip grew tighter and his smile grew wider.

“So. Tell me. What are you afraid of?”

Her cheeks grew hotter, she squirmed in her seat and she found she was unable to lift her gaze to his. “Us.” She whispered softly, studying her wedding band. “Us.”

With that he threw a crisp bill on the table and led her towards the door. While they walked through the streets towards her neatly trimmed, well manicured and maintained home, he kept his hold on her hand, his thumb gently caressing the soft cup palm in soothing, pulsing rhythm.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she offered tentatively.

“Neither do I.”

“I might chicken out.”

“Me, too.”

“It might ruin our friendship.”

“I doubt it.”

By the time they reached Kathleen’s front porch Derek had gained some hold on sanity. “Are you sure no one is coming home tonight?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure you want to do this. You can still say no.” He glanced at the door that stood before them, the threshold of no turning back.

Silence loomed heavily in the next few seconds it took her to summon her courage and acquiesce. The slightest of nods was the only indication she offered as she attempted to unlock the doorway to her home.

The house key suddenly seemed to large for the lock, and as she fumbled with it, swearing softly under her breath, Derek came up from behind Kathleen and wrapped his arms around her. He whispered in her ear, nibbling softly on her lobe, soothing her frantic gestures with a tender kiss.

“That isn’t helping!” she snapped, dropping her keys.

He chuckled, and bent down, retrieving the key ring in a graceful swoop. “Allow me.”

He inserted the key with ease, turned it and the door swung open with a quick twist of the knob. He was in. She followed behind.

With the door closed and locked behind her, Kathleen slipped off her shoes in benumbed silence and set them in the foyer. Derek followed suit. Kathleen padded across the tiled floor into the lounge area and Derek again followed her cue. She flipped on the lights as she went, and he followed after her, clicking them off or lowering them, depending on the type of switch.

The result was Kathleen making a circular trek, turning the lights back on that he had just extinguished. He took pause in the center of the room, arms folded across his chest, and grinned as he watched her go. “For someone so nervous, I would think the dimmer the lighting, the better.”

“I’m not nervous.”

He burst out laughing with that comment, causing Kathleen to grin finally. “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

The space between them was soon eroded away as he took two long strides towards her. He cupped her chin in his smooth, tanned hand, and held her gaze. “Are you sure you want to do this?” His whisper was barely audible. She nodded silently.

“Then say it. Tell me what you want, Kathleen. I want to hear the words.” His lips brushed hers in the briefest of kisses. His nose nuzzled hers as he waited for her to collect her thoughts.

“I... I ...” God. What did she want?

“Yes?” He asked this before capturing her parted lips in a firm, telling kiss.

“I..I.. want...” her words came breathlessly, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to convey the emotions he stirred within her.

“Mmmmm......” His kiss deepened, his tongue plunging between her lips now, parting them, invading her mouth, taking what little breath she had summoned. “Tell me you want me.”

“Oh, Derek. I do. I do want you.” She wrapped her arms around him and he pulled her close, his hard embrace pulling her body into his. They molded together, soft blending into hardness, curve molding into contour. The two joined in passion.

His kiss consumed her, told her how beautiful she was, how desirable she was, how badly he wanted to claim her as his, if only for this night. His hands possessed her, learning every tuck, every dimple, every ripple, every muscle her body offered. He played his fingers down her spine, the valley giving way to the small of her back, a garden for his fingertips to caressingly explore.

She came alive beneath his attentions, her hips undulating against him in a primal dance. For so long she had ignored the music of her soul, turned a deaf ear to the song her body longed to sing. Tonight she was a soliloquy and he was a melody, and their music was timeless, as ageless as the Universe.

She shivered as his hands tugged at the soft silk of her blouse tucked into her cashmere slacks. She trembled with the first feel of the power emanating from his knowing fingertips as his hands molded around her waist, waking her needs, her desire with a simple touch. He slipped lower to cup the firm curve of her ass and pulled her against his hardness before he began his exploration once again.

He nudged a thick, muscular leg between her soft thighs, pressing against her heat and she moaned softly, wanting so much more. Her arms came up around his shoulders, and her hands tangled in his hair as she kissed him deeply, devouring him hungrily.

They continued to kiss as he led her to the sofa, a cream colored, soft Italian leather lounge that felt cool to the touch as he eased her gently down beside him. Then, for the first time in decades, Kathleen made out. This was not your average, kiss-her-for-the-required-amount-of-time- so-you-can-slam-the-salami home kind of kiss. No. This was the hot and heavy, climb into the backseat, fog up the windows heavy petting session you’d find yourself caught up in at 17while parking down at the marina on a Saturday night.

Oh my God, she wanted him so badly. She cried out softly as his hand slid beneath her blouse and cupped her breast through the silky, lace bra. A deep guttural groan sounded, and Kathleen wasn’t sure who it came from. She writhed beneath him, her body on fire, melting as he trailed his fingertips over her breasts, down her belly, to play with the waist band where it met her alabaster flesh. When his hand slipped lower, to cup her between her legs where the ache was so strong she felt as though she would die if he didn’t touch her, she cried out his name and squeezed her thighs together.

He nibbled her lips, he rained soft, light kisses on her cheek, her jawbone, her neck, her shoulder, the soft flesh where the meat of her breast begins. He nuzzled his stubbled jaw against her tender skin and it turned her on so much that she pulled his face into the vale where her breasts came together. He buried his face between the soft white mounds of flesh and licked and sucked her skin, leaving light love marks on her pale skin.

Inhaling sharply her sweet scent, Derek growled a fierce kind of sound, unable to prolong the moment any longer. He slipped his hand upwards and unfastened the clasp at the waistband, tugged lightly at the zipper and the constricting clothes until they puddled around her ankles. He then slipped his hand beneath the thin cotton fabric of her panties, massaging her mons.

“Oh, God, Kathleen. You feel so beautiful.” He slipped his middle finger over her clit, caressing lightly the hardening bud before parting through the sparse hair covering her pussy. She was moist and hot, and his finger slipped easily inside of her. She bit lightly on his shoulder, through the cotton of his shirt, as she fought the tiniest wave of unexpected pleasure ripple softly through her.

“Relax,” he directed, kissing the top of her head as he slipped a second finger inside of her, pumping lightly, moving his hand so that he beckoned her with a “come hither” action that rubbed that perfect spot and made her moan loudly and bite a bit harder.

“Oh, geeez, Derek. Don’t stop.” Kathleen humped his hand as he kissed her deeply. “I need you. God, I need you.”

His thumb pressed the base of her clit, working it gently as his fingers slipped inside her hot, juicy puss. “Come for me, Kat. Come on, babe,” he directed softly as he teased her nipple with gentle bites through her blouse and bra.

His words brought her over the edge, and she cried out in an ecstasy she had long forgotten she could feel, flooding his hand with her come. Her body shook with the intensity of an orgasm she had not felt in years. He continued working her with his one hand while his other hand squeezed her breast and she arched into him, feeling her climax build again immediately. “Ohhh, nooo. Derek, again! Don’t stop.”

He pumped harder and faster, palming her clit as he slipped a third finger inside of her, coaxing another orgasm. Her body shuddered as she came again, and she clutched him to her for dear life, her face buried in the strong curve of his neck where it joined his shoulder.

Looking at her laying there sprawled on her sofa, Derek smiled and moved away from her. In seconds his pants lay on the arm of a nearby easy chair, his shirt folded and placed next to his slacks. His boxers came off next, his socks, methodically as he contemplated how wonderful it was going to be slipping inside of this beautiful woman.

With a dreamy, dazed look, Kathleen glanced up at her lover and returned the smile as she watched him undress. She took in his nakedness as if it were the most normal sight in the world. She took in his hardness and held her breath for a moment, the reality of what she was about to do marring the moment, briefly.

Moments later Derek’s body lay covering Kathleen, her legs wrapped around his thighs and tucked between his legs. His hardness pressed against her softness, and she bit her lip as he slipped inside of her ever so tentatively. She gasped as the head of his hard-on penetrated her, as she murmured softly to him. “Oh myyyyyyy,” she whispered as his shaft slid easily inside of her tight, slick pussy.

He groaned and kissed the top of her head as he eased himself into her slowly. “You feel so good,” he crooned, swallowing thickly. When he felt he could go no further he exhaled and then revelled in the heat surrounding his cock.

“So do you,” Kathleen murmured breathlessly. “So full. So thick. Come on, Derek.”

“Tell me.” He raised up slightly and studied her face as she crimsoned beneath his gaze. Slowly he pulled out of her, then slipped deep inside. Again, slowly out, ever so slowly he penetrated her again.

Whispering incoherently, Kathleen tossed her head from side to side. “Pleeease,” she pleaded.

With an increase in tempo, Derek began to fuck her in earnest. His cock slid home, filling her as she thrust her hips up to meet him. She continued to match his tempo, rising and thrusting upwards to ensure that he came into her as deeply as he possibly could.

“Tell me, Kat. Tell me,” his command became almost singsong as he prompted her to direct him.

“Oh, god. Oh, Derek. Oh. Oh.” Kathleen could not bring herself to say the words he wanted to hear. Her pleasure crescendoed and she felt the itching throb of another orgasm nearing. She clenched her legs tighter around him and cried out.

“Say it, Kat. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Say it!” He held back, not giving her what she needed to come, growling as he fought for control of his own release.

“Oh Derek. Fuck me, please!” Kathleen screamed as she grabbed his hard ass and dug her nails into his cheeks urging him deeper and deeper. He fucked her then, as she had never been fucked before.

When they came they came together, she raking her nails down his back, he kissing her so deeply and hard that he broke the skin on her lower lip and tasted blood. He pumped and thrust back, shooting his hot stream of come deep inside of her, filling her.


Afterwards she wept, from the sheer intensity of it all, and he kissed her tears and told her how beautiful she was.

Looking up at him she smiled, mascara smudging around her eyes in wet clumps. “You were much better than a birthday cake,” she said softly.

He kissed her pouty grin and stated matter of factly, “Just wait ‘til you taste my frosting.”

-the end-

Jenna Grey
Jenna Grey
53 Followers
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21 Comments
Jenna GreyJenna Greyabout 9 years agoAuthor
Thank you for ALL of your feedback!

I want to say thank you to the readers who defended me for writing this story, I'm honored and humbled at your support.

To all of those who were enraged and incensed, I want to thank you also for your input. This was a purely fictional story, and to elicit such emotion from you tells me that my character and story felt real. And that is what I aim for when writing.

I apologize to anyone who was offended by this story, whether it is because it hits too close to home, or defines a dark desire you do not want to admit or address.

Live out your fantasies here and you will not have to become the person you would hate to become.

All the best,

Jenna

AnonymousAnonymousabout 9 years ago
Very good story; some humorous commentators

The humourous image of five or ten outraged lascivious readers furiously ranting about the very realistic and understandable and oft-occuring actions of this nice imaginary (?) woman really made me smile.

This was a very good and, as I said, realistic story about something that happens all the time to many normal, decent women (and men) and virtually never does any harm. And leaves happy memories.

Wish I knew the heroine.

Just a suggestion - perhaps the negative commentators could shift their vitriolic focus to one or more of our non-performing politicians.

I'll look for more from Jenna Grey.

Northstar

AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
Wow! Great story btw...

So, first, I have to say how appauled I am at many of these comments. This is a, STORY. Whether it be true or not, it was well written. If you don't like the prospect of cheating or affairs and can't be mature about critiquing someones creative right, then just move along. It's quite simple. The anger that some of you men portrayed in words is actually upsetting, way more than the idea of cheating. Tell me, if it were some hot steamy affair the husband had out on his business trip, would you feel differently? A woman is a slut and a bitch for wanting to feel wanted but a lovely man is acceptable fulfilling a need?

I'm sorry, but this is the first story I've read on this site as I just signed up and after reading the very rude and distasteful comments and reactions to this story, I don't know that I want to post any of my stories or poems. Married or not, we all have desires and imaginations and that is what writing is about; creatively putting into words our creative thoughts.... Erotica. Don't judge the writer for the content you didn't like. It was very clear from the beginning this woman was going to "fuck" someone else, so you could have simply moved on.

I feel sorry for this author because of the horrible distasteful criticism.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 16 years ago
emotional needs

I, for one, am amazed at the vast variety of emotionally-charged comments this story has generated. I am also astounded that so many people do not get the idea that the "affair" in the story was in response to the woman's need to be seen, heard, and loved, not fucked. So many men, unfortunately, do not understand how these things are not just of importance to a healthy woman, they are vital. And when they are missing.... well, I'm not saying I agree with extra-marital sex...

Besides, would any reader have had such a strong emotional response to a story about how the wife who's feeling forgotten demanded her husband cut his workweek to 40 hours so they could go to marriage counseling, then after a few years managed to get some spark back into their sex life? I think not.

SappholoversSappholoversover 19 years ago
When I talk, he looks me in the eye and listens

I found this story to be very compelling for both its style and its storyline. A woman did a study of women who have affairs and why they do it...with a focus on what they find most attractive about the man with whom they are having an affair. Time and again, she found women giving the same explanation: "When I talked, he looked me in the eye and listening." Could this be part of the answer about what women truly want? When men and women converse, 80% of the interruptions are done by the man (another study by a sociolinguist). So I like how this story gives flesh to these statistics: Derek knows how to listen and give care and attention to the woman with his eyes and his mind as well as with his cock. Indeed, his capacity for sustained care and listening is more important than his size and stamina. What I also find so true about this story is the sexiness of women over forty or in middle age--the time when they become more free of the cultural script that makes their primary role when younger to be that of a mother or a wife helping her man in his career. At this age, some women may put their sexual selves aside, but others embrace it with rediscovered joy and passion...as never in their lives have they been more independent and powerful and wise about love and life and erotic play and what they are looking for

in a man--both inside and outside the bedroom. With all things being equal, in terms of power and safety, I daresay many women are no more monogamous than men, and they can--and should--do something for themselves, embracing life and their sexuality with abandon and zest. Let the man tone deaf to the needs and desires of his wife beware. Let the woman desirous to experience again the magic and mystery of sex be encouraged by this wonderful, bold, beautifully written story.

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