I remembered someone telling me that a lack of foreplay was like trying to go down a waterslide with no water on it but, I also remembered my boss telling me that the customer was always right. So we both crawled across the top of that huge bed until we were in the centre of it and, as she guided me into place on top of her and her hand directed my cock to her entrance, I realised that the waterslide was fully operational. I could feel her wetness and the wonderful warmth of her body as I began to ease myself forward and down but, at first, there seemed to be some degree of resistance to my progress.
"It's alright, Arthur," she whispered, "just take it slowly... I'm not really used to... oh, YES!" she yelled loudly as the swollen head of my erection found its way through the tallowed gateway of her lips, and on into the clamping warmth of her body. "Oh... yes, Arthur! Slowly... slowly... that's it... oh, my god... yes!" as I carefully pressed further into her warm and clinging tunnel, feeling as if every nerve in my body was electrified until, at last, I was buried as deeply inside her as I could hope to be.
Her arms had tightened around me fiercely and I became aware that she'd lifted her legs so that her heels were digging into the backs of my thighs. Supported on one arm, I kissed her mouth and her face while my free hand moulded her breast and teased her hardened nipple – and all the time she was gasping and moaning, almost crying with pleasure and groaning 'yes,' over and over again while I didn't even dare to move. I knew that, already almost overwhelmed with the sensations, I couldn't possibly hold back for very long, but I wanted, so desperately, to make it good for her.
It was no more than a few seconds though, when, to my complete and delighted wonderment, she suddenly arched her back, shuddered so fiercely that I momentarily feared I was going to be hurtled from her, and howled like a frightened animal as a hot wetness seemed to flood against my groin.
To be perfectly honest, I had only ever read about female orgasms; the impatience and inexperience of youth had denied me the opportunity to cause one with my previous partners – so it was something that took me completely by surprise and filled me with the most glorious feeling of sensuous achievement that I'd ever known. For a few seconds, the clamping of her insides totally prevented me from moving at all but then, between gasping sobs of breath, she briefly kissed me on the mouth and then, tightening the hold of her arms and legs, managed to gasp:
"Go on, Arthur! Just do it, now! Fuck me! Pound me with your 'big Jessie,' Arthur! Don't hold back... just fuck me and cum in me!"
And that is exactly what I did. I managed maybe a dozen strokes or so, certainly no more than that, before I began to explode inside her. I don't, of course, know what it looked like – but I remember seeing someone drop a 'Mentos' in a bottle of Coke one time – and that, believe me is what it felt like was happening! It was the kind of eruption that even my experienced right hand could never have produced – and it seemed to go on and on as the magnificent Emma Cook bucked and squirmed beneath me, trying to milk every last drop from my tingling body!
Even when the spasms finally died away, we stayed as we were – locked in a fierce embrace – not daring to move and not wanting to end that moment.
Eventually, I felt her legs slip down onto the bedcover and her arms slowly began to release their grip on me. Carefully, I eased myself down beside her, not knowing what to say or do, but feeling that I'd just been granted a glimpse of paradise. For a minute or two I was content just to wait for her to recover her breath, to watch the rise and fall of her lovely breasts, and then she turned towards me and she gave a surprisingly shy smile.
"That was wonderful, Arthur... that really was. Thank you... thank you so much!" and she leaned over to give me a gentle kiss. I felt myself begin to respond almost immediately but she laughed and said; "Whoa, there! That's enough for now! I'm not as young as you, y'know!"
"That was amazing Mrs... Emma," I told her, "You are just incredible!" And then a thought occurred to me and, with the brashness of youth, I had to voice it. "That story you were writing... errm...."
"Oh, God... yes!" she laughed, "You're right... in a way. That's partly what this was about. But you'd better let me explain... please?"
I nodded, a little bit uncertainly and with some deflation of my rampant ego, but she said:
"What you read in that story is true. My husband has been pestering me for years to do something like this, but I never have... until now. And then he wants me to tell him all about it."
"And will you... tell him, I mean?" I asked, beginning to feel very uncertain.
"No... I won't," she replied, "because he doesn't deserve it. But he will read about it... eventually."
She saw my puzzled look and it made her give a brief laugh before she said:
"The thing is... my husband is practically addicted to an Internet site called Literotica. Have you heard of it?" When I nodded (it was one I'd visited a number of times), she went on:
"In particular, he reads the stories in the section called 'Loving Wives.' He loves all those stories about women who cheat on their husbands and... don't ask me how I know... he masturbates to them... constantly. But... and it's a big 'but' ...he's jealous of the people who write them. You see, they appear to be getting what he wants the most... and he hates them for it!
"Therefore, when he's finished reading, he always posts a comment... anonymously, most of the time... saying that he hates cuckolds... and describing the kinds of punishment he thinks the wives should have to endure. And as if that's not enough, he then gives the story one star out of a possible five!"
"Yes, I know," she sighed, "he's a very sad man. He'll be home tonight and he'll be straight onto the computer to flame a few stories. You know when I went out for some milk earlier?"
The change of direction caught me on the hop a bit, so all I could do was nod.
"Well... I didn't actually need to. There was plenty of milk in the fridge. It was just that I'd looked at you, Arthur... and I suddenly thought that... well, maybe I'd found someone that I could satisfy my husband's craving with.
"I'm sorry... that sounds so cold and calculating, doesn't it? Please don't take it the wrong way. I just needed space for a few minutes to sort things out in my head... that's really why I nipped out. Anyway, by the time I returned I'd decided that I wasn't going to do it... that I wasn't going to do something like that just to satisfy his perversion.
"But when I came back and saw you reading the story I'd started... well, it changed everything, somehow! I mean, I'll admit I was still thinking about the fantasy when I brought you up here but... to be even more honest... you made me forget about that very quickly. I didn't do this for my husband, Arthur... I did this for me! And it was marvellous... I've never felt like that before... and I've never reached a climax like that before, either!"
"Wow!" I muttered, not knowing what else to say, really.
"I realise that you probably feel a bit 'used,' Arthur... I'm sorry about that... and I quite understand that you'll probably never want to see me again, but...."
"No!" I almost shouted, "That isn't true at all! I think you're fantastic Emma... honestly! And I'd love to...."
"Don't you have a girlfriend at the moment?" she teased and, when I didn't reply, she went on, "Well... if you mean it... my husband's home for the next couple of days, but he's away on Friday and he won't be back before Monday... he's a long-distance lorry driver; he works for my father's firm and he's off to Rumania... so...."
"Can I see you on Friday night, then," I asked eagerly, then, "and Saturday... and...."
"If you've nothing better to do, Arthur... you can stay for the weekend," she smiled, then turning serious again, she went on, "but there's a condition."
I waited, wondering what it was but determined to agree anyway.
"We are not in love with each other... and we're not going to fall in love. Believe it or not, I love my husband. I can't explain it and I'm sure you wouldn't understand if I tried. But the fact is that, although he's a bit of a slob... and he probably wouldn't even have a job if my father didn't employ him... he's the man I want to grow old with.
"No... this is about sex, Arthur... it's about having fun. The age difference is much too great for anything else. No... don't argue," she said, seeing that I was making to interrupt, "I'll have the pleasure and the excitement that your young body... and 'big Jessie' in particular, can give me. You'll have the chance to learn and develop your skills as a lover so that, when you do meet your 'someone special,' you'll be able to please them the way you want to. I'm going to be your very own 'Mrs Robinson,' if you know what I mean?"
We kissed and cuddled a little more until, finally, she said; "I think it's time you were getting back to work... they'll be thinking I've kidnapped you! Anyway, I need to clean up and remove any evidence before my husband gets home."
I pulled my clothes back on and then, after confirming that I'd be back on Friday night, I had to ask:
"So what will you do with the story?"
She looked thoughtful for a moment (and very tempting because she was still naked and getting ready to go for a shower), then she told me:
"Firstly... I'm going to change the last line I wrote... the one about the 'day the car broke down.' That's going to be 'the day the dripping tap in the bathroom finally became too much to bear!" She giggled, and said, "Then I'm going to finish it and send it to Literotica. No one will know who the author is... or who her lover is. Then I'll wait and see what comments it gets. I know... I know as sure as night follows day... that my husband will give it one star and post an anonymous comment. In fact, he may even use his pseudonym to post an extra one if I make it good enough! But I know his style... I'll know which is his!" And she laughed and headed for the bathroom, saying; "Who knows... there may even be a second chapter after the weekend!"
Later, when I returned to the yard, one of my worst tormentors was waiting to tease me about taking so long to fix a tap washer.
I didn't care.
And even when he called me a 'Big Jessie,' it really didn't bother me at all.