More Grateful Feelings

A Note to the reader: If you are looking for fidelity eroticism, this is not it. It is a niche category which is not an 'erotic family value' category. Sorry if it offends you. There are other kinds of stories out there.

*

Our journey with each other is truly amazing; I cannot thank you enough. I was sitting in a meeting at work and my cell phone vibrated. I looked at it and saw the following words, "Can I have time with you soon?"

The feelings when I got her message are hard to describe. I was aroused as much by it as anything I have encountered. It also made me swell with pride, like a father who has just seen his child come into the world.

We had gone from not knowing each other several days earlier, to an anticipated racy encounter, to something new for you and her. Your beautiful wife and you had made love to express that tenderness to each other and to bring you pleasure. Now, you were learning that she loved you and felt tenderness for you, but that I held a key that would complete your marriage. I held the key to her pleasure.

So I waited for a break, then texted a response. "I am your man, so my time is yours." Then, nothing.

I wanted her to read that text and let it be what she needed it to be. I wanted her to read that text and let it be what you would need it to be. For your ultimate fulfillment as a couple, for her pleasure, for your pleasure, she would have a husband and a man. That was our first time to have that message shared, but the depth of its meaning in your sexual orientation, and hers, and what it meant about your marital practice of love, would only come later.

Soon, she handed you her cell and you called. Soon, we would come to understand that she would take charge of her pleasure, and your last call on her behalf happened during that exchange.

Then, there we were again, in your bedroom, still learning how to work out these new feelings, these new lusts, and this growing newfound respect. Respect needed to be paid to what was happening, because you loved each other too much, and were discovering each other's highest sexual expression during our encounter that night.

We began as we did before, rough, awkward MFM for the two of you, patient waiting for its deep-rooted outcome for me. She wanted to aggressively sex me, because she had learned that it was what pleased you. I gently redirected her hard kisses into tender ones, replaced hard grabs with soft touches, to help her discover what pleased her.

She laid on her back as she did before, only this time, you were giving her love the only way you knew; rough and intense, as her head was turned and holding my cock inside her mouth. She was confident, confident because she was hearing her husband growl and lose control, confident because she loved making a man cum. She buried my cock as deeply into her mouth as she could; she felt I would succumb as well. This was what she defined as her sexual pride because it was what she knew as it had always been.

She showed you her love by accepting you in that moment. You lost yourself to her, cumming hard and deep as she widened her legs and allowed your offering to sink deep within her. As you gathered yourself and pulled back, sinking into the bed beside her, I looked down into her eyes and reached down, tracing her jawline, waiting until, our eyes locked again. It was time.

I moved around and presented myself to her, for her, for you. You were laying beside her and I was on my knees. I felt the hardness of my cock, unorganized, heavy and hard, pulling away from my groin. I then realized that this same strong feeling, untamed, without direction, was first felt for your wife when she asked for my time.

Now, I would give us direction. Now, I would give us purpose. Now, I would help each of you know what pleased you most. Looking into her eyes, feeling your gaze upon me, I reached down to organize what she had brought out in me. I guided my cock to her, slowly placing it at her opening, wedging myself into her, enough to stick, not enough to part. Then I moved what she inspired up and down, up, and down. My head kissed her clit, and, holding myself, I lowered enough to kiss her cheek.

Then, we did it again.

The most exquisite sex is repetitive sex. Your wife did not need creativity, she needed me to give her the same pleasure again as I did the first time we were together. So she opened her legs wide and high, again, I gently parted her with my cockhead again, and I found her spot, my spot, our spot, again. She was much more in tune this time. She stopped her movement, and her body reacted to my stroking much, much sooner. You were seeing us again as I stroked your wife, just inside her canal, just angled to her top, pressing her spot just inside and sliding over it.

The groans came and she let us know. She sang a song, unique and completely hers, as her eyes glazed over and spilled into mine. As she began to let go, I dug my arm under her shoulder and kissed her cheek, and whispered to her that I was her man. Then I thrust deep, letting her orgasm massage her man.

When it subsided, we began again; all the same movement, no variation, no change in tempo. The minutes passed as she allowed me to provide her pleasure.

Then, I realized I was doing it for you. I looked over and saw your hardness, saw you gaze at me, saw you watch me complete your marriage. I felt a change within you, which we later realized was a new understanding. I would make love to your wife and give her complete relief, and you would achieve supreme relief from seeing, hearing and helping us as lovers.

Despite her urgings in that moment, I knew my time and your time had come. Now, I would stroke her for me, swift and short, until I felt that tingle as my lovesack tightened into me.

You then saw my pleasure and tied it to yours. Grabbing at your cock, you jerked furiously, and as I emptied what I had been preparing for your wife into her beautiful body, you released your pleasure into the air, and I heard your wife and you come for me.

Never again would I see you make love to your wife. Now, your pleasure was tied to mine.