tagErotic CouplingsMy Life Ch. 03

My Life Ch. 03

byslider55©

(If you've been following my stories in Pt. 1 and 2, then you know I was 18 and having an affair with a married woman, Mrs. W. Bonnie. This is the 3rd installment.)

Mrs. W Shares

For 3 weeks, 3-4 nights a week, Bonnie and I made love. She taught me so many things and allowed me to learn some things through trial and error.

I learned she was so tight, not only because her husband wasn't very well endowed, but also because she had a tipped pelvic and all of her kids were born caesarian.

Bonnie helped find things to distract my mind from the head of my dick, sustain an erection longer. She taught me to be patient, explaining how the girls I would be dating would probably be a little scared at first, especially once they say what I had.

She let me play with her body, which helped me recognize levels of excitement from the way her body responded to the different things I tried. And she explained how some of the things she didn't care for would turn other women wild.

At the end of those three weeks Bonnie explained she had to stop because Robbie, her husband, was coming home in 5 days and would be home for a couple of weeks. She was already afraid I had stretched her too much.

Several times during those three weeks Bonnie talked about her friend, Mrs. J.

Mrs. J was 32. Taller than most of the girls or women of that time, about 5'9" and weighing around 130 lbs, her body was terrifically proportioned; her measurements, I found out later, were 36-25-34. She wore clothes that accentuated her build and left young men with imaginations, like me, walking around with semi-erections. With shoulder length blond hair and blue eyes, she was truly a beautiful woman and a major player in my dreams.

(I want to make myself clear, hear. This was the ‘60's. Most women weren't into working out. Their bodies weren't wire taut. Mrs. J didn't have six-pack abs or 5% body fat. What she had were curves, long legs, beautifully kept hair, makeup applied not caked and a gift at choosing clothes that stimulated the imagination of a young man.)

Mrs. J lived on a country estate 3 miles from our town. Her husband was a senior executive at one of the plants in a town ten miles north of us.

Bonnie told stories of how Mrs. J would wear clothes to show off her breasts and wear short shorts, very tight slacks or short skirts, anything that accentuated her well-toned hips and legs.

Then Bonnie said Mrs. J liked to dress to turn on high school boys. She was constantly talking about this one or that one she teased, and she often spoke of me.

When Bonnie started talking about how Mrs. J would find ways to press up against boys by taking their arms and pulling them against her breasts while she talked to them, I remembered she had done that to me on several occasions. I also remembered the difficulty I had in hiding the beginning of an erection long enough to get to my car.

When I told Bonnie about one particular incident she said she remembered it, and also remembered how Mrs. J had come back to the booth bragging about how she had excited me. "She was flushed, T. She was excited, too. She said, "I'll bet he wouldn't be too tired to go to bed with me."

Bonnie said Mrs. J was always complaining how unhappy she was with her sex life. When she was 22 she had married a man 16 years older than her and complained that he worked such long hours and never gave her any time.

When she wanted sex, she told Bonnie, she always had to be the one who started it. And most of the time he would put her off saying he was too tired.

According to Bonnie, Mrs. J had said on several occasions how she wished someone would just grab her, throw her down and have his way with her.

I began to think, which is exactly what Bonnie wanted. She was smiling when she said, "If you could get her alone long enough, flirt with her a little, maybe find some way for her to feel or see how big you are, you could have her, T. You could just take her the way she wants to taken."

I remembered the Band supporters were sponsoring a dance in two weeks to raise money for a trip to a competition and was sure Mrs. J would be one of the chaperones. Bonnie jumped on it.

"Dance with her, T. Slow dance with her! Hold her close. You'll know before the dance is over if you have a chance."

Bonnie was setting up her best friend. Aren't some women just wicked?

Three weeks earlier I would never have dared to even dream about trying anything. But these past three weeks with Bonnie had given me a confidence in myself sexually.

For the next two weeks I had a difficult time not thinking about Mrs. J. She was in both my night and daydreams. I had to stay busy, both at school and at work, or my cock would have been hard constantly. The more I thought of her the more I was determined to go for it.

Each time I saw Bonnie at the diner during that time she would find a moment to say something, like "Make sure you pinch her nipples." Or with a giggle, "Grab her butt while you're dancing with her." Even "Handle her rough, T. That's what she wants."

Bonnie stopped by the station the night before the dance, came behind the counter, dropped to her knees and gave me a wonderful blowjob right there. It was a quiet night, sure, but we were still open, all the lights were on and passersby could see me sitting at the counter. Someone even honked as they passed.

Did I care? Let's see – I was 18 and my hormones were pumping, I had a mature woman who loved to make love to my cock and was willing to drop to her knees, right there, for my pleasure. Do I let her?!! Hell, yes!!!

Afterward she sat down on the other side and told me how she had seen Donna, Mrs. J, three times during the week.

"I told Donna that you often come down to the diner for a sandwich after you close. I also told her that you and I had talked about her a couple of times and that you think she is really hot! She had to know exactly what you said so I made up some good lies. I told her you had made comments about her butt and breasts, and several about those long legs of hers."

"I told her how, during one of our conversations, I had teased you and asked what you would do with her if you had the chance and that you had smiled and said, "Well, she would remember me, I guarantee that."

Laying her hand on my arm she said, "I couldn't stop myself, T. Yesterday I told her about overhearing my boys talking about how big your cock is. Her mouth dropped open, T. She couldn't stop talking about it. She wanted to know exactly what the boys had said, wanted to know just how big it was. I told her all I know is that the "T" stands for "Trunk", like in an elephants trunk, and not for Tim as we all thought."

"She kept asking if I thought it was really big or if the boys were exaggerating? I told her I know my boys voices and they were in awe. Brad even said he wished his was half that size!"

Then she had to know how many girls you had been with or if you were dating anyone steady. She kept going on and on, T."

"I even told her how I wish I hadn't heard my boys talking because ever since I had been having dreams, very hot dreams. I said I was thinking about seducing you myself." Then Bonnie took my face in her hands, gave me a kiss, and added, "Give it to her good, T. She needs it."

Our school had a large cafeteria where our dances were held. I saw Mrs. J as soon as I entered. She was wearing a white blouse and a light blue pleated skirt that ended above the knee about 3 inches.

Now I happen to love a pleated skirt. On the right woman it can be a thing of magic for me. And Mrs. J was the right kind of woman.

I love the way the pleated skirt sways when a woman walks. It gets the imagination working, trying to visualize just how good it is underneath. Frankly, though, had she been a student she wouldn't have been allowed to wear one so short in the school back then.

As I got closer I realized the blouse was light enough to see the outline of her bra.

She was "talking" to a group of my football teammates. She was hanging on to Ted's arm as she talked to him and the rest. What a tease she was! I joined the group and heard her speak of how well we were doing with our football team and how exciting it was for us to have such a long winning streak.

Ted was my best friend in school. We did a lot of things together, hung out during lunchtimes, were co-captains of the football team together. He was president of the school varsity club. I was vice-president. He caught every pitch I'd thrown since Little League.

But when I joined the group Mrs. J instantly released his arm and moved to mine. By the look on his face I think he was just a little jealous! I didn't mind at all.

As she pulled my arm to her I managed a subtle massage of her breast with my elbow. She just pulled it tighter to her.

When the band started playing the girl friends started pulling the boys away from the discussion group. I watched Ted's girlfriend, Melody, almost run over to yank him away. I grinned at him.

There was fast dancing music at first. Mrs. J started to pull away saying she needed to patrol the floor. I put my hand over her arm, holding it in place and moved with her saying "I'll just join you, if you don't mind." She gripped me again and said, "I'd like that."

We were walking through the dance floor when the third song began. It was a slow one. Looking into her eyes I asked, "Would you care to dance?"

"I probably shouldn't but one should be alright", she responded. She seemed a little flushed but in the darkness I wasn't positive.

Now I love to dance. Fast or slow, it doesn't matter. When we started it was obviously her intention not to get to close. There were a couple of inches between us at first.

I let it go for just a short time and in the middle of a turn managed to pull her up against me. Our entwined hands were against my chest and her head was now on my shoulder. Of course her breasts were fully against me now so I pulled our hands closer in so the back of my fingers would lay against her breast. When contact was made her hand tightened on mine but didn't pull mine away.

Her smell was intoxicating. Her hair was fresh and clean and her perfume was ghostly, if you know what I mean. I mean, most girls put it on so heavy that it will slap you in the face from across the room. You can tell they have been in a room and hour after they have left.

With Mrs. J, Donna, as I was now calling her in my thoughts and dreams, the perfume aroma was there, yes, but as an afterthought. It made you enjoy while wondering where the aroma was coming from, all at the same time. It was shyly refreshing and highly erotic for this young man.

She was close enough now for me to get my leg between hers as we turned and especially when I guided her backwards. That step forward pushed my thigh directly into her crotch. When I worked a turn into that step forward the pressure against her pelvic area was even greater.

The warmth of her body held so closely, her breasts against my chest, the smell of her hair and light perfume, and our pelvic area making intermittent contact had me getting hard in no time. Unfortunately for me I had started with it down my left pant leg. As it grew it was trapped there, creating an uncomfortable situation.

Because it was trapped, however, the bulge it created permitted constant contact with her right leg. Was it my imagination or was she moving closer, pressing herself tighter against it?

It wasn't my imagination. Her left arm encircled my neck instead of her hand just lying on the back of my shoulder. Her hand caressed the nape of my neck. I love it when a woman does that.

Her breasts, now crushed against me, were rising and falling at a much faster pace and she was making sure her right leg kept almost constant contact with that bulge it was feeling.

I let my right hand drop lower and lower while I steered us toward the darkest corner. Once there I let my hand drop to the top of that wonderful butt, then pulled and held her tight against my cock.

When the music stopped and we parted her eyes immediately dropped to that bulge. The bulge was so obvious, pushing the leg of my white Levi's out at an incredible angle. I did nothing to try and hide it. Her eyes widened and her lips formed but never said the word "OH".

When she finally pulled herself away she hurried toward the Ladies room. When she got about ten feet away she looked back at me. Well, not at my face. Her head turned and she looked right at my pants leg where my cock was bulging.

When the next slow dance started I watched her out of the corner of my eye as I asked one of the girls from school to dance. She was standing by herself and all through that dance she kept glancing at me.

After a break by the band, then several fast dances, the third slow dance began. I had lost track of her temporarily but an arm entwined in mine and I felt it crushed into a breast. Turning to look, there she was.

"How about another dance, T?" "Certainly," I said and guided her out onto the floor.

No pretenses this time, she molded herself to me instantly. My cock, which had quieted over time, began to grow before we made it to the floor but I managed to direct it upward before being clamped in by her body.

My Arrow shirt was not tucked in and right then I was glad for that decision. As my cock grew it pushed through the waistband of my boxers and the waist of my Levi's. She felt me growing against her and pushed herself even harder against me, if that were possible.

It would have been funny, I suppose, if I hadn't been so turned on, to feel her try to get more contact with that cock without letting the whole school know what she was doing. She was just short of dry humping me.

I knew the song was approaching the finish so I steered her toward the back corner of the dance floor again, making sure my back was to the other dancers. This time I dropped my hand fully onto that wonderful ass, gripped it firmly and pulled her hard against me. At the same time I separated two fingers of my hand and pinched her right nipple between them.

Her grip on my neck and her grip on my hand both tightened and a low moan emanated from somewhere deep.

When we separated this time her eyes dropped immediately. There was a wet spot on my arrow shirt where my cock had begun leaking. That spot had transferred to her blouse. Both spots were much higher than she was expecting.

She was touching my right arm with her left hand when she whispered, "My God', and reached out with her right to touch the spot.

I wish you could have seen her face when, in touching that spot, she felt the head of my cock right behind it.

I pulled my shirt up quickly, pretending to look at the spot, completely exposing the end of my cock to her view. Trapped like it was between my body and my pants, the tip was a couple of inches above my belly button. I think Mrs. J forgot the rest of me was there. She was locked onto my cock.

When I dropped my shirttail back in place her hand started coming forward to pick it up again. I quickly grabbed her wrist to stop her, guided her arm under mine and escorted her back toward the crowd.

As we entered a more lighted area I looked at her again. She was flushed and there was moisture on her forehead. She was breathing rapidly. When one of the other chaperones approached and asked her if she would volunteer to stay for the cleanup, all she could do was nod.

As I extracted my arm from hers, she let go reluctantly. Turning to her I said "I'll give you a hand with the cleanup if you'd like."

She found her voice enough to breath out "Yes, uh, OK, um yes, great, T. Yes, um, thank you."

Several times during the clean up we found ourselves alone for several seconds. In the empty building you could track the footfalls coming and going easily, so I took advantage of those moments quickly.

She was cleaning a table the first time. I moved quickly behind her, reached around to grip both of her breasts, and, while pinching both her nipples pulled her back into my cock. It nestled nicely between those wonderful ass cheeks like it was made to fit.

Instead of jumping away from me, her hands came up and pressed harder against mine and she thrust that gorgeous ass against my cock. I held her there, pinching those nipples and humping her ass, kissing her neck and ear, then separated quickly when I heard footfalls approaching.

The next time she was moving to get an empty trashcan from the corner and drag it over to where she was working. Moving in I pinned her back against the wall, moved tight against her and crushed our mouths together. Her arms flew around me, her mouth opened immediately, our tongues were lashing at each other's and she was humping wildly against my leg.

Turning slightly I dropped my left hand below the hem of her skirt and slid it up her left thigh, palm up, to grasp her pussy firmly. Her panties were soaking wet, and I felt a wad of something under her panties. Jerking her panties aside, my two middle fingers curled upward and massaged that area Bonnie loved me to touch. Donna let out a loud whining groan and her legs sagged as if she was going to drop to the floor. Again we had to separate quickly.

As I pulled my hand free I grabbed that wad I had felt. It was a wad of rolled up toilet paper, soaked clear through. This woman was ready!!!

One more time we were left alone. This time I merely put my arms around her. I gripped that ass in my hands and pulled her tight to my cock.

"When you leave, pull your car behind the football grandstand. I'll be waiting," I said.

When the other students came back we were across the room from each other. I spoke up to say I had to get going, wished everyone a good night, and left.

Lights off I pulled my car behind the grandstand. Getting out I crawled through a window I left unlocked for the purpose, unlocked the door from the inside, then went out and leaned against my car, waiting.

There was a stand of woods that stretched the length of the grandstand and the only thing visible from where I stood was the entry doors to the school. I saw the other student's leave, then, about 5 minutes later, saw Donna come out, lock the doors and walk to her car. I heard the engine start, saw the lights come on and the car began to move.

I remember praying for it to come in my direction, fearing she would chicken out.

She turned my way.

When the car stopped beside me I opened the door. The dome lights came on to display a wonderful visage. Through her blouse and bra I could see her nipples standing tall. They were long, like the eraser end of a #2 pencil.

In sitting, her pleated skirt had ridden higher on her thighs; just a couple of inches and her panties would have been in plain sight.

When I extended my hand to help her out of the car, she kept both hands on the steering wheel. "I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have come. This isn't right." She looked up at me and, in the glare of the interior dome light, seemed like a deer frozen in the headlights.

For a heartbeat I felt disappointed, then remembered Bonnie's words. "Take her, T. Handle her rough. That's what she wants."

Reaching forward and laying my right hand on top of her breast I closed my thumb and forefinger on her left nipple.

"That's not what this is saying!" and I pinched it hard. With a moan her hands came off the steering wheel and grabbed my arm. She didn't jerk on it, just grabbed.

Leaning over so my lips were a mere inch away from hers, I dropped my left between her legs, slid them up between her open thighs and grasped her mound, again sinking those fingers, panties and all, into her pussy. Man she was soaked. Now one of her hands held my left wrist and the other held my right.

"And it isn't what this is telling me," I whispered as I worked those fingers in and out of her. Her hands gripped my wrists tight, but didn't push me away.

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