Plymouth

Prospective readers should be warned that this is a story of adultery. It describes the beginning of what turned into a sixteen year affair and is 98% true, the other 2% being merely the small tweaks designed to preserve some sort of anonymity on the internet. There will always be those who eagerly devour every word and then can't wait to let everyone know that in their opinion adultery is simply another word for fornication between two people who have abandoned their wedding vows and are thus no more than common prostitutes. Such folk are, of course, always free to move elsewhere on this great Literotica web site where they will no doubt find variations of human sexual behaviour that are more acceptable to them.

After ten years in Africa we came back to the UK in the June, and by August I had got a job flying a small plane – a twin-engined, six seater Piper Aztec – for a company in Plymouth. We moved into a house on the outskirts of the city, in a cul-de-sac where we soon became friends with a group of young marrieds with small children like ours. By Christmas we were out with them most Saturday nights, dining and dancing and flirting outrageously with each other, leaving the kids in the capable hands of the local teenagers who were delighted at the opportunity to top up their finances in time for the festive season.

My wife said that she rather fancied Peter, who lived at the end of the road with his family, and I certainly felt attracted to his wife, Anne-Marie. She was, like me, above average in height, with a long curvy body that it amused her to place firmly up against whoever she happened to be dancing with, but I soon discovered that there was a lot more to her actions when it was she and I who were on the floor. She would wrap her arms round my neck, wriggle in till we were cheek to cheek, and then deliberately rub her hips from side to side against mine. And as soon as she felt my resultant rampant hard-on - which never took very long - she would pull back and say something like 'I gather you're glad to see me' or 'what have we here', and then grind away harder, well aware that in public I was unable to respond the way I would dearly have liked to.

Anne-Marie was one of those women who believe that if you've got it, flaunt it, and what she did have to flaunt were the finest pair of legs that I have ever seen in my life. And she knew it! She would wear short skirts when we all went out, not so brief as to look tarty, but just that little bit shorter than you would have expected, and it amused us all to watch the men outside our little group taking a second and then a third look. I have always been a leg man myself and, trust me, by my standards hers were absolutely superb.

Then came the evening when we were dancing together and she whispered in my ear that it was time I took her to bed. Well, it might just have been Anne-Marie in a particularly flirty mood so I played right along, saying 'yes please, I've been wanting to take you to bed for ages'. But then she murmured that Peter was going to be in Europe on business the whole of the coming week, their two small girls would be in bed and fast asleep by nine at the latest, and after that she would be all on her own. As the flying programme was going to have me away from home later in the same week I said casually that I could always drop by for a coffee around ten one evening. She said that seemed like a good idea, and as we all split up later that night she whispered to me not to forget our coffee date

On the Thursday I flew three of our senior staff up to Newcastle for a meeting and then brought them back to a night landing at Exeter as the airfield at Plymouth - it was little more than a grass field in those days - had shut down at dusk. They were met by a company car and taken back home to Plymouth while I booked into a hotel, planning to fly the fifteen minutes back to base the next morning. I changed out of my uniform, hired some transport and took off down the A38, and just before ten was tapping gently on Anne-Marie's back window, well out of sight of the street lights at the front of the house.

She let me in wearing one of her short skirts and a loose, long-sleeved woollen top that was a lot more sexy on her than it sounds. She poured me a glass of wine, topped up her own and settled down at the other end of the settee. Then she pulled her knees up sideways on the cushions, the movement sliding her skirt right the way up those gorgeous long thighs. Trying to pretend that I hadn't noticed I failed utterly, and was rewarded with a knowing grin from Anne-Marie. We chatted for a while – the way the day's flying had gone, how the children were getting on at school – and then there was a bit of a pause. We both knew what I was doing there, and we knew that if we took the next step it would change our attitudes to each other and to our partners for the rest of our lives. I reached forward, touched her bare knee and said that I had been looking forward all week to having her to myself, and would she put on some smoochy music so that we could dance.

She went across and put on a record and as I stood up she came back and snuggled into me the way she always did, but this time there were no watching eyes to inhibit us, and we both knew it. I cupped her bum, pulling her hard in to me and pushing her hips from side to side against my cock, something I had never been able to do in public. She wrapped both arms right round my neck as usual and then captured my mouth with hers, her tongue flicking in and out and fighting with my own, and after that the music was not for dancing but simply an excuse for our bodies to push together and feel each other up. A few long moments of this and then I pulled back and said that she had been teasing me in public for far too long and now it was pay-back time. And when she murmured 'promises, promises' I knew she was mine for the taking.

I brought my hands up over the curve of her hips and in under her loose top, running my fingertips up her soft warm back either side of her spine, and when they reached her bra I fumbled about a bit till I had it undone. Well aware of my intentions she raised her arms above her head while I slid my hands right on up, taking bra and top with them till they came off and fell to the floor beside us. She said 'my turn now', unbuttoned my shirt and eased it off my shoulders and then plastered herself back up against me, her breasts flattening against my chest.

Well, whoever it was said that dancing is the vertical expression of a horizontal desire had it just right. By this time we had abandoned all our inhibitions and were wriggling up against each other, mouths clamped against mouths and hands running everywhere, and it wasn't long till my fingers found the fastening of her skirt and released it and she moved back to allow it to drop to the floor. She reached in between us with both hands to undo my belt but it didn't have the usual basic buckle, and she was making such a pig's ear of it that I took over. Then I stepped out of my slacks, took one of the cushions off the settee and dropped it on the rug in front of the fire.

I lay down and pulled Anne-Marie half across me, one breast on my chest and one of her legs between mine, and she immediately started rubbing her thigh hard against my cock. I encouraged her by gripping her waist and pulling her up and down against me, deliberately grinding my hip bone against her pussy as I did so, and she ground right back. Then I slid my hands inside her panties and she let me use our movements together to gradually ease them off her bum, and when they were down to the tops of her thighs she rolled off on to her back, raised her legs in the air and allowed me to slide her briefs up them and off.

I turned over, grabbed her wrists and held them over her head with one hand while I raised myself up on my elbow. I could hardly believe that this utterly desirable woman whom I had known for only a few months was splayed out naked on the rug in the firelight, smiling up at me, playing helpless and captivated and just waiting for me to fuck her. I ran my other hand down her body, over her breasts, across her navel and down between her thighs. She spread her legs wider, lifting her hips up to me and I pushed them hard back down with the heel of my hand, my fingers flicking up and down at the entrance to her warm, wet pussy as I did so, and she moaned deep in her throat as her body writhed against my hand. Then I slid my fingers up inside her and that took her right over the top. She wrestled her hands free, grabbed at my briefs and pushed them down till I had to break away and ease them off myself.

Then I pulled her right over on top of me, my legs pushing hers wide apart, our hips moving from side to side against each other while we searched with our bodies for the position we both wanted. As soon as my cock head located the sopping wet entrance to her hole I pushed her hips down with both hands and slid right up inside her. And then we fucked, slowly at first and then faster and faster, gasping and mewling louder and louder in time with our thrusts till I couldn't hold back any longer and came. Anne-Marie was still working away on me, her mouth and body writhing down on mine, her vaginal muscles tensing and relaxing around my cock, doing her best to encourage me just that little bit more, but then my cock softened down and there was nothing I could do about it. I pushed her off me, disgusted with my poor performance, but to my surprise she cuddled right back up again.

'It's OK. Peter always says that I am easy to get worked up but then it takes him ages to get me to come. Not that he seems to mind.'

She giggled, took my hand and slid it into the wet softness between the tops of her thighs.

'We've got all night – just keep me on the boil with your fingers till you're ready for some more action, and then you'll find I won't take long.'

And that's how it turned out.

This affair moved on to its inevitable conclusion - as they do - and many years later the two main characters in this story are still in regular and affectionate contact. Our memories are for us alone, our marriages are still intact and we, together with our unknowing partners, often meet to reminisce over lunch and a glass or two of wine about how we all lived and loved and laughed together, all those long years ago.