The Hook Up

"What the hell am I doing?" I wondered to myself as I continued down the freeway toward a destination where I should not have been going and a rendezvous I should not have. The twinges of guilt and shame weren't quite enough to extinguish the passion that drove me forward, however. Like water tossed onto a roaring fire, the immediate result is steam. In my case the steam made me squirm in the leather seat of the BMW and drop a hand to the shaved and oiled flesh that my leather mini skirt barely covered. My panties, discarded according to instructions, lay crumpled on the seat beside me. I picked them up and used them to protect the leather seat from the seeping fluids of anticipation. Too late.

Twenty more miles to go. Twenty miles until I broke my vows of fidelity. Twenty miles before I put the need for passion and excitement above the mendacity a 21 year marriage, two kids and a husband who seemed to be gone more than he was around. Despite the guilt I felt excited and more aroused than ever. My entire body was tingling with anticipation and more than a little fear of what this encounter could begin. The half diluted and almost empty Mountain Dew in the cup holder did little to moisten the arid sensation in my mouth and on my lips; lips which would soon be wrapped around the cock of a man I'd never met.

This man that I was about to give myself to had never seen me. I knew him only a "Steve." It had started as a random internet encounter and had gone much further. We never exchanged pictures because we were both married, and because he said it was much more erotic to describe ourselves in intimate detail. This wasn't about destroying our families, but rather finding the passion and excitement that neither of us could find any more with our respective spouses. How would I compare to whatever image he had of me? How would the way I see myself compare with the way he would see me?

My breasts were nearly spilling out of the low cut white blouse I told him I would be wearing. Time and gravity had augmented what nature had begun. Where I was once a firm 32C, now I'm more of a 36D; sagging a bit but with slightly upturned nipples that I think look even better than before. Granted, I would love to have the body I had at 17, but on the eve of my fourth decade I think I look pretty good. Maturity added curves and in my case about 20 lbs, but I can still turn heads. I work out to stay healthy and attractive; not that my husband ever seemed to notice.

We used to have such a hot sex life. A memory of that time at my father's hunting cabin still sent a shiver over me. We were two young lovers and the thrill of the forbidden made it all the more exciting. How we nervously undressed so quickly in the cold; how he lifted me and tossed me on my parents' bed, following on top of me and smothering me with kisses while pawing my body; how he stopped with his penis at my entrance, looking into my eyes for the longest time before claiming my shivering body with a single hard thrust; how we ignored the cold and refused to get under the blankets because we loved how the heat from our bodies contrasted with the cool air. The memories returned and drove my fingers down to caress my clitoris.

Where had we gone off track? I remember when we were engaged, lying together on the sofa in the front room under a blanket; snuggling. The air smelled of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon as my mother was making breakfast. We had slept in separate rooms, though we had snuck together for a time in the darkness. Even though I was of age, my parents would have been pissed had they known that my pajamas were pushed to my knees and that his well lubricated cock was buried in my ass. It was such a deliciously naughty thing to do. Keeping quiet was the hardest thing; his fingers gently rubbing my clit; his hips working a slow rhythm as he took me where I had never let anyone else take me. We barely got away with it. I had the hand towel in the back of my PJ's to capture the seeping fluid his passion had deposited in my rectum, but our PJ's were up and we looked almost innocent when my mom walked into the room and said "Good morning, Sleepy heads."

As the miles slipped by I thought back to other memories. The first time my husband ever drove to meet my parents I had taken a pillow for the drive. Before long the pillow was on my lap and his hand was under it. My jeans had been discarded altogether, as well as my shoes and panties. The car was a two door Mercury with plenty of room to get comfortable for the long trip. We hadn't made it much past the first hour when touching lead to caressing, and then to me leaning over the seat and sucking on his thick cock while he drove. He caressed my face and stroked my hair as I continued. When at last he erupted in my mouth I swallowed it all without hesitation. I usually would have spat it out, but there was no place to do so. A few miles later he reached for the pillow and told me to unfasten my jeans. He kept his eyes on the road and his fingers on me until I came. It should have been enough, but moments later when he pulled off down a two track county access road I knew his passion had not been sated. The pillow went under my rump, the seat went back, and my future husband moved between my legs to fuck his future wife. Something about the whole scene was so hot that I must have masturbated to the memory 100 times; the way he looked as he leaned over me; the feel of his hard cock as he took me; the excitement that drove me to orgasm three times before he finally came; the risk of being seen; and the wild, sweaty climax. We kissed as he erupted inside me. Later, we cleaned up at a rest area so we didn't arrive smelling like sex.

The buzzing of my tires on the rumble strip jolts me back to reality and I quickly steer back into my lane. I've got to be more careful. Getting stopped by a police officer would require some painful explanations. If I could turn back now I would, but it was too late. I couldn't turn back the hands of time, and I so desperately needed to feel that fire again. I removed my finger from my wet pussy and sucked on it. Slut! Tramp! The only time I ever tasted myself was to tease him, unless I was sucking my juices off his cock. When was the last time that had happened? Was it all his fault, or mine? We had to grow older, but did we really have to grow up? How many nights had we waited to have sex until the kids had gone to bed, and then had tried to be as silent as possible so they didn't wake up? How many times did we just give up and go to sleep? How many nights did we sleep apart and pretend it didn't matter? How did we let things go so wrong?

I rolled down the window to cool myself, because I know my face is flushed. My body is ready for sex. If my husband can't stoke my inner fires any longer, then I'll have to meet people like Steve who can. I don't want a new love, just a hot lover. Why can't I have both; a husband and family that I love and the sex life that I used to enjoy? Maybe my husband had as well. If he had, I really didn't want to know.

As I pulled into the motel I let out a sigh. A rented blue car was at the end of the building, as promised. I pulled up beside it and nervously reached for the door. Was this the end or a new beginning? Fighting back the fear and guilt, I walked to the door and knocked three times.

When the door opened my jaw dropped in disbelief as I stared into the eyes of my husband. He simply reached for my hand and pulled me inside. "Hello, Baby," he said to me in a calm voice. Soft music was playing in the background and the flicker of a dozen candles illuminated the room. "It's been so long. I was afraid I'd lost my wild, sexy wife forever."

With that be picked me up and carried me to the bed. When I started to speak, he put his finger to my lips. "I know," he said. "I needed this as much as you do." He sat me gently on the bed and leaned down to pull off my skirt. There were so many things I wanted to say, but he didn't need to hear them.

His hands pushed my legs apart gently. Though I've felt the touch of his tongue on my flesh many times, this time it was different. His tongue plunged deep inside me and then trailed almost in perceptively over the edges of my labia. I squirmed under his touch as his large hands caressed the inside of my thighs. My eyes closed tightly as he swirled his tongue around and over my clit. It felt so amazing. This was just about us; two people in love sharing the most intimate of passions together. He made me cum with just his tongue. When he eased his fingers into me and curled them to massage my G spot, I gripped the sheets and rolled my head. He wasn't furious at me. He knew from our conversations that I had never cheated and had never wanted to, that I just needed to feel the fire again. The fire I was seeking had been there all along, buried under work schedules, last minute dinner cancellations, report cards and PTA conferences.

I had tears in my eyes as I came for the third time. My husband looked up at me, smiled, and climbed up beside me on the bed. I immediately rolled over on him and took him inside my....HIS... pussy. "Oh, baby, I love you so much," I whimpered. His strong arms held me as we began a slow steady rhythm. We locked into a kiss that neither of us wanted to break. It was as if we had come full circle; from passionate lovers to parents; to business people with schedules and commitments; and finally back to the passionate lovers we had been in the beginning. We didn't need other partners, we needed to rediscover each other.... and that part of ourselves that we had lost sight of. We promised each other that night to never let the world come between us again. If we made too much noise in the bedroom, then the kids could turn up THEIR TV's or stereos. It IS our house, after all.