Addiction

When we got into her living room, Brenda's attitude changed. She got a semi-serious look on her face, approached me, and then put her arms around my neck and planted the most intense kiss of my life on my lips. At first I slightly resisted. When she moved one of her hands into contact with my saluting cock, I could no longer resist. I kissed her back while I grabbed her toned ass with both my hands.

I don't know how long the most intense kiss of my life lasted, but it seemed like five minutes. It was at least long enough for me to get so hard that it hurt and that I almost came in my pants. As soon as we broke our kiss Brenda expertly and quickly undid my belt and zipper and pulled down my pants and boxers – not easy to do considering the rigid state of my flagpole.

As soon as my pants and boxers were around my ankles, Brenda pushed me down on the couch in her living room, climbed on top of me, lifted up her dress, and finessed my upright cock into her very wet pussy. It's fortunate that her cooch was so moist because otherwise my cock would never have been buried within a reasonable length of time because her pussy was so snug. My cock entering her vagina was similar to putting latex gloves two sizes too small onto my hands – lubrication was necessary.

I could not believe how good my cock felt up her channel, maybe my best feeling ever – that is until she started squeezing and releasing her pc muscles, and bouncing up and down. Simply put I was experiencing sensory overload.

I worked my hands under her dress and alternately grabbed her bare ass and thighs and assisted her bouncing – not that she really needed any help. Once she had a rhythm going she planted a kiss for the ages on my lips, which she broke only when she started screaming in orgasm – and I do mean screaming.

Her first orgasm caused her to cease her squeeze-and-release and bouncing up and down for a while, but I made up for it by bucking upwardly seemingly trying to drive my cock into her lungs while I squeezed and massaged her ass and thighs.

Once she started recovering from her first orgasm she started her gyrations again but it wasn't long after that that I could no longer hold back, and fire-hosed her cunt with as much jism as I had ever produced in my life. That resulted in her being overcome by a second, even more powerful, orgasm.

Once I was through ejaculating into her snug pussy and she laid her torso limp on my chest, a feeling of serenity came over me the likes of which I had never experienced before. Time, distance, atmosphere, nothing seemed to exist except for my feeling of euphoria.

At some point I regained almost normal awareness, lifted her torso off my chest, and once she gingerly opened her eyes stared into them.

"You're a fucking goddess!" I exclaimed just before I planted a kiss on her smiling lips.

"Let's take this to your guest room," I mumbled, as I stood up with my semi-hard cock still in her cooch. That caused us to finally disengage. Once her feet hit the floor I pulled her dress over her head, leaving her naked (except for her high heels, which somehow were still on) since the dress apparently had a built in bra.

Brenda giggled, pushed me back on the couch, pulled off my shoes, socks, pants, and boxers and left them strewn on the living room floor, and then took my hand and let me upstairs.

As Brenda turned down the guest room queen size bed I took off my remaining clothing and then turned her toward me and held her at arm's length.

"Your body is like Aphrodite's," I mumbled.

"I'll bet that I suck cock better, though," she snickered, then manipulated me onto the mattress and started sucking my cock.

I do believe that was the first time that I ever had a partner suck my cock immediately after fucking. I had never eaten a pussy immediately after fucking it, but I thought that turnabout was fair play, so I maneuvered her into a sixty-nine and started sucking her clit and pinching her labia.

Our oral pleasuring didn't last long. She was soon on her hands and knees and begging me to "Fuck my brains out doggy you fucking bastard."

I was only too happy to accommodate her. I buried my cock in one stroke, eliciting a long groan from Brenda, then bent over her and grabbed a tit with one hand, and fingered her asshole with the other. I found out that she had oversized very sensitive nipples on her little tits, and that she also liked having her puckerhole penetrated, so I do believe that by the time that I finished ejaculating into her anxious cunt the second time that night that she had had three distinct orgasms, possibly with her hypersensitive nipples and responsive anus responsible for the first two, but the third definitely the result of my discharge.

Once we uncoupled we fell asleep in each other's arms and woke only when the sun made an appearance in the east-facing windows of her guest bedroom. We seemed to awaken at virtually the same time, and mutually smiled at each other. "You're beyond fabulous," I muttered, and then planted a kiss on her lips despite our morning breath.

"Probably the most fun I've ever had," she giggled, and then gave me a quick kiss. "I need a shower and a tooth-brushing," she chuckled as she popped out of bed. "Join me!"

I didn't need to be asked twice.

There was lots of grabbing, giggling, and hand slapping in the shower, but no sex. "Will my pussy ever stop leaking your cum?" Brenda asked at one point when she had washed her cooch for the third time.

"I'm anxious to help," I chuckled reaching for her pot of gold.

"Haven't you abused my little kitty too much already?" she giggled as she slapped my "helping" hand away.

We ate breakfast with her just in a skimpy negligee top, me in my boxers. We ate light even though fantastic sex normally makes me hungry; I guess that the sex with Brenda was beyond fantastic, so it had a different effect on me.

As part of our chit-chat over breakfast I said "I almost forgot – you enticed me to your lair last night by promising to tell me what your friend Cheryl said when you emailed her my photo when we first met."

"Do I have to?" she moaned.

"Yes, unless you want me to attack you," I fake growled.

She popped out of her chair, shrieked, and started running. She wasn't really trying too hard to get away and I caught her easily. Something about her look, fake pleading, and my recollection of our two heavenly encounters the previous night, caused me to get hard for the third time in less than seven hours, something that hadn't happened since my early twenties.

"You need to be punished," I growled, as I pulled down my boxers, sat on one of the kitchen chairs, and then placed the groveling Brenda on my lap, facing away from me.

"Please don't fuck me again, you brute – my cunt is already sore," she pleaded – although it sounded like Brer Rabbit asking not to be thrown into the briar patch.

It didn't take much finger action to get her as wet as I was hard, and soon my cock was up her pussy while I wrapped my arms around her with one hand on each tit under her negligee. As I vigorously fucked her – and she fucked back just as vigorously – I kept asking "What did Cheryl say," but was answered only by grunts.

That is I was answered only by grunts until she started climaxing when she yelped out "She said that if 'the hunk' didn't rape me that I should rape him," and then came with a vengeance.

Her orgasm, and words, were all it took for me to deposit another monster load in her pulsating pussy.

We recovered from our debilitating orgasms about ten minutes later, she stood up resulting in my cock popping out of her pussy, and we embraced standing up.

"I'm afraid that I'm going to need more of you," she whined.

"I couldn't stay away from you no matter what," I groaned back.

I got dressed and ready to leave long before Stan was due back. "The neighbors to the South are on vacation, and I would love it if you would go out the back door and loop around their lot so that no one sees you coming out of my front door at 9:00 a. m. That would be difficult to explain," she chuckled.

"Let's go for a bike ride Tuesday. I'll come by on my bike at 9:30, and we can 'snack' at my house when we're done," I said with an evil grin.

"Ok – sounds like a plan," she grinned back.

We passionately kissed and I exited the back door with endorphins still flowing through my brain like the Amazon, and I virtually floated to my car.

The guilt didn't hit me until Sunday night. However, I was able to suppress it enough to have a delightful sexual encounter with Joyce, and I didn't even fantasize about Brenda during the actual copulation. However as Joyce fell asleep on my shoulder I thought of Brenda, knew that I had to give her up, but didn't know how I could exercise enough self-control to do that.

*************

That Tuesday started a regular series of encounters between me and Brenda. While the days and circumstances varied, over the next several months what happened that Tuesday happened often.

After we finished a twenty five mile bike ride at my house, I placed two sheets over the guest room bedspread, and still sweaty from our ride we sucked and fucked each other through two orgasms for me and at least six for Brenda. It seems that our sweat glands produced pheromones that made us even more desirable to each other – if that was possible. After fucking we would shower together, Brenda would change into a sundress which easily fit in the pouch behind her bicycle seat, I would put her bike on my car's bike rack, and then drive her the roughly two miles back to her house. We had no PDA when we parted at her house.

Over the next several months, Brenda and I copulated at least two days, and sometimes as many as four days, a week, and every sexual encounter with her was just as spectacular as the first ones, and better than any other sexual experience of my life. We even spent the night together three more times when the circumstances allowed it.

While Brenda and I were in sexual nirvana, we did not fool ourselves that what we were doing was OK, or without possible consequences. Neither of our spouses deserved to have an unfaithful partner. While both of us ramped up our sexual activities with our spouses both out of guilt and because our sexual escapades together rocket-fueled our libidos, and while when we weren't fucking each other we were doing everything possible to make our spouses and families happy, we knew that our activities had the potential for destroying both families.

Despite our guilt but for a close call we probably would not have ever broken it off we were so addicted to each other.

On a Wednesday when Joyce and Stan were out of town on business, we did one of our classic bike trips followed by a fuck and suck session at my house. However on that particular day Brenda had something else that she had to do, and I had a meeting in early afternoon, so we departed from our normal M. O. and fucked only once. Also, after that fuck we didn't shower together and she left via her bicycle rather than having me drive her.

When Brenda left for some reason I immediately took off the sheets covering the guest room bedspread and put them in the washing machine before taking my shower, so that there was no evidence of the debauchery that had just taken place there. While I was in the shower, Joyce walked into the bathroom. I was shocked to see her.

"Hi Hon," she chirped. "Are you glad to see me?"

"Glad, but surprised," I answered through the shower door with my cock completely covered with soap.

"I got done early; I left a message on your cellphone, but seeing that your bike is right outside and that you're in the shower I guess that you were on a bike ride then, probably with Brenda or Jack," Jack being a sometimes cycling companion of mine

"I was biker riding with both of them, detective Joyce," I laughed as I told my partial white lie.

She opened the shower door and stared at my cock. My dick was hard as a result of my soaping it up and thinking back on the joy of just having been in Brenda's snug cunt. "Maybe I can help with that," she giggled, and got out of her clothes in seconds and stepped into the shower with me.

Since my cock was used to two fucks on days with Brenda, it had no trouble staying hard enough to service Joyce. The problem was that when I picked Joyce up and put her against the shower wall and then penetrated her and started fucking, all that I could think of was Brenda. While I do believe that Joyce had as intense an orgasm as ever, I was disturbed by the entire scenario.

I met Brenda at a park the next day and told her of the close encounter, and how I was thinking of her as I fucked Joyce senseless. "Brenda, I'm being consumed with guilt, and fear. If we had been caught – which we avoided by no more than five minutes and because I fortuitously removed the sheets from the guest room bedspread – our families would have been ruined."

Brenda looked very contemplative. After a delay she stared into my eyes. "My sexual relationship with you is the highlight of my life; but I have the same guilt and fear that you're experiencing. If we didn't have kids, and if our spouses were jerks, things would be different. But we do have kids, even if they're in college, and our spouses are wonderful people who don't deserve our unfaithfulness. Therefore we need to figure out a way to break it off."

I nodded my head in agreement. Then a thought occurred to me. "You know, I could finance us visiting a psychologist to get help on what to do without Joyce finding out. Are you game for that?"

Before she could answer, we exchanged white hot passionate looks. "Oh, shit," I mumbled out loud. I looked around, saw a remote wooded area about fifty meters away and no other people within sight, grabbed her hand and led her into the woods.

With just the bottom halves of our clothing taken down, while she bent over and braced herself against a tree, I fucked her brains out. Once we recovered – fortunately before anyone else walked by – she said "We have a real problem. I can go fifty-fifty with you on paying for a psychologist. Get an appointment and I'll make the time work for us."

We passionately kissed, walked back to our vehicles with no PDA, and took off. By that night, by begging and name-dropping, I had gotten an appointment on Friday with Dr. Meg Sheehan, a well-known psychologist and marriage counselor the next suburb over. I called Brenda Thursday morning and told her – she was on board.

*************

By agreeing to pay her a premium to take us at off hours, and after describing our problem, guilt, and fear to her, Dr. Sheehan was willing to see us four times over the next two weeks. It was fortunate that we were getting help because we simply could not stop fucking each other – and we were getting too bold, so exposure was a certainty unless we could somehow break it off.

By the third session Dr. Sheehan had diagnosed our problem. While she put it in clinical terms, she also put it in layman's terms. Her layman's explanation was "You two are simply addicted to each other, especially sex with each other. I don't use that term lightly. In the media you hear all of the time about people saying that they have a sexual addiction, but 99% of the time that's bullshit and just an excuse for promiscuous behavior."

"There is no such thing as clinical sexual addiction?" Brenda asked.

"There are a few real clinical cases, maybe one man out of a half a million and one female out of a million, but they are rare and the addiction is not restricted to one person. While I can't give you a real explanation for it, you two – and yours is only the second case in my experience – are addicted only to each other. I'm going to start you out today with techniques and medication that you can do and use to start breaking it off – because you will need to go cold turkey. That is the only thing that will work for you two," she grimly announced.

We realized that Meg Sheehan was right when immediately after that session with her we fucked each other's brains out in Brenda's SUV.

By the end of the fourth session with Dr. Sheehan we had absorbed all of the information we could about techniques to help us go cold turkey, and we had gotten some libido-suppressing homeopathic formulation that we could take for the first two weeks (only). We had one last sexcapade in a hotel room after that fourth session. Then in each other's presence we blocked our cell phone numbers and email addresses on each other's phones, and parted with a two minute long kiss that reached our souls.

We started going cold turkey just before Thanksgiving, and the upcoming holidays did help – in combination with the techniques that Meg Sheehan had given us and maybe even the homeopathic formulation (although I was less certain of that) – to cope. The first month I went to call Brenda every day. Sometimes I stopped myself, sometimes I actually called but since my number was blocked didn't get through.

I gradually introduced other sexual experiences into my relationship with Joyce, and made a truly concerted effort to have her – and Dylan and Parker's – needs at the forefront of my mind.

By the time that it was Christmas, I was well on my way to recovery from the Brenda-addiction. Whenever Joyce asked about seeing Brenda and Stan I deflected the inquiries. Meg had warned us that we would certainly relapse if we had personal contact, and it might be even harder to recover after a relapse.

One thing that helped me too was that both Dylan and Parker were in good places. Not only was school going well for them, but from things that Joyce and I overheard, and their smiling refusal to answer certain of Joyce's questions, I suspected, and Joyce was convinced, that they both had girlfriends. They were certainly gone a lot over the holidays, and spring break of the next year, but always fun and cheerful when they were home. Also, they talked to us on the phone even more regularly than normal, though the question of "girlfriends" was off the table as a topic of conversation.

*************

By the time that Dylan was ready to graduate college, I was proud of myself, and as happy as possible given the fact that I was no longer fucking sex-goddess Brenda. My relationships with Joyce, Dylan and Parker were as strong as they ever were, my sex life with Joyce was more exciting than it was before I met Brenda, and everything in my life seemed to be in place. Of course I still thought of Brenda daily, but my coping mechanisms had improved to the point that I rarely agonized, and I only fantasized that I was fucking Brenda only about one tenth of the times that I was actually fucking Joyce.

I was a little concerned about attending graduation since I supposed that Brenda's daughter Kiera would be graduating from the same university on the same day. However, since there were over eight thousand graduates that year, like most large universities the chances of running into someone from another school were slim. Dylan was graduating with a degree in electrical engineering and assuming that things had not changed since I last talked with Brenda about it – now about seven months ago – Kiera would be getting a degree from the school of arts and sciences in kinesthesiology, and her degree award ceremony would be on the other side of the campus, almost two miles away from where Dylan was getting his degree.

While there would be a common graduation ceremony for all schools in the football stadium, considering that with faculty, families, and guests that was likely to include more than 50,000 people, I convinced myself that I had an infinitesimal chance of seeing Brenda (and relapsing).

Joyce, Parker, and I were proud of Dylan when he got his degree and had many photos taken of the four of us. We also enjoyed the combined ceremony in the football stadium, and never ran into Brenda and Stan. Curiously, however, as we were leaving the stadium, Dylan had left to return his cap and gown, and I was cogitating on where we would go for a celebratory meal, Parker said "Mom and Dad. There's something that I need to tell you – and in a particular way. Dylan and I have reserved conference room 3C on the third floor of the Student Union. Could you meet us there in an hour?"