An Escape to Love

My name is Sally and at the time of my story I was 19 years old.

I had married at eighteen and regretted it soon after. The trouble with my husband was that he thought he was a good lover.

He wasn't.

He was good at the romantic bits of foreplay, bunches of flowers, chocolates, kissing and caressing.

Unfortunately for me - or any other woman for that matter - was the fact that he would usually come in thirty seconds flat!

And he was a one-shot man.

It was because he was good at the build up and was blessed with a big stiff cock that the final let-down was so bad. I ended up in tears many times in the first few months of our marriage, tears of frustration.

To make matters worse, Tom was a bit of a control freak. For instance when I started having driving lessons, he told me I was wasting my time and money since he would never allow me to drive our car and we couldn't afford two cars.

And although my parents had strongly approved of him as a potential husband before we married, he seemed to turn against my family as soon as the confetti had blown away. He made any sort of excuse not to visit and put up barriers against me going to see them on my own.

When my brother, Paul, and my sister, Sarah, did drive over to see me he was very offhand with them too.

I grew more and more frustrated and unhappy but I had no one to unburden my troubles on.

We lived in an apartment block near the middle of town. It was very convenient but old fashioned. For instance, there was a washroom in the basement, with washing machines and dryers, all coin operated. There was also a coffee machine.

I used the washroom every Tuesday morning, mainly because it was busy on Mondays and Tuesday was the quietest day of the week there.

There was often one other user on Tuesday, a black man with greying sideburns who I took to be nearly forty, although I learned later that he was thirty-two. We often sat chatting and drinking the machine coffee whilst watching the dryers slowly revolving with our clothes in them.

I began to look forward to Tuesday mornings. Nathan, that was his name, was articulate and spoke with a northern accent. He told me his parents had worked in the car industry but had moved back when the far eastern manufacturers reduced sales of the home product and many workers got laid off.

"Nowadays they've got robots that can do the work of twenty men, and do it perfectly every time. It's the only way our people can compete but it is sad for those whose livelihoods are ruined," he said.

He was well read, had a good job on a local newspaper and had been married at some stage but it had finished two years back. He never went into much detail about that sort of thing, any more than I did. He liked to talk about politics and the state of the economy when I let him! But he could chat just as easily on lighter things, such as fashions and food. I loved chatting to him but sometimes I just sat and listened. I found myself liking him quite a lot.

I decided on a bit of teasing. One Tuesday I dressed in a short tight skirt and an off the shoulder tank top with my bra straps highly exposed. But it didn't appear to have any effect on Nathan. I tried other things, like a pair of skin tight pink cut-offs that showed the line of my panties very clearly and a see-through blouse with a red bra underneath.

I decided teasing Nathan wasn't a worthwhile game!

However, one day I had to pop out to the pharmacy before going down to the laundry room. I got there late and a bit out of breath. I had on a plain black skirt of modest length and a deep pink satin blouse that was ever so slightly small so it was stretched across my tits.

Nathan looked pleased to see me. When we sat down, side by side, he put his arm around me and stroked my shoulder. It wasn't all that sexy or anything. He just seemed fascinated by the smooth material and let his fingers roam softly over my shoulder and upper arm.

Perhaps, I thought, he might have a bit of a fetish. You know, perhaps he enjoyed stroking silk and satin, particularly if it covered a woman! I decided to test my theory.

Next week I wore a blue skirt with a row of buttons up the front. I left the bottom two buttons undone and wore a pretty waist slip in white satin with a lace edge. I practised sitting down, crossing my legs and ensuring the skirt fell aside showing plenty of slip.

When I tried this in the laundry room with Nathan, I could hear his sharp intake of breath as I exposed plenty of slip covered thigh. But he didn't touch! I was amazed at his self-control. When we had sorted our clothes out of the dryers,, I stood up to go. He stood up too. Then he gently took my face, cupped in his big hands and kissed me softly. Then he quickly turned and left.

There was no Nathan in the laundry room the following Tuesday or the one after that. I wondered if something had happened to him. Then I almost bumped into him going into the apartment building.

"Hi, Nathan," I called out, "I missed you at the laundry."

"Yea, I had a lot of things to do," he replied rather lamely.

"You're not avoiding me are you?" I queried.

"Er.. well I thought you'd be offended. You know...the way I kissed you that time," he didn't look directly at me as he said it, "You could have got me into a lot of trouble over that."

"Don't be silly, Nathan," I retorted, "We're not in the nineteenth century now. And it was my fault. I was teasing you. I didn't mean to upset you like this. I wanted to be friends." To reinforce my statement, I leaned forward and gave him a kiss. It was just a peck on his lips really, but it did the trick and he smiled at me again. It was like the sun coming out after a rainy day to see those gleaming white teeth of his.

Next Tuesday, I felt very excited when I went down to the basement and Nathan was there again. In fact I was so excited I'd forgotten to bring enough change for the dryer. So Nathan let me use his. After the things were all dry, Nathan insisted on sorting everything out. I think he liked sorting through my panties and bras! I didn't begrudge him those little pleasures.

The following week I dressed carefully in nice undies, blue button-up skirt and the deep pink blouse Nathan liked to stroke. I also wore sheer nylon stockings and a pretty garter belt.

It all made me feel very, very naughty. I wasn't out to tease this time.

Nathan bought me a coffee. We sat chatting like of old until the clothes were washed and we took them out to go into the dryer. I had enough change on me but I put my laundry into Nathan's dryer anyway. We grinned at each other as if we'd just exchanged a secret sign - we had!

When the stuff was all nice and dry, we threw it into our baskets and I suggested we go up to Nathan's place to sort it all out.

Once we were in his flat I took hold of Nathan's hand and placed it carefully over my breast.

"I've been longing for this. Are you ready for it?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

I smiled and nodded. Suddenly I was in his arms, his hands were roving all over my back and bottom. I managed to get a finger between us to unclip the waistband of my skirt, which slowly slid to the floor. Nathan's hands could now roam over the satin covered cheeks of my ass and up under my blouse as he kissed me. He began to push his tongue between my lips and I responded by flicking my own tongue across his, exchanging saliva as we held each other tightly.

He picked me up and carried me over onto the bed. His hands were up under my slip, pulling at my panties. There was a ripping sound that thrilled me. I had never had my panties ripped off before. What an exciting experience!

He pulled my legs wide, kicking off his jeans as he climbed between them. His cock was sticking out stiffly, not quite as big as Tom's but thicker and harder. He felt my wetness, then positioned his cock so the head rested against the entrance to my cunt. Then he drove it smoothly into me. My wetness and his precum provided sufficient lubrication for me to feel little pain, just a stretching feeling because his cock was so thick compared to my husband's.

Nathan wasted no time getting his rhythm going, thrusting into me with great pace and energy. I worked with him, enjoying every second of what seemed to be a mad frenzy of a fuck. Just as I began to experience a growing tingling prior to coming, Nathan cried, "I'm coming, Sally, I'm fucking you now."

"Come on then Nathan, fuck me and shoot your cum in my cunt," I blurted out as my own orgasm took hold. I felt so good as his cum shot into me, load after load. I realised I hadn't taken my pill that morning, not deliberately but as some sort of subconscious, maybe Freudian, slip. I didn't mind taking the chance with Nathan. After all it normally takes a fair amount of fucking to conceive.

Nathan rolled off me as his cock went limp. I propped myself up on one elbow and began to massage it back to size.

"Can you give me a blow job, Sally?" Nathan asked.

I had never done that for Tom. He had never asked me. But I had two boyfriends before I married and one of them had persuaded me to suck his cock. I had found it a messy business. He had come in my mouth without asking me first and his cum tasted awful. I had spat it out into a paper handkerchief and swore never to repeat the experience.

I took a deep breath. I wondered if Nathan's cum would taste any better. There was only one way to find out.

"I'll give it a go," I replied as cheerfully as I could.

I leaned over, stuck my tongue out and licked the tip of Nathan's cock. It felt soft and sticky but the taste wasn't that bad. I took the whole of the head into my mouth and began working it, slurping over it and tickling the end with my tongue.

I was amazed at how fast Nathan's cock grew back to size.

I felt a rush of adrenaline as I realised the immense power a woman can have over a man's sexuality. I sucked harder until Nathan exclaimed, "Sally, I'm coming."

I took his cock out long enough to reply, "Come in my mouth, Nathan, I want a good taste of your fucking cum."

With that he shot his load into my mouth and I tried to swallow it all. The first couple of shots, I managed to get down, but the third, I gagged on. His cock came out and my face and neck took the brunt. I was very pleased to find I rather liked the taste of his cum It wasn't bad at all. In fact, I thought, I could get seriously addicted to Nathan's cum!

I wanted more fucking and so did he. I managed to get the rest of my clothes off, stretched out between his legs and gave him all I could as far as cock sucking can go. When I got it up to reasonable size, I climbed over him and lowered myself onto his cock, fucking him boldly. It didn't take long for him to come a third time, but I still managed to have four or five orgasms before he did.

Our next fuck took a little while but I continued my string of orgasms almost as if all my bottled up sexuality had been let out at once.

Time was running out and I hated the thought of going back, even though it was only two floors away.

"You have to make a clean break of it. Come here and live with me and be my bitch" Nathan told me. His words were like music to my ears. I wanted nothing in the world as much as to live with him. Just imagine being fucked like that nearly every night!

I went up, packed a couple of bags with my clothes and wrote a note for Tom.

I never actually saw my husband again. A few weeks later, I had divorce papers served on me. By that time I was happily pregnant with Nathan's baby, the first of four.

After the second, Nathan asked me to marry him. He was usually a happily confident sort of guy, but he mumbled his offer in a very un-Nathan-like manner.

After I had accepted, I asked him why he had been so hesitant and why he had waited so long! He replied that he wasn't sure of me and thought I might turn him down.

I was astonished, I pointed out I was living with him and had two children for him. He told me that he had known white girls live with black boy friends for ages before splitting up. Only about one in four ever get married.

"Fucking black men is okay, but marrying them is definitely off," he said.

"Well, not after two kids it isn't," I replied.

I was married to Nathan the following month; my father actually came and gave me away, my sister Sarah, was bridesmaid and my mother and brother came too. I was so happy for all of their support. Nathan's younger brother Tyrone was best man.

I saw some glances between Tyrone and Sarah. Later at our small reception, they danced closely together and laughed a lot. But that's another story.