tagLoving WivesBest So Far

Best So Far


I call it the three Ts - teasing, testing and then tasting. So I begin as I usually do, eye contact, tongue moistening my lips, then caressing and pawing, pressing myself and my crotch against him and pushing his mouth to mine for kisses.

It's nice to seek out the private erogenous zones. I move my mouth up to his neck and pick that spot that's not quite his neck or the shoulder, a soft spot full of nerve endings, and gently suck there. A shudder of anticipation and pleasure and we were undoing buttons and opening zippers.

His name is Ralph, close to 190 pounds of man and muscle. He must have guessed from my manner, my body language, my outrageous flirting, soon after we arrived, soon after my husband had unloaded the camping and fishing gear from the trailer, that this might happen but I had given him no clue of how or when or where. Provocative gestures and words, smiles and the gentle touch of my hand moving down his arm was among the hints. My husband agreed this one was dangerously handsome. 'Handsome is as handsome does,' I said.

Early morning at the river and I knew the quiet place where Ralph would stand, a fishing pole in one hand casting. He is at a loss of what to do with it when I climb down the bank into the water, come over to him and this time come on strong.

Right after the first kiss my hand goes down between the tops of his fishing waders. I begin gently massaging. I do so love the feel of a man's cock in my hand, knowing I've the power to make it hard. I quickly have the zipper open, both hands caressing his cock, soft and elastic against my fingers, feeling it swell, encouraging him, saying 'coming up big Ralph, beautifully big, a real love monster'.

I like to be totally un-sexual for what my husband calls my fuck-feasts, treating it as a challenge. I am coming on to him, hair piled into a baseball cap, no make-up, standing deep in the river in brown hip waders, wet yellow coat open over an old stained top, bra-less, pant-less, jeans zipper open wide, rubbing my pussy against his erection, letting it tease my labial lips and my clit without letting it slip inside me.

I take my time, adding more kisses, before wading back to the bank. There I kneel down in the grass, looking up at him, lifting my top to display my breasts, smiling a come-on smile as he stirs the water into waves following me, a hand on his erection.

He still seems hesitant so, as soon I have him down in front of me, I wriggle forward, reach out, grasp his cock and put it into my mouth. Looking up at him, I move my lips slowly over the shaft, teasing the head with my tongue, moving my mouth down to his balls, licking the underside before holding the now large erection in my hot mouth. I get dizzy with excitement when I suck on a man's cock and I hear him draw in his breath sharply.

This is the signal for me to pull out. I tell him I plan to mount him. My voice trembles saying the sight of a loaded cock going up into a waiting wet pussy always inflames me. I ask if he will be able to live up to the campfire hints of cock-power with enough hot creamy semen to nourish me and deliver me into ecstasy.

I become a wild woman when I am encouraged and then urged to surprise a new man in unusual situations. When my husband sees the signs, he plans the location, suggests what I wear; even suggests the positions. Though I want the man to go white-eyed with lust, I do try to be the one in control for as long as I can before I surrender to passion.

More kisses and caresses, more verbal encouragement. We slide down, flattening the tall grass and, as I ease down my jeans and pass a booted leg over his stomach, I ask him to begin with long slow strokes. I bring myself up, bending my knees and pause before using a hand to slip the head of his cock inside me. I hold it there for a long moment, looking down at him staring at me wide eyed, then move my gaze to the shaft of the swollen cock and begin moving down. There is always a sex sound, a kind of hiss, like skis on snow, and I give a long gasp of pleasure and satisfaction.

I keep the pace slow. Every time he tries to push up inside me I pull up just so far that he doesn't gain and I don't lose. I get him to lie still, letting my pussy muscles work his cock inside me for a long minute. We are oblivious to the wind and the river rushing behind us. He is oblivious to my husband watching us from the trees on the other bank, his camcorder in what I know will be a trembling hand; another movie for our collection.

We get into a rhythm and my pussy clenches his cock deep inside me. I am into orgasm mode, shuddering, my gasps and his and the creak of my moving boots being the only sounds we can hear. My body shakes with pleasure. When my climax subsides I pull up and off him. I bring his hand to my pussy and ask him to rub my clit gently while I prepare myself for his spurting finish.

Spreading myself back on the ground in the grass I tell him not to rush this. I spread my coat open and part my legs while his fingers rub my clit. This excites me more. He moves over and mounts me and I watch his free hand holding and aiming an impressive cock to where his fingers are creating tremors.

I tense so my pussy can contract around his cock as he pushes in. I urge him to thrust harder and, as a finger on my clit brings me closer and closer to orgasm, I start moving quicker on his cock, the movements driving me insane with pleasure with him diving ever deeper inside my pussy.

Every lover is different. I explain this later to my husband; that it is impossible to capture on the camcorder, even with its long focus lens, the way Ralph pulls back out a couple inches and then pausing and half turning, right and then left, before pushing back inside me slowly. I answer my husband's question saying Ralph explained it enabled him to enjoy the feeling of me being so tight and full. I told Ralph about the vibrations running from my pussy all over my body driving me to the edge until I could hardly breathe.

At the finish, I told my husband, he has his hands pressing down hard on the tops of my wet boots and his wet boots are rubbing against mine producing an extraordinary sucking sound. He is grunting, half groaning, pounding into me and I am loving every second of it. I feel the pulse - the signal he is ready to come - and my gasp is an unneeded invitation for him to perform. I explode some twenty seconds after his cock begins spurting; the hot semen splashing against my pussy walls delivering me into such passionate ecstasy my hands are clawing at him and I am 'ohgod-ohgod-ohgoding'.

Ralph pulls out of me slowly as his cock starts to soften and he lies down on top of my limp body. We lie there in a sweaty heap for a few minutes catching our breath, listening to the sound of the river and the birds before we untangle ourselves. Shedding water from a rain shower we had never noticed, he kisses me, then goes back smiling to the fishing.

Back in the apartment, day later, my husband decides it is the best movie so far. Sited in the bushes higher on the other bank, he enjoyed a good view but too far away to pick up sounds other than the flowing river. He gives me a long kiss and said my description is so good he would get me to record it and add it to the movie as a voice over. We discuss possible ideas and suitable man places for the next fuck feast as he runs the movie again, slow speed. Then comes the silence.

I know what that means and familiar cold excitement begins mounting. It is the same each time; a performance that seems to scale new heights each time. Wildly aroused, he takes me over to the bed, undresses me, kisses me, caresses me, spends minutes fondling my breasts, staring down at me, making his erotic pledges of lasting love.

A large mirror he fitted at an angle with the bed-board allows me a good view of a loaded cock going into a waiting wet pussy. He gives me very little time though, pulling me down on him, asking if can I feel him right in at the end of each plunge? Next I am pushed on my back and he is pulling back out a couple of inches, pausing and half turning, right and then left, before pushing back inside me slowly, seeking a comparison. 'I'm still the best, yes?' He spends another twenty minutes fucking me furiously until I am gasping and dizzy, fervently agreeing he is.

I think of it as a storm and once it is over, like all storms, it leaves a wonderful freshness, a feeling of comfort and satisfaction and emotional release. The loving then is muted but tender and it may be weeks, months even, before the tension rises again and there is a lingering look we exchange. We load the trailer and off to another forest or coast campsite of his choosing. Sometimes there is nothing there for me, nothing suitable to my exacting standards, and we pack up and return home. There we select one of our movies and watch it together. The effect, along with the result, is always the same although never quite as intense as when there is a new movie being added to the collection.

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