Author's Note: All characters depicted are 18 years of age or older.
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I was separated from my first husband for about nine months in our fifth year of marriage. It's a long story, but suffice to say we were living in his parents' basement at the time, he was failing college classes left and right, and we had two small children to take care of. I graduated college that year and moved out. Took the kids with me and got a job. I was done waiting for him to grow up. I thought our marriage was over. We ended up back together for another three years... but I didn't know it was going to turn out that way at the time.
When I got married, other men ceased to exist. I can honestly say I didn't even think about sex with other men. When I fall in love, I fall pretty completely. After we were separated, though, the whole world of men suddenly opened up to me again. They were noticing me -- not that they'd ever really stopped, but more importantly, I was noticing them. For a while, I was staying with a friend, and I happened to notice her ex-fiancé, Rob.
He was in the service and heading back to Europe on Sunday and staying at her place because it was closer to the airport. I think there had always been a low-grade attraction between us, but I hadn't noticed because I was married and he was with my friend. Then they broke up, and I was separated, and he and I spent the evening in her living room while everyone else was asleep. Rob played guitar, and I'm a sucker for a guy with a guitar. I insisted he sing every song he knew how to play, and when he ran out of those, we just sang together into the night. Before we knew it, it was two in the morning, and things were happening.
He put his hands on my shoulders, and I didn't say anything. I leaned back between his legs, and he didn't say anything. He slid down onto the floor from the couch and put his arms around me. I tilted my head back and up and him, searching his eyes, and that was really the moment we both said yes. I hadn't said "yes" to another man in years. I was nervous, excited. I didn't know what to expect.
I felt like a teenager, fumbling with his clothes, mine, rolling around on the floor, our mouths hungry, our hands eager. In spite of the fact that my friend had told me about his incredible size (13 inches -- they measured) I was still surprised when I found his cock in my hand. I've never seen anything that big before or since. Funny, he seemed just as eager to get my top off to expose my sizeable breasts, much bigger than my friend's perky ones.
We reveled in the newness of each other for a while, and before I knew it, he was kneeling up over me, that monster of a cock pressing against my lips. I opened for him, tried to take him, gagged a few times -- my god, he was so big. My jeans were undone, my hand shoved down my pants as I sucked him, rubbing furiously at my clit, delirious with lust. Not only was I having sex with my friend's ex-fiancé -- I was still technically married, and my friend was sleeping in the bedroom right above us and could come down at any time. The sound of a toilet flushing upstairs surprised us both, and he completely lost it, coming in a flood in my mouth. We separated quickly, and I pulled my clothes together, going upstairs and finding the bathroom empty again. I took a quick shower, feeling horribly guilty -- but I couldn't help touching myself, shuddering against the tiles, remembering the feel of his cock in my mouth and wondering what it would feel like shoved up inside of me.
The next day, he and I flirted mercilessly, finding every opportunity to touch each other, rub up against each other, while my friend wasn't looking. I had planned to go back home that day while I knew my ex and his parents were out of town to get some more of my stuff. When I mentioned this, Rob offered to come with me as "protection" -- just in case my ex showed up. We both knew why he was really coming along, and I'd barely opened the door when we were on each other. There were no pretenses. We both knew exactly what we wanted, and could continue, uninterrupted -- and we did.
We ended up in the bedroom, our clothes coming off quickly, both of us in a hurry, even though we didn't have to be. The experience of being with another man after so long was dizzyingly exciting. His kisses were different, he touched me differently, and the newness of it all made me incredibly wet. When he hooked his arms around my legs, pushing them back so he could slide himself deep inside of me, I was more than ready. I begged him to fuck me -- hard. And he did, his mouth crushing mine, his cock like a steel rod rammed between my thighs, again and again. I couldn't get enough of him. I didn't know where all this crazy lust had come from, but I gasped and panted and begged him for more, more, please, more, give it to me harder, god, don't ever stop...
When he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him and impaling me on his enormous length, I thought I'd faint from pleasure for a moment. I rocked on that hard cock until I took us both right up to the edge, his mouth teasing first one of my nipples, then the other, his thumb rubbing my clit as I fucked him. He gave me a little warning, just a whispered, "Wait." But I couldn't stop. I was too close.
I ground my hips down against his, squeezing him with my muscles, leaning in to kiss him as I came, feeling him shudder under me, his body bucking, our bellies slick with sweat as we writhed together on the bed. I felt every pulse of his cock -- he was so big inside of me, shoved so deep, that his cum immediately began to overflow and pool between us. I haven't talked to him since that day. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a sly wink before he left for the airport the next day, and that was it. I wasn't disappointed, though. I never told my friend. Or my husband -- even after we later got back together. It's just something that seemed better served being held secret. Until now.
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