Falling in Love Again

Chris fell silent and dropped back to stare at the pundits on TV arguing about the finer points of the football match. He was not listening, however. He had become desperate to try out a few ideas, sexually, and this time, he was determined to do it. He would never consider an affair, or paying for sex - he was far too honest - but this situation was ideal. He didn't even want to admit that having his wife expose herself to others turned him on - not yet anyway - but he knew it did.

The following day, Kay went to the doctor. She said nothing about her visit, but when she returned home, Chris asked: "How long?"

"Well - I did a self-test, which gives results in half an hour, and was negative, but the doctor's doing a proper one, along with everything else. Takes about two weeks."

She actually felt nervous - it was entirely possible that she had some disease. The test, and the required counselling before the test had brought the possibility home to her.

"Please show me the results. I don't think you'd be stupid enough to hide something serious, but I want to be certain. If anything's positive, we'll go from there. Most things can be treated these days."

He had been about to walk away, when he suddenly turned. "Oh - just to be clear - when we work through these things, they're not one-offs. If they're good, we keep doing them. OK?"

She nodded. That pleased her. She had worried that all he wanted was to tick off a 'bucket list' of sex. Clearly, there was more to it.

Over the next few days, the atmosphere between them thawed. Rather than avoiding invading one another's space, and sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, they brushed against one another, allowed hands to linger when they touched and sat closer together.

This grew, until by the end of the week, they were holding hands, kissed occasionally and the brushes became strokes.

Over the weekend, the strokes were more intimate - he ran his hand over her buttocks, and when he stood behind her, she thrust herself against his crotch, her firm cheeks finding him semi-erect. As she ate a slice of cake, he even brushed the crumbs off her breasts. He began on her cleavage, enjoying the feel of the soft, smooth flesh, which wobbled and jiggled. Then he moved down, brushing slowly over her nipples, bringing them erect and very evident through her thin t-shirt.

On Sunday evening, they sat together on the sofa, holding hands. "Tell you what," he said, "obviously we're waiting on your results, but even if something's negative, it'll be put right. How about looking for those things we said we'd get?"

She was amazed. She had expected to be kept waiting, but he actually seemed enthusiastic. She did not want to seem too keen. She already felt like a slut, and was reluctant to appear desperate, so after some 'umming and ahhing', she finally agreed.

Opening the laptop, he asked her which website to visit. She directed him to a well-known one (thanks to TV advertising), where they bought a range of wands, clit suckers, nipple clamps, butt plugs, vibrators (bullet and rabbit), dildos and other basic requirements.

He then asked about bondage, and she directed him to another site, where they decided on handcuffs (two sets), ropes, bed restraints, a paddle and a switch. They wondered about a blindfold, but decided any length of cloth would do.

They visited a lingerie retailer, buying various bras, knickers, corsets, stockings, suspender belts and diaphanous body coverings, before moving on to outfits and costumes. A sexy, burlesque outfit, a sexy nurse, Wonder Woman for a start. Then he told her to look away, while he added a few surprises.

As he pecked at the keyboard, her hand was on his thigh. She was not really concentrating, and, imperceptibly, the hand slid upwards. It was only as her wrist dropped back and found a rigid tube, while her fingers rolled a ball to one side, that she realised she was touching his erection.

She almost pulled away in shock, but instead, decided to leave her arm there - even push a little more firmly. Maybe ... just maybe things could move on a little.

He stopped typing. There was tension between them.

"You seem to be enjoying shopping," she whispered, seductively. "Would you like a hand with that?"

He licked his lips, mind racing. "You know we can't have full sex - or oral - till I know I won't catch anything."

"I know - but still - I've got hands."

"What about you?"

"Well - what do you want? You can do what you want with me - or just watch me."

He thought. "Or both."

"Mmmm."

Her hand moved to grip his erection through his trousers, feeling it, solid and large, just as she remembered. She wanted to please him.

"OK," he stated, "take your clothes off. Let me watch you."

She smiled and stood, peeling off her t-shirt to expose a well-filled, lacy bra. She unfastened her jeans, sliding them down her legs. She wished she had worn more exotic underwear - the bra was old and 'comfortable', and the knickers were cotton, baggy and very unflattering. Still. They'd be off soon.

She paused, waiting for him to undress, before realising that he planned on sitting, fully clothed while she performed. Whatever. She was determined to make this work, and anyway, she had had full sex with people while clothed men stood around and took photographs - this was nothing.

She unhooked her bra, letting her full, round breasts fall free. Her nipples were erect, deep-pink, bubble-gum nubs surrounded by the stipple areolae, mounted on bouncing mounds of flesh. All very poetic, but she knew she had good tits.

She was determined to perform well, so rather than just slip off her knickers, she took a nipple between her fingers, pinching and tweaking, trying to make it bigger and more extended. She closed her eyes as a thrill ran through her. With others, she had just blanked her mind and performed - with Chris, however, there was an excitement, a genuine turn-on.

She opened her eyes and looked at him - but his face was partially hidden. He was holding up his phone, taking photographs. Initially, she was shocked - they hadn't done this in years - then she relaxed. If he wanted a model, so be it.

She cupped her breasts, pouted, turned to the side, then turned round, sticking her bum out, pulling the tatty old knickers high into her crack, exposing her buttocks. She reached round, stroking the exposed cheek, then slapped it.

She turned again, a nipple in each hand as she stimulated herself, then cupped her left breast, bringing it up to her mouth, so she could lick the erect cylinder at the tip.

Once again she turned. This time, her thumbs went into the waistband of her knickers, sliding them down as she bent forward, her full, round buttocks pointing at him as she bent, spreading slightly, offering a glimpse of the dark passage in between, and, just below, the pouting lips around the slit, glistening with her juices.

He moved closer, pointing his phone directly at her most intimate parts. In the past, the photographs had been more glamour/soft porn - none of these close-up, almost gynaecological shots. She rather liked it. An interest in her pussy and its workings would be useful if her pleasure was going to increase.

She shifted her legs a little wider apart, and slid her hand up her inner thigh, eventually touching her labia. She felt the slick juices, allowing her fingers to slide across the slippery surfaces, gently pressing to enjoy the sensation.

She slipped two fingers between the lips, parting them slightly, showing him her inner parts - she wanted him to be familiar with these, wanted to show him how she liked to be touched, and the effect it had on her. She wished she had a vibrator, or a wand - anything to help - but, she rationalised, her fingers would be better for educating him.

While bending forward would give a good view of her pussy, standing like this was not best for masturbating, nor was it the best position for him to see her clitoris. He had always been quite attentive to this, but more understanding of how it worked, and how she liked it touched would be good.

She turned to face him, showing him her shaved pubis for the first time. The last time he had seen it properly, it would have had a coating of hair - neat and trimmed, but slightly obscuring the fleshy parts beneath. He said he preferred that - liking a totally bald cunt, he said indicated a degree of paedophilia - something he despised.

"Aren't you going to join me?" She asked.

"Not yet. I want you to carry on alone. I'll join in when I'm ready."

He seemed to have very clear ideas about what he wanted, and while she felt a slight fluttering in her stomach as she performed for his searching camera, she wanted to continue. Her emotional connection to him was making this a far greater turn-on than any of her drunken, closed-minded demonstrations for sweating perverts in a hotel room.

She thought back to those occasions - how she and other women (often Sandy, her usual partner for lesbian shoots) had giggled as if having fun, while really laughing at the heavy-breathing, grunting of the men who jockeyed for the best angle, and would occasionally stop taking photos and sit back, unzipping to take out their pathetic cock and wank into a tissue.

She lay back and spread her legs wide, allowing her hand to drop down and spread her lips wide. She heard his movement, and wondered what he was up to. Raising her head, she saw him moving the lamp on its flexible stand, so that the full force of the light was directly between her thighs, almost like being checked out at the doctor's.

With her labia wide, she reached to the point where they joined, at the top. Her clitoris was already poking from its hood, and she made sure it was as exposed as possible before she began stroking it. She shivered as she ran her finger over the bundle of hyper-sensitive nerves, buttocks clenching.

She stroked, then tapped, feeling the thrill spread around her labia and her pleasure mount. She could reach her orgasm this way, but wanted more. Indeed, given the choice, she would prefer vaginal and clitoral stimulation simultaneously. Sadly, that would be impossible this time - if only he could lick her clit and ram his fingers into her at the same time - or if someone could ... or if she had a toy ...

She continued stroking and tapping, bringing herself to the brink, before slowing down and letting her fingers drift to the dark hole below. She slipped in first one finger - easy - then two - better - and three - not filling her, but getting there. Her fingers disappeared, finding the spongy surface inside, just at the front as she bent them upwards.

She pressed, then moved her fingers in and out, pressing. Slowly at first, then speeding up, becoming increasingly rapid as she felt the flow of her liquids increase. She built up pace, her breathing becoming rapid, small moans sounding as she moved to her climax.

She felt herself building up, her head beginning to spin and her thighs tensing. Oh yes. Shame she was unlikely to squirt - he might have enjoyed that - but that only tended to happen when both clit and g-spot were worked. Never mind. He would see her juices run freely, and her pussy contract and dilate rhythmically - at least, she hoped she would have it sufficiently open for him to see. Mmm ...

"Stop!" He cried.

She stopped, surprised at his interruption, and more than a little disappointed at his intrusion.

"Let me help."

He knelt beside her, still fully clothed, and slipped his hand between her legs - three fingers inside - bigger fingers than hers - longer and deeper - broader too, bending up, pressing the sensitive surface inside.

"Work your clit," he ordered. She needed no encouragement, and as he began to thrust his hand in and out, she manipulated the little button which brought so much pleasure. Perhaps she would squirt after all.

The air was heady with her sex - the musky scent, the sounds of slopping and bubbling as she prepared to erupt. He gazed down, looking at her genitals as never before, allowing himself to see parts of her he had never looked at in detail - not because he didn't want to, but because he felt it would be demeaning or degrading for her. Now he knew this was untrue, and he could indulge himself.

Her orgasm arrived with a long, drawn-out moan. He felt pulsing around his fingers, and a gush of liquid, flowing on to his hand, and running down on to the carpet. Had she squirted? There had definitely been the pressure of fast-flowing liquid on his palm, two or three jets. He had never known her do this. He had to ask.

Gradually, her mind returned to normality, her thighs unclenched and the pulsing ecstasy between her thighs eased. She realised that he was speaking, and focused on the question. She thought. Had she squirted? She was fairly sure she had, and the wetness dribbling down her thighs reinforced the idea. She nodded before replying.

"Mmm ... I think so. I squirt sometimes, but I don't have much control over it."

He raised his eyebrows. "I'll have to get a pic of it sometime - or a video."

The liquid still ran between her buttocks, making her feel as if she had wet herself. Now she had climaxed, she felt very vulnerable as he knelt over her naked body. He was still fully clothed, examining her as if she were some sort of specimen. She rather liked it. It made him seem ... powerful. She had never known him like this, and she liked it.

He stood and took off his shirt. "My turn," he stated, "give me a handjob."

She knelt in front of him - another vulnerable position - and unzipped him, allowing his trousers and underwear to fall away as one. He stepped out of them and kicked them aside.

His penis was erect. It was bigger than she remembered. She knew it was a bit bigger than average (not much, but a little) - and had good girth - but was pleasantly surprised to find her expectations exceeded.

She took his shaft in hand and started to stroke, then leaned forward to take the silky-smooth, purplish head in her mouth.

"No." He pushed her back gently. "Not before the tests are back. I don't want chlamydia."

She knew he was right - she had had chlamydia before, and knew oral sex was a transmission route. Better to avoid it than bounce it back and forth between them and delay the chance to explore their 'new' relationship fully.

She leaned back and looked up at him, eyes flicking between his face and the engorged cock before her. Strange - she thought of his as a 'cock', while she had considered other men's as the more diminutive 'dick'. That had to be good.

As she stroked him, he realised that she was more skilled than she had been. In the past, she had stroked his shaft, and had only made him cum with her hand if he surrounded it with his and extended her strokes to encompass his most sensitive part.

Not only that, she used her other hand, first to fondle his balls - lightly and gently, with an occasional squeeze, then snaking round to his buttock, grabbing it, then letting her fingers slip between his cheeks, approaching his anus. He had never had his anus played with, but was intrigued to experience it, having researched the pleasures of prostate stimulation.

She jerked him steadily at first, slowly, like she used to - too slowly to finish him off - then she built up speed as her hand gripped his arse. Faster, faster - oh yes, this was good. He wanted to finish on her face, and his camera was pointing down. He took photos of her face, his penis above it, wrapped in her hand. Her mouth was slightly open, until she bit her lip, eyes desperate to please him.

It did not take long, once she began stroking quickly. Her hand flickered, blurred across his cock-head, flickering in and out of view behind her hand and his foreskin. Then he went rigid, buttocks squeezing the fingers between them, hips forward, head back as he moaned, then snapping forwards to watch as he pumped globs of creamy cum onto her face, into her hair, and as the spurts subsided, his semen ran across her hand, dripping on to her chin, her breasts, her nose.

She remained still as he took photos of her cum-covered face, wishing she could wipe herself clean, but knowing that was not what he wanted. Her tongue snaked out, licking off what she could reach, and she tried to open her eyes. She managed the left eye, albeit with a silvery strand obscuring her vision. The right eye, however, was totally covered and better kept shut.

Eventually, after what seemed an age, but was actually less than a minute, he stopped. With her one open eye, she saw him smile. He reached down and gently, caringly, wiped her other eye, placing his cum-covered finger in her mouth. She licked it clean quickly and willingly. Then he bent and kissed her on the lips.

The loving gesture surprised her. Previously, those who had dominated her showed no such affection - she was their 'bitch' - and once sex was over, she had been abandoned. This, it seemed, would be different. He had his own cum on his face - she thought he would hate that - and as she watched, ran his finger round and pushed it into his mouth. Then he smiled.

"Well. If it's good enough for you, it's good enough for me."

Her heart raced. She felt genuinely happy. How had he changed so much? Or had he? Could it be that she had simply not listened? Seeing him clean off the semen which had transferred from her face to his, she decided to replicate his gesture. There was far more cum on her, of course, but she ran her finger around, gathering up as much of the gelatinous fluid as possible, shoving it in her mouth and swallowing.

"You'd better go and clean up," he smiled, "have a quick wash and come and sit down again."

While Chris wiped himself clean with a tissue from a box on a side table, Kay popped to the bathroom, rinsing her face and mopping up any of her own liquids which had run across her thighs and buttocks. She could shower later, or in the morning. For now, she was happy to keep the scents of sex on her and not break the momentum of the evening.

When she returned, he was sitting on the sofa, sprawled, relaxed. She had half-expected him to be dressed, but he remained naked, happy for her to look at him. She had stayed naked too, and sat on the sofa, not sure how close he wanted her to be. Oddly, he seemed more relaxed than her - yet it was the first time he had had sex (with another person) in a couple of years, while she had been doing so regularly.

He smiled and patted the sofa beside him. "Come and sit here. We can cuddle if you want to."

She did. Desperately. She had wanted to for ages. She knew now that Chris had withdrawn from her when he discovered her infidelity, and tonight's sex, and physical affection, was a sign that he could move past it.

She shuffled along the fabric, probably leaving a trail of her juices, until her thigh touched his. He extended an arm around her shoulders and she rested her head on his chest.

"Your handjobs have improved," he observed. She was unsure how to take this. She could just say 'thank you', but was there a sub-text? Was he saying that someone other than him had taught her? She contented herself with a nod of her head. "That's good," he continued, "just be careful you don't finish me off too fast." He laughed.

"Hopefully, I'll find out if your blowjobs have improved as well."

His voice was mild, no hint that he was annoyed. She decided to 'test the water'.

"I hope so," she mumbled, "I know I was pretty crap at both before. With hands, I just rubbed the shaft, and with my mouth, I just took it in and sucked. I just want you to enjoy it now."

"Me too," he reassured her. "So, what sort of things do you enjoy? I know we used to take photos, make videos, do the exhibitionism on cam - almost started swinging - but what do you really like? I know I said I want to enjoy my things, but I want you to enjoy it too. I don't want you to think I'm forcing you into anything."