First Affair Ch. 02

At the tick of appointed clock, I drove my husband Karl's top-down British Racing Green Mazda Miata convertible right up to the Welcome Center at the hotel. Rex was waiting alongside a porter. Both approached my car: Rex beaming and porter lugging a two small wicker baskets and a blanket. Rex directed that the picnic be fitted behind the seats. He knew one large picnic basket would never fit: so thoughtful! Rex asked if I needed anything from my overnight bag. No, so Rex handed it to the bellhop. Rex asked to drive and I did not mind. All I got was a peck on the cheek and off we went.

Our capital is on the smaller side, so in no time we were in the rolling hills, heading nowhere. Below 50 mph, we could talk, so we cruised the back roads. I told Rex Karl and I had met in college, him on an ROTC Air Force scholarship. We tied the knot the following graduation. He made a career in the Air Force. I talked about the strains of being a teacher, a military wife. Now Karl had his car, his garage, his extensive fishing gear, and his service-related groups. He is president of a large retired officers association and sometimes travels. He refused to call his room a man-cave, thinking it vulgar. I had my sewing, my kitchen, my ancestry research. Karl and I shared household and yard duties. Neither liked to garden. We have always had a pool service and maid service. Life was good. As I told Rex last night, we do not go out enough. Karl and I both were getting a little stale. Rex asked if we were financially secure and I said that I think so; Karl does the bills. That got a "hmm", his only response to my description of a thirty-year marriage.

Rex suggested that we find a quiet place for a picnic. I recalled a grassy area, with a stand of trees, north of town. Karl and I had not been there for a while. The place is secluded, quiet and not well known. When the interstate was built, the road became a dead-end, accessible to those who don't mind an adventurous series of dips, hills and hairpins. I was sure the teenagers use it at night, but daytime deserted. Karl started to refuse to drive the last mile of dusty dirt road, concerned about damage to his vehicle. Rex had already proven his ability to handle the s-curves. We took the road less traveled, even though it was dirt and gravel. I didn't catch the connection between Rex using Karl's pride-and-joy car with Rex's using me as well. The glade was remote. Perfect.

Rex is from 'out west', he said. His wife passed away ten years ago and he threw himself into his work, a field that was non-existent a few years. He lived alone: his black lab had to be put down this past December and he was shopping around for another pet, but she had to be 'perfect'.

Rex had a concern that he would only share if I promised to try to understand. I said I would try. It seems that this trip to our military-industrial based capital was more than a convention for him. If things worked out, he could be transferred here as part of his company's larger plans. How would Karl adjust to having a wife with a lover? Karl did not hesitate to loan me Rex last night. He had been pillow talking about sharing me for a while. I know he visited those wife-swapping picture and movie websites, as well as his browsing the on-line ads. Would Karl ever let me do something like that? Could our marriage survive?

Ever interested in my thoughts, Rex asked me about last night. Did I enjoy it? I said I loved it, had not felt so alive in years. Rex brought out the animal in me. However, I said that when he demanded that I tell him that his dick was bigger, better than Karl's, I was startled. I went along with the ruse because I really was enjoying myself and I was not going to stop. Rex said he understood and we can talk about it anytime.

We spread the picnic blanket under the trees, in the shade. We shared one Panini and drank a whole bottle of Krug Grand Cuvee. I had never tasted a twenty-year old champagne. Rex knows his wine: he said it was the difference between fresh tuna and tuna in a can. Neither of us wanted to over-stuff ourselves, so most of the lunch was saved for later.

By the time Rex served the dessert salad, we were in direct sunlight. I said I was getting warm and asked that we move into the new shade. Rex countered with a wish to see my tits by sunlight. "Only if I can see that beautiful prick of yours with those magnificent balls glowing in the sun as well." My pussy was next to be bargained for. He won.

The sequence of events that happened next should happen to everyone at least once. I don't consider myself an exhibitionist or nudist or nature-lover. Yet to relax on your back and bathe all-over in direct sunlight, feeling the breeze, the adoring gaze of another one's body is a pleasure I never knew existed. I opened my genitals to the world, and Rex. The music of the insects, the sound a stray airplane flying overhead, the birds chattering, the hum of traffic in the distance created a cone of privacy, just for us.

Rex must have felt something similar, because he began to get aroused. He told me to roll over. The voice was a tad more demanding than I thought necessary, given the situation, but I complied. Now my bare ass was in plain view. He stroked my shoulders, rubbing his fingers down my spine. When he grazed the sides of my tits, my whole body felt it and thirsted for more. Either the wine or the sun or the mood sent me into a state of complete relaxation, submission. Rex knelt behind me and spread my legs. I knew what was going to happen. I raised myself onto my knees and buried my head in the blanket. Rex must have licked his fingers because when they came into contact with my outer lips, I shuddered. Gently, gently he stroked my upturned pussy. He said he promised himself last night, when we were in a 69, that he was going to memorize every fold, every little piece of my cunt. I flinched when he said, "cunt". He sensed that and, again, more sternly than necessary, said "It is a cunt. A cunt that needs to be fucked."

I said no more; I enjoyed the attention. Two fingers went into my vagina and probed for my g-spot. I unashamedly wiggled my ass. They don't call it doggy-style for no reason! Then a finger in my asshole. Oops, maybe that went going too far. I crawled forward a bit as a hint for him to remove that finger. He moved up as well and inserted two fingers into my ass. I relaxed, let him have his way.

Rex had this fingering style of massaging my hood, moving across it with a wet finger. He must have gone to the gym and learned about any exercise needing ten reps. Finally, he uncovered my clitoris and pulled. He told me it was a woman's counterpart to a man's dick. If so, I saw why Karl and Rex liked me to rub the underside of the head. Rex was jerking me off!

He sensed that I was ready. He approached me with that long, thick pole. Last night, Rex had said his nickname in college was Beer Can. Karl drinks the 16 ounce Budweiser that his friends call 'man beers'. So forever, Rex's nickname to me was going to be 'Manbeer'. He slipped it in and I could feel my vaginal opening stretching to accept him. He shoved and suddenly he was all the way inside me. He gripped my hipbones and sawed his dick up and down (how many reps I do not know), then sideways. I was close. He pulled out. I thrust back at him. "Who has a bigger dick, me or Karl?" Stupid question, but I answered. We resumed. I was close again. "Who fucks you better?" Again, stupid question at the moment, but I answered. "Who owns this pussy?" I knew Rex did and I admitted it. I yelled, "Just keep fucking, God dammit!" I am sure my climax had caused a major earthquake somewhere, probably in China on the other side of the world.

Rex was not through. He dismounted and got on his hands and knees. He told me to lie down and put my face between his knees, both our bodies pointing in one direction. This put me looking right up at his dangling balls and still hard dick. I was to suck it, pull on it, even bend it backwards, jerk it, suck it some more. His long, thick shaft was glistening with our juices. I did as I was told and was rewarded with fast spurts of cum. I tried to turn my head to avoid the shots, but Rex moved his knees together to trap my head. He told me to put the dick in my mouth and swallow it all. There would be no discussion. I put Manbeer in my mouth, locked my lips around the large bulb and accepted his cum. I swallowed twice and a sticky stream ran down my cheek. Rex opened his knees and wiped his hot dick across my cheeks, back and forth. "Put it back in your mouth," he ordered. His dick was getting soft, so I could relax my jaw and get most of it in. Rex stretched and lowered his body onto my face, crushing my head, mouth full of his dick. He shook, wiggled, fucked my face with a soft dick. When he rose up, I slurped his shaft like a large wet noodle. Then he went down again, up again. This part of copulation was not truly a turn-on for me, but if he liked it, I would do it every day, from now on. We eventually decoupled and spooned on the blanket until I felt the sun burning me in places that had not seen radiation in a long time. We moved the blankets into the shade, got our tops on.

I am not into water sports, but after our bout, I had to pee. I discreetly went to the other side of the large oak tree. Rex had to go too. He was unashamed; he sighed, aimed his stream at the trunk of the tree and let go. If I thought that he had cum buckets moments ago, he also pissed a long stream. He felt proud to be able to shoot it to almost eye-level. I was not going to compete or compare.

Strangely, I began to think of Karl. Would he have entered a pissing contest with Rex? Who would win? Rex's verbal bantering and teasing during sex was new to me. Some women like to be called slut and whore, maybe worse. I found the words distracting. I had a real choice here: refuse Rex's coital demands for the spoken words of his prowess: if I did, I'd risk ending this right now. I could acquiesce in practice, if not in reality. What I told him was true: he was bigger and fucked better. Would Karl ever go for such an arrangement? Maybe so, maybe not.

Rex broke my concentration. I needn't have worried. Rex is so skilled at reading body language, he brought it up.

"You have a choice to make. You know that what you said is true and that you are going to have to work on Karl to accept the inevitable. Your pussy is already getting accustomed to my girth. Within a few weeks, you will be able to deep-throat me and take me in your ass. You will admit that your cunt belongs to me. If we part friends now, you will find another lover. I want to continue to see you and to do that, we will have to convince Karl that he must accept your sexuality the way it is. I own your cunt, will continue to call it what it is, and use my cunt as I see fit."

The next few minutes were tense. I was weighing my options. Would Karl agree to any arrangement that let me keep seeing Rex? I had to speak with my husband, hear his voice. In a way, I missed him and wanted him to share in my joy. Rex sensed my desire to communicate with my mate. He said that a husband who shared his wife expected to be included in the romance in some way. Wives call their husbands after sex; that is not unusual. I dialed his number: Not in Service! Strange. Did Karl block my calls? Would Karl do something rash? Not likely. He was a former Air Force pilot who spent twenty years squiring military officials all over the world. Calm and steady, unflappable. Our marriage (until now) was safe, albeit not exciting (until now). Rex offered his cellphone. I declined. He asked what our carrier was; his was the same. He dialed Customer Service and handed the phone to me. The operator had a weird accent, maybe British or South African, or maybe trying to affect a foreign accent. My account had been frozen. She could help and offer service until the next business day, but it would take a few hours to reset the number. Sigh. Time to adjourn.

When Rex fired up the Miata, the radio came on to that oldies station we listen to. Oh my God! I recognizes the intro to "Torn Between Two Lovers" . For those people not familiar with the song, it was an address from a woman to her man, explaining that she had met someone who touched her where he never could. Back in the Seventies, I thought it absurd. Rex was oblivious. He hummed along. Maybe he was deaf, or tone-deaf.

Rex reached his hand over and pulled on my nipple as he drove. When we got closer to civilization, he moved down to my pussy. I was still wet. Thumb and forefinger attacked my hood and he jerked me off. I opened my legs and humped his hand. He drove the Mazda right into the hotel parking garage; he tried to finish me off there. Nope!

We held hands all the way into the lobby. Rex reached up and kissed my hand and offered his left hand to me to kiss. I smelt a slight aroma (me), but not an offensive one. We strolled into the lobby. We passed the same couple from the elevator last night and they both smiled and wished us a happy second anniversary. Rex swooped me up in his arms and started to kiss me. He whispered that my mouth tasted like cum. I grabbed him by the ears and gave him a deep kiss and they whispered in his ear that he tasted good. The couple enjoyed our twenty-second romance and walked on. The suite wasn't ready yet.

While Rex spoke with the concierge, my eyes wandered around the lobby. A valet was changing the spaghetti board. That rectangular lined black felt pad on a stand was used to announce upcoming events. The white letters in the little boxes looked like spaghetti, hence the name. 9:00 AM Monday Main Dining Room, Reginald Gold, President of SPYS, Invitation Only.

We sat on a comfortable sofa in the lobby while room was being readied. "So, tell me, Rex, are you the President of SPYS?" Yes, he was. The Society of Professional Yeggs. Being an English teacher and crossword enthusiast, I knew that a yegg was a safecracker. I needed an explanation.

Rex said that his company does industrial and commercial surveillance. He said that organizations pay well for information that is highly useful. His corporation gathered data from credit card purchases, frequent flier numbers, social media, church groups, and clubs and mostly anywhere a digital fingerprint was seen. Rex's computers watched millions of ordinary citizens for extraordinary behaviors. For instance, last year, he flagged a Texas high school principal who had ordered two hand-made suits from Hong Kong. The chap usually shops upscale stores, but this was unusual. The principal changed his family's vacation flight to Europe to first class. His cell phone records showed thirty-minute stops at four BMW, Audi and Mercedes dealerships. Rex learned that his doctoral thesis was on revamping the textbook purchasing system for the state. His college roommate was a vice-president of a book publisher. Although he had made no contact with his chum for a dozen years, there were four calls placed recently. Rex guessed correctly that the guy was being considered for a lucrative position on the Textbook Advisory Board. A publisher with a commissioner in its pocket would be a coup. Rex exposed the plot. The courts have yet to decide whether the money tendered by his college chum was a bribe, because he had not yet been nominated. Another publisher paid us well to ensure the principal was not appointed.

The room was ready.