Forbidden, Unrequited

That initially being my intention, the ornery part of me decided that, since she was expecting it, I’d do just the opposite. I squeezed some shampoo into my hand and began scrubbing my own head.

After a minute or so, Rhonda, not feeling my fingers in her hair, opened her eyes to see what I was doing. When she saw me washing myself instead of her, she playfully punched me in the arm, saying, “You bum.” My eyes opened at that and I met Rhonda’s smile with my own.

Laughing, I made sure I wasn’t going to end up with soap in my eyes, then started shampooing my wife’s hair. A soft purr came from her throat as I scrubbed her hair, digging down with my fingertips to massage her scalp. After two shampoos, then conditioning, her hair was done. I took a quick break to grab the showerhead (thank god for hand-helds) and got my own hair rinsed.

Now it was time to get down to real business. Rhonda handed me one of those poofy-scrubby things she likes using in the shower, but I was having none of that. I wanted to feel her body under my fingers, with nothing in the way but water and soap.

Rhonda’s skin felt wonderful, as always, and I lavished attention to her face and neck, enjoying the sounds of satisfaction she made.

As you can imagine, I lingered a long time on her breasts. I’m always amazed when I take them in my hands... how heavy they are, yet how soft. As well, I still find it surprising amid all that softness, how stiff her nipples get, sometimes with little provocation. It’s always a wonder to me how sensitive those nipples are, and how aroused my playing with them can get her. A major portion of my fascination with her nipples is the fact that mine aren’t very sensitive at all; at least, once other things get worked up, the feelings down there are so intense that I can barely feel anything anywhere else.

At this moment thought, my wife was feeling plenty. I’d managed to caress and knead and pinch her sensitive breasts enough that I’d just added more fuel to the fire of her arousal.

And I wasn’t finished yet.

Regretfully leaving her breasts, my hands washed and stroked their way down her body till they came to another favorite of mine. I think you can figure out where *that* is.

Rhonda gasped, then moaned as I ran soapy fingers up and down the sides of her pussy, all the while digging my thumb into the enflamed nub of her clit. Another advantage to familiarity… I knew just how far I could take her before getting her off, and I did that twice, each time backing off just about the time her orgasm was ready to roar through her.

So, through careful manipulation, I had quite the collection of quivering nerves in my hands when I pushed two fingers into Rhonda’s silky-slick pussy. I’ll tell you, there was no resistance to my invading fingers, and it wasn’t entirely due to the water and soap.

I didn’t spend too much time fingering her firey wet hole – I didn’t necessarily want her cumming quite yet. Even though I knew Rhonda would happily have let go, since I was presently in control, I wanted things to last.

Next, I pulled her close and rubbed myself against her for a little bit, then started scrubbing her back and shoulders. Ideally, it would have been more efficient to turn her around, but I liked it better like this. While she pressed against me, I ran my soapy hands over her skin, digging in as best I could to give her a slight massage.

Rhonda was beyond words, beyond almost anything but sensation. She was lost in the vibrations running through her body, and the continuing sensation I was causing. When my hands reached her butt, I took each cheek in a hand and squeezed gently, enjoying the round pliability of her ass. Her eyes snapped open and a surprised gasp escaped her lips when I wiggled a finger up her tight little butt hole. The shock was swiftly replaced with a purr of satisfaction as she became used to the penetration. One day, I hoped I’d be able to get something larger up there, but after twenty years… I sighed quietly then continued on.

Next and last were her legs and feet. My wife never believes me when I compliment her on legs. I just wish she could see things from my side once. I simply love the sight of her in one of her little short lounge robes... you know the type, where the hem falls just below the woman’s butt? This leaves the entire leg exposed, and I don’t know about anybody else, but I think it makes them appear particularly sexy. And that’s not even to mention when she wears a garter belt... oh my!

I finished Rhonda’s legs, then straightened and guided her back under the water to rinse off, then removed the shower head and finished the job.

That taken care of, it was now my turn. While I hoped Rhonda would reciprocate, a look at her face told me she was too wrapped up in her own body for the moment to give me much help.

I wasn’t too put out by that fact. I mean, I hadn’t gone soft the whole time I’d been washing her. Previous experience told me that when she came out of her stupor, she’d be a sexual wildcat. I could hardly wait.

Taking up the soap again, I started washing myself, paying close attention to the spots that typically take the most washing. A thrill went through me when I soaped up my cock, but after earlier in the day, when I came this time, I wanted to give it to my wife.

When I bent over to wash my legs, I straightened to find that Rhonda had taken the showerhead out of its holder and had pressed it to her pussy, letting the spray of water stimulate her clit. Watching the look on her face, I felt a flash of envy for at least that one aspect of being a woman.

Rhonda let out a whimper when I reached out and took the showerhead away from her so I could rinse. While I got the soap off, I suddenly felt hands on my cock and balls. Apparently Rhonda had come out of her haze, and I saw in her face an arousal like I hadn’t seen in months.

Now was my turn to moan. I deliberately took my time rising off so I could fully enjoy the sensations my wife was causing by her manipulation of my privates. She liked playing with my cock and balls as much as I liked playing with her tits and pussy. And I certainly liked the fact that she liked it.

It was just as well that we were both clean now. The water had started cooling down about halfway through my rinse-off, and by the time I was done, it was verging on downright cold. That being the case, I had Rhonda shut the water off, then proceeded to get us both out of there to get dried off.

We had fun trying to dry each other. I always find that more difficult than the washing bit. Maybe it’s the extra instrument you have to try to coordinate, but drying never seems to be as arousing as the wet stuff. Nevertheless, we managed to get each other as dry as possible, then finished up on our own.

After we’d hung up our towels, once more we were in each other’s arms. For a moment, I thought about what a perfect fit our bodies were, then abandoned thought for just savoring the moment.

It seemed like we were nineteen again. We couldn’t keep our hands off one another then, either. We’d both ended up at the same local college, and Rhonda continued to get into theatrical endeavors, while, just to stay near, I again worked stage crew. The plays were little more than glorified high school productions – the college had no “theater department” – but there were a couple of instructors who thought it good PR for a liberal arts college to have some representation by the fine arts.

There was one time in particular that bears relating. The show was “Camelot.” There being only one big woman’s role, the other girls ended up in the chorus, which was fine, it meant Rhonda didn’t have to learn a bunch of lines, she just had to learn the music and a few simple dance steps and she was ready to go.

Of course, during the second night of the show, we both got in big trouble for coming up missing during the song, “The Lusty Month of May.” How we missed it was simple: we were up in the catwalks above the stage in a quickie 69. So, Rhonda missed the big chorus number, and I wasn’t there to help set the stage for the next scene. Fortunately, that song’s pretty rambunctious. Even so, we tried to stay as quiet as possible.

Oh, that implies a first time, doesn’t it? Yes, we had a first time, but it was as unfulfilling as the majority of those youthful losses of virginity. The nerves are strung so tight that nothing works properly, and as is pretty standard, I hadn’t even managed to get inside her before I was cumming all over her pussy. I liked the look of her cunt with my jizz on it, but it wasn’t too fulfilling for Rhonda, and I was too embarrassed to have gotten much real pleasure out of it, either. Feeling guilty, I did give Rhonda an orgasm, fumbling a little while she directed, using my semen as lubricant, rubbing her clit with my fingers. Needless to say, we tried again, making that summer before college pretty memorable for the two of us.

Anyhow, about twenty-four years later, here we were, standing naked in each other’s arms, a home together and a daughter we were both extremely proud of, and lives that, for the most part, were very happy.

I could feel the tension in Rhonda’s body, telling me she was still wound up from our little shower escapade. Reaching down between us, I slipped a hand into her crotch and twitched a finger across her clit, causing a moan and a shiver.

Suddenly, Rhonda pulled away from me and grabbed my cock, then started out of the bathroom. I didn’t follow right away, even though I knew what she wanted, and fortunately she didn’t have a tight grip, because she just went without looking to see if I was coming along.

I did come after her, knowing she wanted what I wanted, but instead of turning right, to the bedroom, she went left, toward the living room. The last time we’d had sex somewhere in the house *other* than the bedroom was a few years earlier, when Donna had been staying with her grandmother for a week. Rhonda and I made love in practically every room in the house, excepting the attic, and including the garage.

When I reached the living room, I found Rhonda stretched out on the sofa, her legs spread wantonly, showing me how wet her pussy was. She was obviously very excited, but instead of wanting me inside her right away, she sat up and patted the seat next to her.

“Sit down, Baby. I want to do something for you.”

Well, I had an idea what she had in mind, so I sat in the spot indicated without any argument. Plopping myself down on the couch, Rhonda hopped up, then sat on the floor in front of me and pushed my legs apart. Now I *really* knew what she had planned. My hard on pulsed in anticipation.

There was no preliminary, no teasing up my thigh or light fingernails down my belly, no fondling or kissing, just one quick gulp and I was in her mouth.

I damn near hit the ceiling. Rhonda’s mouth on my cock hadn’t felt so good in ages. She went at her task like she was starving, and I was the lucky recipient of her hunger. She alternated between taking me deep in her mouth and down her throat (is that really possible?) and just taking the tip between her lips and teasing with her tongue.

Rhonda regularly downplays her oral abilities, but I have to continuously tell her, when she’s in one of those moods, that what she does to me is beyond words. I again wish there was some way for us to trade places so she could find out just how good it actually feels.

For almost ten minutes, I’ll bet, she held the head, or just the tip of my cock in her mouth while her tongue flickered over it. That maddening sensation was intensified when she slipped the tip of her tongue into the slit at the end. All I could do is moan. God, I loved this woman and the things she could do to me. She didn’t work her hand up and down the shaft, essentially giving me a handjob while sucking me, she just wrapped her fingers around it, enhancing the sensation of being enveloped.

So there I sat, being deliciously tormented by my wife, forcing myself to keep my hips still and let her do whatever she wanted to.

Another of the benefits of familiarity: What I knew of her, she knew of me.

Rhonda knew that even as intense as it got with her working me the way she was, without that hand stroking along with her sucking, teasing mouth, it was unlikely I was going to cum. Therefore, she knew she was whipping me into as great a frenzy as I’d done for her in the shower.

Suddenly, there was the added sensation of her fingers caressing my balls. Now, I love having my balls played with. They’re really sensitive, probably a lot like my wife’s nipples, and feeling Rhonda’s fingers and lips on them always puts me in a horny state of mind.

With Rhonda’s hand holding firmly around my cock, her lips teasing the head and tip and her other hand gently stroking and fondling my balls, it felt like I might be able to cum after all. The sensation started in my lower thighs and belly, and the orgasmic thrill started to course through me. Just as I was reaching the point of no return, Rhonda sat back with a shit-eating grin of triumph.

A wail of protest was ripped from my throat. I was nearly out of breath, my body vibrated, I was starting to sweat. What was she *doing?* Her little smirk of satisfaction told me, “If it’s good for the goose...” She was getting me back for in the shower, getting her that close and then backing off... Twice!

My body was screaming. Here I was, horny as I think I’d ever been, and the beautiful, sexy woman that was my wife was sitting there before me, naked and satisfied that two could play the teasing game.

Well, I certainly wasn’t going to stand for her smugness. I stood up from where I sat and picked her up off the floor, something I’d never done before, and tossed her on the sofa, and in a single plunge, was in her sopping pussy to the hilt.

I was a wild man. The only thing I could think of was getting off. And Rhonda had already started. As soon as my cock stretched her excited pussy, she began cumming. I wasn’t too far behind. I thrust into her a good half dozen times or so before I was yelling my head off, too. It’s a good thing the air was on and the windows closed, or the whole neighborhood would have known what we were up to. At that point, I wouldn’t have much cared. I was too fucking horny to give a shit what anybody else thought.

Our orgasms seemed to last a good long time. I know mine did, and Rhonda's capable of cumming for what seems ages, so she probably orgasmed for maybe two minutes straight. Eventually, though, the frenzy dissipated, and I collapsed, exhausted, on top of my wife.

I don't know how long we lay there panting, but slowly I realized that if I was breathing this hard, Rhonda must merely be *trying*, with me laying on her like this, so I rolled off her (which took me to the floor) allowing her the opportunity to breathe.

Sitting on the floor, I snuggled up as well as I could, but it really sucked trying to get comfortable, and I couldn't hold onto her properly, so I suggested we retire to the bedroom.

Rhonda wheezed, "Why do you think we haven't done this out here lately?" I had my theories, but I actually wasn't going to voice them at that juncture.

I stood on rubber legs and held my hands out. Rhonda took them and I pulled her up from the couch. She laughed, "I don't know if I can do this. I don't have any bones left." This was a common statement after she'd had a huge orgasm. I considered it a great compliment.

I half carried my wife to the bedroom. I wrapped one arm around her waist, grabbed her hip and held her up that way, since due to a height difference, trying to support her the traditional way would have killed my knees. If I could have, I'd have carried her, but my earlier adrenaline-testosterone rush aside, that wasn't in the cards.

In the bedroom, we both flopped down on the bed. As I felt myself drifting off, a thought came to me.

When I got up, Rhonda's head popped up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'll be right back." A few seconds later, I returned.

Climbing on the bed, I started to spread Rhonda's legs. Weakly, though not truly in protest, she cried, "Again?"

I laughed quietly, "Not right now. Just spread."

Rhonda's legs slowly parted and once again I was treated to the sight of her gorgeous pussy, now soaked with both our juices. There was a small puddle beneath her on the bed, and unlike earlier, I had cum a lot this time, the evidence was oozing from her loosened slit.

Now, I've read stories of creampies before, and before I knew what it was, I tried it once. In the right frame of mind, it's not terrible, but it definitely isn't a flavor I'd want on a regular basis. No, I wasn't about to do that now. While I really liked seeing my cum seep out of my wife's hot cunt, I'd gone out and gotten in this position for a completely different reason.

I grabbed the towel I'd brought from the bathroom and mopped up the cum that Rhonda's pussy kept releasing. I didn't want to be blamed for making her sleep in the "wet spot" if I could help it.

When I finished cleaning her up, I told Rhonda to lift up her butt, then slipped another towel under her in case I'd missed anything. Not exactly the most romantic thing to do, but she didn't seem to mind.

That taken care of, I resumed my place beside her and we curled up to wind down together.

The more relaxed I got, the more earlier events of the day encroached on my thoughts. After a while, I was tense again, but not for the reason I'd been a few minutes earlier. Rhonda sensed the change and asked, "Is something wrong?"

Now my mind was all a-boil once more. The guilt from that morning came flooding in, and I knew I wouldn't be able to rest till I'd gotten it off my chest. The problem was, I was terrified for how Rhonda would take it. For a while, I couldn't bring myself to say anything.

Finally, I worked up the courage to begin.

"Rhonda?"

"Yes, Matt?"

"I have a confession to make."

She hesitated, obviously wondering what I could have done that was so horrible. "Okay."

For a moment, I wondered how to put it, then just said, "You know our daughter, Donna?"

Rhonda laughed a little. "Of course."

"This morning after you left, I was heading for the bedroom. I bumped into Donna coming out after her shower..."

"So?"

A beat. "I reacted."

Rhonda laughed a little louder. "Well, of course you did. I wouldn't expect you to just go on like nothing happened."

I stopped her. "No, you don't understand. I reacted... physically."

There was a little confusion in Rhonda's voice when she spoke. Apparently I wasn't making much sense. "You hit her?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I... got hard."

The light started to come on. "You mean you..."

Before she could complete that thought, I confirmed, "Yes, I did."

Now Rhonda got quiet. I braced myself for an explosion from jumping to a wrong conclusion. Fortunately, though, that explosion never happened. There was a terrified hush in her voice when she asked, "You didn't..."

Once again, I interrupted before she could complete her thought, "Of course not. I could never do that."

I was grateful for our years together that she believed me. That trust was a valuable asset to our being able to get by all these years. There was still a huge part of me that was afraid - even though there had been trust all this time - that the possibility I might be lying would rear its ugly head, especially concerning a subject like this.

The longer Rhonda was silent, the worse my anxiety became. Was she going to believe me, that I wasn't capable of doing the horrible thing that my words implied, or would she opt for the worst scenario? I couldn't tell by her expression what she was thinking, so there was no way to decipher what might be running through her mind. I'd never lied before about big stuff, feeling that the more important an event or decision might be, the more important it was to be up-front about it. For the most part, I considered myself a pretty honest guy. I hoped my wife still thought so.