Libido Awakened Ch. 01

This is my story. My name is, well, never mind what my name is, that isn't important. Suffice it to say that I am an average, ordinary woman. Or, at least I was. I am in my late thirties, married. I'm really nothing to look at: five and a half feet tall, brown shoulder length hair, breasts nothing to write home about: smallish, slight sag. Just your typical "lady next door." Brad is my husband and works too much and is often out of town for business. Hopefully, within a year or so, he should be promoted and have a regular schedule, no travel and more money. Then we will have a baby (or two), like we had talked about. Then I would quit my job, or at least cut back to part time to raise our family, and Brad would be around on weekends to help out. At least, that's what the plan was. That had been the plan for a few years now. I thought we had a happy marriage but looking back I would say it was successful but not happy. I mean, it wasn't unhappy, just, well, no spark left on the romantic side. We've been married for over ten years now; doesn't everybody lose the spark after that long? But we had other things going for us. He seemed to be moving up the corporate ladder and we weren't too bad off. And we had a pretty nice house in a pretty good neighborhood. Anyway, life had been going on, in a boring sort of way till that one fateful night that changed everything.

Brad was out of town in yet another business trip. These trips seemed to keep increasing to the point where he might get one weekend home a month. This was his second consecutive weekend out of town and I was really depressed. Not that we were all that intimate when he was around, I just missed the company around the house. It was Friday night and I couldn't take the loneliness any more. I called some of my girlfriends and we met for drinks. Since I was in no hurry to return to my empty house, I stayed out late. And drank. And drank some more. I'm no drinker, so it didn't take much to get me pretty wasted. I shouldn't have gotten behind the wheel, and I knew it, but I was only a couple of blocks from home. A good song came on the 80s station and I was dancing in my car seat and I was so distracted I almost missed my street. I turned at the last second and over steered too much, as well as driving too fast. My car screeched and headed straight for my neighbor's yard. I turned the opposite direction, but not before careening into the fence, splinters flying. I guided my car along his yard, then mine, into the driveway. "Oh Shit!" I cursed. I saw John, my neighbor coming out to see what was the matter. John just moved in next door within the past year, mid to late 20s and single. He's on the quiet side, average height, kind of nerdy looking. But not altogether ugly, just ordinary. He came out, looked at his fence, and then approached my vehicle. I slowly pushed the door open and went to step out but lost my balance and fell flat on my face. God, I must be drunker than I thought. He helped me up and I pleaded with him, "I'm so sorry. Really sorry."

"Are you OK?" he asked, still holding my arm, supporting me. "I'm fine. But look at your fence. I'm so sorry. Please don't tell Brad; I'll do anything. I'll pay for a new one." I was almost begging.

"Don't worry about the fence. I'm sure the insurance will cover it," he said nonchalantly. Brad would go through the roof if he found out. Especially if I was drinking. And that was the only way to explain how I could have possibly driven through his fence. I couldn't let Brad know about this, if at all possible. "No!" I shouted, "If you make a claim, then he'll be sure to find out. I'll do anything, ANYTHING, just don't tell Brad!" I urged him, no doubt, slurring my words, my face inches from his.

"Well, it's not that big of deal. I'll keep a secret," he casually said. Clearly, it was no big deal to him. I gave him my number and told him to call me tomorrow so we could work something out. I was so glad that it was HIS fence I hit. I could just imagine what some of our other neighbors would do, especially seeing how drunk I was.

I awoke Saturday morning with a killer hangover, and was piecing together what happened the night prior. To make matters worse, it was Saturday and I had to go in to work. I rushed to get ready and as I got in my car to take off, I saw the scuffs on the care and John's wrecked fence. "I guess I didn't dream it," I muttered to myself. My day dragged on forever at work. But at least by lunch my hangover seemed to be almost gone. I decided that I would take a hot bath and relax for the rest of the weekend, and wait for Brad to come home late Sunday. I walked in my front door and before I had a chance to hand my jacket up, the phone rang. It was John. He wanted to discuss financial arrangements about his fence. I told him I would be right over. My relaxing day was to be put on hold. I thought about changing but then decided against it. I figured my business attire—white dress shirt, tan skirt, hose and conservative two-inch heels—might make a good impression on him. I prayed it wouldn't cost me a lot.

He answered the door and invited me in and we sat on a couch in his family room to discuss repayment. "Thanks for being so understanding. And again, I apologize," I started off. "How much is it going to be? I don't have a lot of money on me, but we could work something out, payments or something," I said.

"I thought maybe we could take it out in trade. You did say 'I'll do anything' right?"

"Oh. What exactly did you have in mind?" I innocently inquired.

"You spending the night," he bluntly replied, with a half smile. I thought it was a joke. I saw he was serious.

"You mean you want me to have sex with you—then we're even?" I asked, feeling my tummy twist into a knot.

"No. Not sex. And not just once. You spend the night here and give yourself over to me, body, mind, soul. For the entire evening. Here's the deal. You do that, beginning now, or you go home and I file a claim, in which case your dear hubby is sure to find out. And if he asks, I won't lie about anything. Now which is it?" I was shocked, by mouth open, dumbfounded. If Brad did find out, he'd go through the roof. Probably take my car away, make me quit my job, which is my only independence. I couldn't bear that. But how could I give myself over to John, someone I barely knew? I weighed both in my head. I remained silence for what seemed like an eternity. My head was throbbing, the knot in my stomach twisting tighter. All I could come up with is that if I did give myself to him, it would be for the night then over. Whereas the other scenario could go on for a long time. But what about this neighbor I barely knew. Would he hurt me? Was he into S &M?

"If I do stay, could you guarantee nothing kinky? And after tonight, it's over?" I questioned him, hesitantly.

"I swear, nothing freaky and tomorrow morning it's over. I swear." He sounded sincere.

I paused for what seemed like another eternity. "OK. I'll do it," I softly said, feeling like I had sold my soul. I would let him have me—somehow, I would get through it and tomorrow it would be over.

He led my reluctant body to his bedroom. "You know, I have fantasized about you since the day I first saw you," he softly said to me. He went to kiss me but I turned my head away. He can have my body but I could do let him kiss me on the lips. It was too personal. I just couldn't. He caressed my cheek, reached his hands around to the back of my neck and unsnapped my jaw clip, releasing my hair, falling to my shoulders. His lips now went to my neck, lightly kissing. I was frozen, unable to move. I couldn't believe I was doing this. I felt his hands slowly unbuttoning my blouse. His kissing moved down my neck to my shoulder, sending shivers down my back. Then across my throat to my other shoulder. He pushed my blouse open, and then slowly guided one sleeve off my arm then the other, letting the blouse fall to the floor. He then took a step back and took me in—his eyes tracing the outline of my bra, a look of wonderment on his face. His hands went to my sides, warm and soft, sending slight shivers through my body. He sat me on the edge of his bed. He slowly brought his arms up to my underarms and his thumbs slipped under my bra straps and slowly pushed them over the sides of my shoulders. He kissed my neck again and went down, slowly. As his lips caressed me, he slowly pushed me back on to the bed as he lightly kissed the tops of my breasts. His hands slid underneath my back and unhooked my bra, ever so slowly lifting it from my body. He looked down at my nude torso, my nipples hardening in the chilly air. Or was it from the chills from inside my body? His left hand covered a breast and gently massaged it while he brought his face to the other, kissing first around the base then working his way up my demure peaks before finally reaching the hardened summit. His warms lips made it grow even more erect and then he opened mouth kissed it, sending small shocks of electricity through my body. His hot, wet tongue felt wonderful and then he every once in a while gently bit my nipple, sending shockwaves through my body. How could I be enjoying this? I couldn't let on that I was. But my breathing was already heavy. As he switched to other breast, I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. I felt exposed, this almost stranger being intimate with my body, and I was embarrassed. I closed my eyes, subconsciously thinking that if I couldn't see him, he couldn't see me. With my eyes closed, he almost wasn't there. Just myself and pleasure.

After finishing with my breasts, he started kissing down my torso. From my sternum to my belly, which half tickled and half excited me, making me writhe. He paused at my bellybutton and dipped his tongue, hot and wet, probing my navel, causing a moan to slip past my lips. His fingers now danced delicately in circles around my belly giving me goose bumps and shivers as my body continued writhing. After this navel play, he continued southward, his hot mouth kissing, licking my belly, reaching the waistline of my skirt. Then he stopped and sat up. Then nothing. I peeked open my eyes and saw him, wide eyed, taking in my half naked body, as though it were some sort of spiritual experience. I felt naked and covered my chest. "No," he said sternly, yet non-threatening. He grabbed my wrists and pushed them back on the bed, near my head. I closed my eyes again, pretending that he couldn't see me. Yet in my darkness, I could feel his eyes, like a heat over my body, making my breasts swell, nipples fully erect, reaching skyward. I felt him reach down and grab my legs, lifting them off the floor onto the bed. He brought my feet to rest on his lap, my knees slightly bent. "I've always found you sexy in these," he said, lifting my feet slightly, referring to my sensible shoes. They were a simple, low-heeled shoe, conservative, not revealing at all as far as footwear goes. He found them sexy? They weren't even expensive; in fact, I think I bought them on sale at Target. I could see how a four or five inch heel would be considered sexy, one with straps and laces and open, but these? They covered my whole foot. I wondered if other men though so—certainly Brad never led on. What about men at work? Or at church? Did they get a rise out of seeing me in these el cheapos? He started to rub the top of my feet, and the sides where my foot met the sides of the shoe. I felt fingers slip between the side of the shoes and my stockinged feet, gently pushing my shoes from my feet. First my heels slipped out, leaving my shoes hanging by my toes, hands massaging my arches. His hands moved um towards my toes and felt my shoes slip completely away. "Wow," I heard him utter under his breath, then a bit louder, "you have beautiful feet. And your pantyhose—this shade just drives me wild." Again I was taken aback, a new revelation. I was wearing a nude shade, plain, not sheer or anything. I thought they complimented my tan skirt. I thought men were only turned on by black, or something really sheer. And stockings with garters. Pantyhose that cover toe to hip hardly would seem appealing, so I thought. I felt my feet rise slightly higher, then felt his mouth lightly kiss the tops of my feet. His mouth caressed my instep, then to my toes, then underneath. Surely my feet must stink, after a long day at work. The very thought made me cringe. Yet he seemed totally undeterred. In fact, his kissing was getting more pronounced, pushing his mouth harder against me feet, his breath hot. Then he started nibbling, starting on my pinky, then working up to each toe. He alternated between feet. By the time he got to the big toe, his nibbling now was more like biting. Not hard, but I could feel his teeth through my pantyhose. And I could feel his tongue. He bit and lightly sucked—wouldn't the material feel uncomfortable in his mouth? He gave no indication so, as his mouth was practically devouring my feet. I felt his saliva through the thin fabric, getting my toes wet. No man had ever paid my feet this much attention. It was bizarre, yet I had to admit, slightly arousing. His mouth moved up past my foot, nibbling and caressing my ankle, then my shin, his hands leading the way, massaging my stockinged legs. As he arrived at my knees, I felt my skirt slide down my half bent legs. My eyes still closed, I could picture him looking down my legs, my crotch. It made me uncomfortable, yet somewhere in the back of my head, excited me that someone wanted to look up my skirt. Meanwhile, John was now working his way down my thigh, massaging and nibbling, sending shivers down my entire body when he got to the sensitive flesh on the insides of my thighs. Although I couldn't admit to myself that I was enjoying this, there was no mistaking how wet I was getting. Then his head arrived at my crotch. He pushed my legs apart and they offered no resistance. I felt his face push against me, pushing my panties against my now very wet hole. I suppressed a moan as his nose or mouth or something repeatedly pushed against my wetness. His hands massaged my butt then moved up and caressed my lower belly. I realized my hips were slowly rocking, as if I had no control over them.

He sat up, gazed down at my undulating body for a few seconds, then unsnapped my skirt, letting it fall open. Then he grabbed the elastic band of my hose and slowly peeled them down. I raised my hips up to assist him when he got to that area. His hands felt very warm and soft against my smooth legs as the pantyhose slipped from my body. Now I was totally nude except for my panties: white, cotton, sensible. And soaked, undoubtedly visible. My feet were made love to again, but this time, I felt how hot and slick his tongue was. I couldn't believe how much this turned me on. Each toe was sucked, started with the pinky and ending with the big toe that he fellated and the slight biting about drove me over the edge. I couldn't suppress these moans anymore. Then to the other foot. My whole body was on fire. My breast swelled with desire and the fire in my belly was growing. I lived my whole life believing that feet were just a dirty part of the body—I never knew what pleasure could derive from them. And this man was worshipping my feet. Certainly Brad never paid them any attention.

John licked and nibbled my legs from foot to panty. Next, his lips traced my belly along the elastic of my panties, sending more shivers when he touched my sensitive skin. More moans escaped my lips. Then he traced along each leg opening, every once in a while, his tongue slipping underneath the elastic, brushing by my love nest. I was soaking wet now; I could smell my strong, pungent odor. I always thought it an unpleasant smell. I never understood how men could be down there. John kissed my panties along my sex; he could probably taste my juices on them. Then he hooked his thumbs inside them and removed them. Through slitted eyelids I watched as he grabbed my panties and then smelled them, putting the inside right to his nose. Did he actually like my smell? He must. His face returned to my crotch and he began to eat me. His tongue slid easily between my lips, slick from my own juices. His tongue darted in and out of my wet hole. I was now moaning louder. Brad only did this when I pleaded him to. He did it like it was his duty, not because he seemed to enjoy it. But John seemed totally into it. One finger, then two replaced his tongue, which was now concentrating on my clit. I felt my climax approaching as his hot tongue traced circles around my clip and his fingers thrusting deep into me, faster, faster. Then I felt him kneel on the bed; somewhere along the way he shed his clothing, and his rock hard erection was pointing right at me. "Wait! Get a rubber. I don't have any protection," I pleaded with him as I sat up. Brad always used a rubber. I wasn't on the pill and we didn't want any surprises till we were ready for children.

"No. Making love is the natural way. Otherwise it's just sex," he retorted. He pushed me back down onto the bed and lifted me legs up. "NO!" I tried to protest. Before I could react, he shoved his manhood into me. "No, no...oh!" as I felt his hot poker inside me. My protests died away from the incredible feeling. I hope I don't get pregnant, I thought. Those thoughts died away as he thrusted deep into me, still holding my legs up in the air. Somehow, a bare cock felt so much hotter and more pleasurable than one in a rubber. I felt so wicked having a guy I barely knew making love to me with no protection when my very own husband never was afforded the luxury. I felt him release my legs and lean forward. My legs didn't rest on the bed. Somehow, unbeknownst to my brain, they wrapped themselves around his legs. I was so close now. I was moaning wildly and uncontrollably. I arched my back, allowing him to thrust even deeper. Then my orgasm overtook me. My whole body spasmed and I pushed my breast up against his chest and wrapped my arms and legs around him tightly. He shoved himself deep into me then paused. Then I felt him twitch inside me, shooting a hefty load into my sex. Then another, and another. Six or seven loads he shot into me. It was the first time I remembered feeling hot seed in me. It felt really good. This whole evening, I tried not to acknowledge that I was enjoying this, yet I found my head moving towards his and my lips met his. They parted and I allowed his tongue to enter me, my final surrender. He thrust his tongue to the back of my mouth filling it as I softly moaned into his. His cock, still hard, was buried in me, his tongue buried deep in my mouth. I felt full at both ends, as my body slowly came down from my orgasm. We lay like this for what seemed like a blissful eternity. He rolled over, slipping out of me (still semi-hard) with a "slosh." I stood as I headed for the bathroom to clean myself up, as I could already feel drops oozing from me. But he grabbed my arms, sitting, holding near the bed.

He smiled and said, "I want to see your cream pie." Cream pie? I had never heard that term. I didn't know what he meant. But he kept me there, standing, juices leaking out, getting stuck in my pubic hair or running down my legs. He sat there just staring at my messy crotch, as if entranced by it. I felt very embarrassed being seeing like this. He even pushed my lips apart, allowing a freer flow of sex-juices. "Thank you, that is so beautiful!" He said smiling, now standing beside me. Wow, one revelation after another. I found it very hard to believe that anyone would find beauty in something I always considered filthy. Brad certainly never did. After lovemaking with him, he was always quick to clean up in the bathroom. And complaining if "I" made a wet spot anywhere on the bed. Maybe that's why I always felt dirty after sex. And here was a man who refused a condom, thus increasing the juicy after-mess and took pleasure in it. On some level, I actually appreciated him for finding beauty in something so vile. Well, maybe it wasn't so vile, it is all natural, I thought.