Lue to Lucy and Back Ch. 01

In which I have a man who is not my husband in the marital bed.

*****

Ahhh, bliss. Awake, just; lying peacefully on my side after a deep and satisfying sleep. Dawn is breaking outside the window, casting only the dimmest light into the bedroom. It has been a very warm night; no more than a sheet is needed for covering, and any extra warmth I might need is supplied by the body snuggled up firmly against my back. There is an arm lying loosely across my waist, which occasionally wanders up so that a hand may gently massage a breast. Then it moves over to the other one. After a while it wanders down over my tummy and fingers rake through the fur on my mound.

A little while ago I had lifted my leg to allow the hard penis which had been pressing against me so insistently to find the entrance it was seeking. With my leg lowered, this ramrod is now wedged firmly within the slick walls of my vagina. All is quiet. Bliss.

Then, a noise. The bedroom door opens and a figure carefully makes its way to the wardrobe and reaches inside. The wandering hand withdraws with amazing speed and the arm couldn't have vanished more completely if it had been amputated. The ramrod which had been filling me so satisfyingly shrank, turned into a marshmallow and slipped out. The body which had been pressing against me tried, not very successfully, to put some distance between his front and my back.

The figure walked from the wardrobe around to my side of the bed. He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. "Sorry Lue," my husband said, "I forgot to get a tie when I took my things last night. I'm off now. I'll see you later this afternoon."

"OK Don, seeya then."

I listened to his footsteps retreating down the hall and the front door closing. Then I had a fit of the giggles. A voice behind me, "Oh Shit!"

My teasing retort, "what do you mean, 'oh shit'?" I rolled over to face him, and reached down to give the marshmallow a squeeze.

"Do you think he knew what we were doing?" There was panic in his voice.

"I'd say he had a fair idea," I said. "When he agreed last night that he would sleep in the spare room so that I could have you in here, he wasn't thinking we needed the big bed to make space for a scrabble board."

I was still teasing him. A pause, then, "yes, but we were doing it when he walked in, do you think he saw?"

"I'd say he knew. And you couldn't have got much closer up behind me without putting it in."

Silence, then, "Ahh Fark!"

"What now?" I said.

"I was in you from behind. You don't think he might have thought that I was ..."

I cut him off. "Definitely not! He knows I don't do that. We tried anal once and it was a disaster. He knows how big you are, and if I won't let Don put it in there, I'm certainly not going to let you do it. Just stop worrying."

I don't think he really stopped worrying, but I had other things I needed to do. "Now, I've got to finish what you started, and you can't be in this bedroom when the kids wake up. We don't have a lot of time, so on your back."

I kicked the sheet off the bed, sat up and admired his muscular body. There was no part of him I hadn't seen and explored before, but little thrills shot through me every time I looked at him naked. It was a body that should have been available only to his wife, just as convention said that mine belonged to my husband, but every chance we had we absolutely smashed those conventions.

He rolled over flat on his back, with his arms above his head. I leaned over and cupped one hand under his scrotum and placed the other over his flaccid penis. Rolling his testicles in their sac and squeezing his soft shaft soon brought things to life and the ramrod was on its way back to working order. I pressed it down flat on his belly and nibbled along the underside. When I released it, it stood up and I licked around the head. I loved playing with it, pulling the foreskin back hard to emphasise the ridge around the glans. It felt powerful in my hands. It would feel even more so soon, when I had it inside me.

I reached across to the jar of skin cream I kept on the bedside table and scooped out a few fingerfuls. I rubbed the cream over the head, down the shaft and around his scrotum, and the ramrod grew even larger and harder as I did so.

"Why are you greasing him up? You never needed it before," he said.

"It's not lubricant, it's wrinkle cream," I replied. "I thought if your cock and balls were nice and smooth and free of wrinkles it would look better when you have it all on display in the locker room."

I don't think he caught my weak attempt at humour, but he seemed to enjoy what I was doing anyhow. The skin cream game was one I had learned together with my husband Don. Spreading it all over his penis and around his scrotum was something we both enjoyed. Don liked the feeling of slippery hands and fingers, and I loved playing with it and knowing that it was growing into readiness to perform because of what I was doing.

I'm all in favour of play-sex. Sex should be fun, as well as being an erotic experience. And there are times when I can be quite happy to just have the fun without going all the way to the mind-blowing climax. But this time I wanted much more than just sexy play.

It was time. He was ready for it. I was unbelievably so. The tension inside me had been building since coitus interruptus fifteen minutes ago. If I had been slick then when he slipped out of me, I was super-wet now. I needed him back inside me. I lifted up and straddled him, reaching down between my legs to grasp his shaft and run the head back and forth within my cleft. Then I positioned it at the entrance to my vagina.

I dropped down just far enough for the head to penetrate. The ridge clicked through the firm ring within my entrance. I lifted up and the ridge clicked out again. I love that feeling. It's a tease - tormenting him while I'm pleasuring myself - so I bobbed up and down several times before dropping down and taking him all the way up inside me. I wriggled my hips to and fro and side to side to get the last millimetre or two in and I sat up straight, feeling the full length of him filling my vagina. It may have been my imagination, but I was sure he was pressing into parts of me that my husband's penis had never touched.

I leaned forward, draping a breast across his face. He took the nipple in his mouth and bit it. I pulled back and offered him the other one. It received the same treatment. I pulled it away too and then lay almost flat on him. I had done this once before, and that time had not quite produced the climax I had hoped for. But the feeling of control that being on top gave me was a real turn-on, and I wanted to try it again.

I pushed back to get my mound grinding against him and his penis pressing against the sensitive upper wall of my vagina. I could feel pressure on my clitoris. A few minutes with just a little up and down, some back and forth and side to side, and I was on the edge. I could feel the tingling radiating from my core throughout my body. My shoulders shrugged and my legs stiffened in advance of the orgasm that would soon crash over me.

He beat me to it. He had been thrusting up from below to meet my movements on top of him, then he suddenly stopped. His body went rigid and he grunted as he shot the first jet of his semen deep inside my body. Then he went wild, writhing and thrusting from underneath me as he pumped more and more up into my vaginal canal. It tripped me over the brink.

My orgasms are not noisy, fortunately, but they are intense. They start with a tingling and tightening of muscles, leading to a whole-body spasm and muscular release. My husband says he has watched my toes curl when I am about to climax. My toes must have tied themselves in knots for this one. I lost track of time while my body shimmered and twisted on top of his, then we both went limp, my weight pressing down on him.

Slowly I became aware that one part of him had not relaxed completely. His penis was still erect and inside me. Maybe not as hard as before, but it wasn't showing any signs of slipping out any time soon. He rolled us over so that he was on top. He drew his hips back slowly, then lowered them down again. I could feel the shaft withdrawing until only the head was inside me, then moving all the way back into what must have been a rather full cavity, what with both our juices deep inside. It wasn't long before he was back to full ramrod hardness and, incredibly, I was just as ready with my arms and legs wrapped around him and my heels digging into the back of his legs urging him to enter more deeply into my wet and willing vagina.

This time I lay there and let him do all the work, and he certainly put a lot of energy into fucking me. (That is not a word I use very often, but there is no other way of describing what he was doing to me. Fuck. I was being fucked. He was fucking me - hard.) Once again I lost track of time as he pounded me into the mattress. Once again I felt the tingling of an almost-there orgasm. He groaned. I knew that signal as once again his body went rigid. This time I was there first as I went over the crest for the second time that morning. I gripped him tightly with my arms and clamped his hips between my legs. He was only seconds behind me, delivering a second load to add to what he had pumped into me the first time.

After a while he rolled off me. "Wow," I said, "that was amazing."

"Yes," he said, "you really are."

"Not me," I replied, "it was you that did all the work the second time."

"No," he said, "it was you that made me do it. It's a long time since I've come twice without de-cunting." This boy has a way with words. But I was glowing with pride, or something like it. This sexy man appreciated me as a sexy woman. I had made him come twice without de-cunting. Not only that, I also climaxed twice, something that had never happened to me before.

How had it come to this? Here I was, a wife and mother, with a man who was not my husband - indeed another woman's husband - in the marital bed. But I didn't have time to think about that right now. It was almost time for the kids to wake up, and for me to return to my role as mother. "Time to go," I said. "You are supposed to be in the spare room, and I have to get the kids' breakfast."

He left and I crab-walked to the bathroom, trying my best to hold my legs together to keep his semen inside me until I could get a towel and wipe myself dry between my legs. I felt no guilt. Morning glory - what a wonderful way to start the day.

A year ago I was a wife and mother who, to all appearances, led a reasonably happy and rather ordinary life. What I was doing now was far from ordinary. It had been an interesting year.