Magdalena

I wrote.

She replied.

I invented a reason to fly to Croatia.

She agreed to meet me.

I sat on the sofa next to Magdalena. Erik, her husband sat on the armchair opposite us. I held my coffee cup so as to hide my rather obvious erection. It had been a strange meeting at the airport earlier that week. Magda, as she now preferred to be called, had met me from my flight with Erik but in the airport concourse had given me a huge welcoming kiss on the lips in full view of her husband. It had lasted about four seconds. I had to admit I was wondering whether that was a local custom or had Magda simply forgotten he was there!

In any case she linked arms with me and we walked ahead while he carried my bag and an admittedly large and expensive bottle of malt whisky I had picked up at Heathrow for them. In the car, Erik drove while Magda sat next to me, her leg resting against mine and her arm linked though my arm and holding my hand. At one point she rested her head on my shoulder for half a minute and said "It's so good to see you again, Steve."

I caught Erik's look in the mirror. If he was enjoying this, he was certainly doing a good job of disguising it.

They dropped me off at my hotel and I spent the next morning catching up on a few e-mails and doing some sightseeing. At lunchtime, Magda called me. Would I like to go to the opera with her this evening?

"What about Erik?" I asked.

"No, he hates opera. I never get to go. This will be a rare hot date for me," she replied.

I smiled as the memory of that conversation twenty years before came back at that cue "hot date". I wondered if she was playing with words of if something I didn't understand was going on.

The woman who met me in the lobby of my hotel two hours later was almost unrecognisable. Magda had had her hair done, was wearing a simply stunning cocktail dress and jacket, and even her skin seemed tanned and shining. She kissed me full on the lips as we greeted each other and we walked arm in arm to the taxi.

We had balcony seats but they were in a private pew. Each row of pews was designed to give the occupants maximum line of sight to the stage but complete privacy from other people in the other pews. Sometime during the second act, I felt a hand slide across my thigh and move to my groin. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation but Magda was soon kissing me on the mouth and pulling my hand onto her lap. I stroked her thighs and tried to push a hand up her skirt but the damned dress was too figure hugging and too expensive to risk damaging. At the interval we left and took a taxi back to her house.

"I have my hotel room," I said between kisses. "We can go there".

"No, I want to do this in my marital bed, Steve," she breathed.

What could I say?

Erik didn't seem surprised to see us. Magda threw the keys at him and said something that obviously meant. "Park the car properly."

She dragged me into their bedroom, and for the next half an hour we fucked like animals. I came into her mouth and into her pussy. I made her cum six times with a combination of fingers, tongue and cock. Erik, just sitting watching television in the room next door, must have heard every scream.

Afterwards, we walked out into the living room. Erik was sitting on the sofa. The football match he had been watching was just coming to an end. He pushed a newly opened beer bottle towards me and shrugged.

"Have you done this a lot, Magda?" I asked.

"I have only had sex with three men in my life, Steve," she replied.

"You were the first. The second was Petr's best friend who I let fuck me at a Christmas party when I was nineteen after a row with Petr. The last was my husband. I told him that if I ever met you again he was not to be jealous if I did something like this. I love him and he will always have my heart. You, Steve, can only ever have my body."

My week took a turn after that. I checked out of the Radisson and slept with Magda every night in her marital bed while Erik had the sofa bed. On the third night she made him watch us, and on the sixth night she made him put my erect cock inside her. I had never had a man touch my cock before, but under the circumstances it was fine - and for whatever strange reason he did not seem to mind watching me fuck his wife in front of him.

So that was the story of Magdalena, the Croatian student, so far. I hope there are future chapters to the story. If so, I will be happy to describe them here. Hope you enjoyed it.

Obviously, I've changed a couple of the names. But I've left Petr intact. There's something in me that wants him to know that I fucked his girlfriend even before it became apparent that he never would.