Minister's Wife (Cukes and Grandes)

In the tub, curtain carefully drawn, he lathered her hair, then turned her to face the wall, pulled her feet apart, bent her forward, slid his soapy cock up into her, first pussy, then bottom, then alternating in long slow strokes. She was a quivering mass of jelly within a minute, almost unable to stand, the hot water streaming down her back and flooding between them, making his cock extra-hot.

Then, as she was shaking hard and felt like she was about to collapse, he pulled the showerhead from its bracket, handed it to her, had her hold the spray between her legs as he plumbed her body. Now her legs were really, truly about to give way, and she was still some distance from her climax – and GOD how she needed that release! Jerry could feel her difficulty, turned her around, took the shower head and laid it upwards-facing on the bottom of the tub, had her squat over it. That worked wonders – her legs quit shaking, she could concentrate.

Upright before her stood his cock, glistening wetly. She looked up at him, asked gently "Shall I?" He nodded, said "If you'd like. I certainly would." He spread his own legs, giving her free access to his ball-sac, then to her surprise he soaped her fingers, took them to his anus, pressed. She looked up wonderingly from around his cock, asking with her eyes if he was certain. He nodded, whispered "Please!"

She explored, tentatively at first, then more vigorously as her own tension grew, as her stroking of his cock became longer, deeper, more expert. The cockhead fit perfectly against the roof of her mouth. It was a delicious sensation – and the idea of where it had been recently only made the whole idea more exciting. So much so that she collapsed onto her knees in a positively huge Grande long before she was done with her investigations.

Jerry took pity on her, helped her up, rinsed her off... the spray removed all traces of shampoo and soap in no time. Dried off and lying on the bed, he stroked her head, then her flank, then the midline slit between her legs – as his hand approached she knew where it was going, instinctively opened wide to give him room to maneuver properly.

She kept on with her explorations – mouths were so amazingly complex and capable! Over the next couple of minutes, she adjusted her position, tested various techniques and rhythms and angles, settled on those that seemed to produce the best, most intense reactions. His voice became somewhat strangled as his tension mounted – her mouth was getting tired, but her psyche wasn't... she wanted to see this through to the end. He arched up, she pulled him in deep, bit, chewed lightly.

He came.

It was something brand-new for her - she studied the pulsations, felt the whole masculine apparatus swell briefly against her tongue and palate, her nose filled with the aroma of his come, but it added nothing significant to the volume of liquid in her mouth. She kept stroking until he clamped her head in his hands, muttering about hypersensitivity and please please stop for a moment. She looked up at him, a long glistening string of saliva making a catenary twixt cockhead and mouth, and sighed, swallowed, then giggled and told him "Another whole bunch of firsts for me! What a collection of firsts you've given me! How can I ever thank you?"

During the remainder of the night Jerry figured out several ways for her to thank him.

Next morning he had to leave early, to catch his flight. There was very little doubt, Lynn said, that he would be asked back, and probably in very short order and if at all possible, repeatedly.

She hoped they could manage a few repeats of their own... Inside, she was aquiver. Things were now so complicated! Yes, of course, she wanted to see him again, preferably a lot - but what about Hubby, whom she still definitely loved despite all that had happened both between Hubby and her, and herself and Jerry. Jerry encouraged her to talk about it, and obviously empathized. He understood, and said that of course he would be back, and as soon as humanly possible, and of course they would be getting together – but obviously a difficult logistics and scheduling problem loomed. He was relieved when she told him "Good. Logistics and scheduling is what I do best. Not your worry, let me handle it."

Next day, Jerry drove the university sedan to the airport. Enroute, Lynn snuggled into his side and said "Hey, mister, want another blowjob, out here on the lonesome highway? It's forty more minutes to the airport..." Then, mischievous at seventy miles per hour, she slid sideways and began playing with his zipper.

Distractions notwithstanding, they managed to get him to the plane on time. Somehow.

Lynn spent most of her off-work time in the next 48 hours in a private sexual frenzy of masturbation and fantasy – entirely about Jerry. In between bouts, she considered – repeatedly but always briefly – the question of just how and why she found it so easy to completely change her morality and her behavior. There wasn't in her the slightest iota of guilt or reluctance or hesitation about this affair. There was never a good objective rationale or explanation, save that this new, utterly illicit, utterly delicious, totally addicting relationship was something she desperately needed, and had needed for a long, long time. She found it perturbing that whilst she was so head-over-heels in lust outside her marriage, she still thought fondly of that relationship and of Hubby.

Perhaps Hubby and Jerry were in separate universes, each with its own set of operational rules? Physicists, she had heard, posited that such universes were almost mandatory on cosmic scales, so why not at her own piddly little personal scale, too?

She explored a great deal. Once she got a couple of Hubby's mags out and tried to use them as a stimulus, but it didn't work – it was all wrong for her personally, and besides, it was an in-your-face reminder of what Hubby had been up to, of what she felt was probably her own failure, in a way.

Two days later Hubby came home on schedule, complete with flowers, candy, and wine. One each of everything. He was going to try his very damnedest to redeem himself.

The reunion was cooler than he had hoped for, but she did prepare a special dinner, and was cozily receptive to his tales of work and woe and hinterland sinners repentant over imaginary lapses. They eventually climbed into bed in their long-standing usual manner – both had been hoping for something to spark, both had been too tense to express the hope, and instead of some sexual adventure, they just wound up asleep spoon-fashion.

The last clear thought she had before drifting off was that Hubby's arms were NOT as interesting as Jerry's were.

Middle of the night, she snapped awake, wondered why. Studying, she realized that Hubby, although still fast asleep and spread-eagled on his back in his usual midnight posture (thank God he didn't snore, not even like that!), was now possessed of a huge midnight erection. She thought about the situation for some minutes – and the erection stayed put. That, she decided, was a good omen. The question was, what to do with it. If anything. She could use her hand, of course – that would eventually get his attention, and it would in itself be something quite unusual between them. Or, more daring, she could slide down and try out her mouth. Which would CERTAINLY get his attention!

She contemplated his cock – very different in shape and texture from Jerry's – particularly the long twist of foreskin that completely hid the glans. She decided that she really did prefer a naked cockhead – she believed it was called "being cut", as in shorthand for circumcised.

She decided on a plan, scooted forward, dipped her head, inhaled the helmet. It felt quite different from Jerry's – the foreskin made it into something entirely new. And DAMN Hubby's Brillo-pad – even without going very far down onto him the uppermost hairs tickled her nose unmercifully.

Two long slow strokes, three, four – he stirred, thrust upwards slightly, moaned, and came abruptly awake. He sat up halfway, goggling at her. She moved with him, tried to smile at him – it was hard with this thing in her mouth. His own mouth gaped and flapped like a fish caught on a mudflat.

She released his cock, shoved him back down on the bed on his back. Inside her, some previously unknown switch flipped from A to B and changed her entire persona in a millisecond. "You best keep completely quiet, dear. If you ask what happened to me, you'll never, ever find out how different I am now from a couple of days ago. Never. Don't ask. Because I won't tell, won't explain ... but I sure will STOP! Just enjoy and try to learn something. No questions, dear – not a single solitary one, or else this all stops. If it does stop, it'll be permanently. And no talking at all, not a word, from right NOW until I tell you it's okay. Got it?"

He nodded, dumbfounded.

She kept on: "While you were gone, I had a sort of..." She paused, searching. Better use his Minister's vocabulary! "...Best thing to do is call it an epiphany, an internal shift in my personal cosmos. A rebirth, a revelation, a conversion. Whatever term you like."

"So get used to it, dear. There is a new me in here that I think you are going to enjoy, but remember - NO QUESTIONS. Maybe someday we can examine the shift, if I feel up to it, but don't you EVER ask! Clear?"

Speechless and uncontrollably horny, Hubby nodded vigorously. She rolled to the side, turned on the bright bedside lamp – another first. His cock stood rampant, lonely, the top half glistening with her saliva. "Hold still, dear – move and it all stops. You stay put precisely there!"

She stepped to the closet, grabbed a fistful of his neckties, and in two minutes had his wrists and ankles nicely tied to the corners of the bed – she had always wondered why people built beds with corner-posts and no canopies, and now it was exquisitely clear. She hopped up and straddled his chest, leaned down to kiss him once, lightly, wiped her freshly-shaved pussylips across his chest, and grinned at him as she reached behind her to fondle his cock. If anything, it was harder yet. Good!

She stroked gently until he was quivering, then released her grip and slid sideways off the bed again. "Wait here, dear... I'll be right back!" She trotted to his study, retrieved one of his mags, returned with it.

He recognized it immediately and his eyes bugged, but he said not a word. She plopped it down beside him, then stood contemplating the scene. He stared at her. She picked up the mag, opened it to the center spread, a shaved blond sandwiched between two equally shaved gigantic black men. He turned his head and averted his eyes, flushed brilliant red all the way from hairline to bellybutton.

She turned his head back with her hand, held the magazine up where he could see both it and her face simultaneously. "Now you can talk. Tell me what you like in here, dear. Not your imaginings, but what do you see that you like in the picture itself?"

At first he was too embarrassed to speak, but with a little more urging he muttered words about clean-shaved, and bottoms being entered, things he had imagined for decades, never realizing that all these things were utterly natural to many people however verboten they might be within his personal micro-sphere of human experience... and never having the courage to suggest to her that they might try them for themselves.

She nodded, and when he stopped, she slung the magazine into the corner, leaned down and kissed him, then moved to inhale his rigid cock once more. She could feel his tension – he was VERY near to coming, and she didn't want that yet. Not by a damned sight! She released him, kissed him on the mouth – it amused her how he at first shied away slightly, then returned eagerly to the contact. Perhaps that was some sort of breakthrough for him?

"You know, don't you, dear, that even after all these years together, I still love you? Very much indeed!"

He nodded silently.

She reached out and fondled his pubic hair, grinned sprightly at him: "Well then, Husband Mine - THIS stuff has got to go. It's Cleanup Time!" From the bathroom she brought their hair clippers. He stared. She smiled and said "As in the pictures you like so much, dear. Hold still – this will get the bulk of it, and maybe later, if you're very nice to me, I'll shave off the stubble, too. I think you would like that."

His cock twitched heavily. She giggled. "You'll like both the PROCESS and the RESULT, dear. Believe me!"

The clippers didn't quite give a shave, but in a couple of minutes there was a pile of shorn curly hairs the size of a baseball on the towel beside his hip, and the full length of his cock was visible for the first time since before puberty. She held the tip in one hand, stroked the length, then caressed his newly-clear-cut pubic mound. He shivered violently – even just reduced to pre-shave stubble it really DID feel good.

Staring at him, now eye-locked, she asked "You'd also like to have me suck on this cock of yours, I suppose? Perhaps even to the point of making you come?"

He nodded – Come. Cock. She had never, ever used those words in his presence – but now, somehow, it seemed perfectly normal – which turned him on even more.

She turned, dropped on top of him min a classic sixty-nine, waggled her wide-spread pussy above his face, and said "OKAY then, lover – turnabout is the only way this game really works. Even trade. You've seen lots of pictures, so it's time to practice. You explore me, I'll tell you what I like. And vice-versa, of course. Which means you can speak now – but as little as possible!"

He really wasn't a bad student – clumsy and too delicate at first, then when he finally found her clit he was immediately too rough. But she got that ironed out quickly – one thing Hubby wasn't was terminally dense where his own pleasures were concerned! Shortly, she levered herself up away from his cock and muttered over her shoulder "Gentlemen, that is, REAL gentlemen, always let ladies go first. Time for you to make me come... just keep doing what you're doing. Your turn is next."

She paused, giggled, and said sweetly, "Really, it's time for you to practice what you preach. What you are always preaching as the core tenet of Christianity... you DO know whereof I am speaking, don't you? Tell me what that is!"

He stared into her eyes, flushed, nodded, and after one false start managed to get out "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

He did unto her all things which she demanded, and found it immensely exciting to have his face buried in the shaking, throbbing dampness as he made her come – although his unattended cock was throbbing with need, and his arms and legs were aching with the strain of working against his tie-downs.

Finally she ordered him to stop – he needed more practice in order to be able to determine the proper endpoint on his own. And she intended for him to get the practice. As soon as practicable, too.

But now, in all fairness, it was his turn. She scooted astraddle him until she was above his cock and facing his feet, reached behind her with the lube, coated him from tip to base, then herself. He was staring at her back, at her widespread buttocks, as she positioned his cock-tip against her anus. This was, for him, a brand-new world view – one he instantly appreciated.

Looking over her shoulder at him, Lynn thought she'd never, ever seen anyone so absolutely near-catatonic with lust – his hardon was more rigid than she had ever known it, and seemed larger than normal – perhaps it truly was larger? If so, that would be her fault, wouldn't it! Hooray!

She grinned to herself, and engulfed him with her bottom, all the way down to his pubes in a single delicious unbroken movement. She took exactly three long, slow strokes before she heard a strangled "Oh, GOD!" She turned and looked over her shoulder once again, watched his face go all screwed up, mottled nearly purple, felt him arch up hard against her, heard him come in great sobbing gasping bursts.

As he finished, she spun about his maypole to face him again, leaned back, slid the dildo up into her pussy as he gasped for air and watched. She applied the little vibrator to her clit, studied the undiminished hardon still pulsing as it filled the entire length of her welcoming rectum.

She came as fast as he had - but harder and much, much longer.

Ten minutes later, she untied him. He said not a word, just wrapped her in his arms and kissed her like he had never done before. It was as if she'd broken some sort of kissing-dam in him. THAT alone was worth the price of admission, she thought.

Lying there in the post-kiss silence, she could almost hear his thoughts. He turned towards her, his mouth opened, he started to ask her "What in the world has happened to you..." But he saw the look in her eyes. No, he wouldn't go there. Just accept, wonder at it. Be pleased, squash the curiosity.

What came out of his mouth was, instead, "I do believe, thrice-a-Grandmom, that you could kill me with sex, without batting an eyelid. Would you care to try? I have another position in mind, and I think my cock is capable - I'm SURE my libido is!"

When she grinned happily at him and nodded, he flipped her onto her hands and knees, then scooted behind her, picked up the lube and said "Since you don't seem to mind, this is something I have imagined us doing for about thirty years, so we'd better get started playing catch-up."

He was no slouch as a learner: in exploratory, careful mode, he slid exquisitely slowly into her bottom. She sighed, wiggled, and enjoyed. Moments later, as he began his rhythm, she reached for the mini, and turned it on. Over her shoulder, she muttered "I hope you're not the type to be jealous of an inanimate object?"

He was already close to finishing, and in a tight voice answered "Nope. That toy is now my friend as well as yours. Happy to buy the batteries – all the batteries you ever need. Lube too. I refuse to be jealous of anything that brings us both pleasure."

She grinned to herself: it was as near to an absolution as she wanted – plenty close enough, even if accidental.

Later, with Hubby back asleep and her mind awhirl, she contemplated the new complexities in her universe. Two men. One brand new. The other thoroughly refurbished – to the point of effective newness, at least, for the moment.

What to do?

She considered the possibility of NOT continuing with Jerry, but couldn't take that option seriously. As she'd told Jerry, she was an expert scheduler - she could handle such problems. And there certainly seemed to be enough of her newly unleashed sexuality to go around, to handle two men. What a concept, really! Men and their ideas on polygamy, when the sexual reality was that a preferred state of affairs would probably be universal polyandry!

After a while, she drowsed lightly, considering how things might have to be juggled.

And into the back of her dreaming mind crept pictures from the magazine, rotated, modified.

Sandwiches indeed.

The woman in the middle was herself.

Both men were utterly absorbed in their own pleasures as they pounded mercilessly into her stretched openings. She was deep in the throes of a prolonged string of Grandes – they were unaware of her euphoria.

Both were average-sized white men, neither man's face was visible... but both were instantly recognizable.

A fantasy for the moment... but for the future, who could say? Proper planning and maneuvering could almost always produce whatever she wanted. Even a sandwich.

Her pussy went liquid, her hand slid down to caress her clit, and she wondered how long she would have to let Hubby sleep before she could wake him and expect to be properly received? It was a puzzlement. Such a nice puzzlement. The entire world should have such problems, shouldn't it?