Now You Do Mine

I lay back across the bed, shifting the covers so they weren't uncomfortably bunched at the small of my back, and let my head hang down just past the edge of the mattress. The heady, thick scent of our earlier lovemaking rose in the air, warm and welcoming and familiar. Gazing up at Gretchen to the pale blonde curls at her crotch, her tight belly, regal breasts, and finally above them her face, I reached for her thighs. "Stand right here, babe, and put your pussy on my face."

I felt more than saw her ready smile, and she stepped over to me, thighs spread, feet flat on the floor, then she squatted to bring her pussy down to me, settling it onto my mouth with a surprisingly delicate landing. She leaned forward and her hands went on either side of my ribs. "Like this?"

My tongue answered, starting to trail along the beautiful slit hovering over me. At the same time, I reached for her, my hands coming to rest on her ass, and I stroked it and her thighs while I started to eat her pussy for the second time. Her juices were like treacle, sweet and thin, and she suddenly gasped with an unexpected climax. "Oh, fuck, Doug, oh Jesus that feels good..."

Gripping her ass more fiercely, I drew her down further, pressing the wet hole against my face and began to lick her in earnest. Her pubic curls were soaked with her juices, along with my face and lips. A trickle of her warmth slid up my cheek and into the corner of my eye, stinging just a little, but not enough to get me to stop.

Gretchen started to hump my face more deliberately, passing the length of her pussy, from her swollen clit down to her taint, over my mouth, moaning with each circuit. The slender folds of her labia were practically dripping with her juices, and I licked away every drop I could, satisfied there would be more following it.

She started grunting, an endearing ungh-ungh-ungh with every thrust of her hips. "Fuck, Doug, don't stop, baby..." Her grunts rose in volume, a wild call of pure ecstasy as she came again, flooding me with her divine waters, and I heard her sob in release, still humping my face.

My cock was hard again, but I had already decided that could wait. It was my last night with the most beautiful woman I had ever bedded. I fully intended to demonstrate how special she was to me, how grateful I was for her.

At that moment, she lowered herself to me, the length of her body against mine. Her moans were suddenly muted, and I felt her mouth claim my cock, her lips and tongue playing along the length of my quivering erection, sucking it in time to her cunt rubbing itself on my face. Even with all our sex play since this morning, I felt another climax rushing at me. I had once--just once, mind you--managed to cum four times in one night back in college. The lovely lass who had coaxed me to that Olympic level of achievement became my wife a couple of years later. Now, twenty years later, I was close to beating that milestone.

As if she knew what I was thinking, Gretchen lifted one of her knees onto the mattress, the other foot perched on the floor still. The muscles of her twat tightened, smooth and slippery with her juices, and she redoubled her efforts, sucking avidly, almost desperately. My tongue penetrated her hole, tasting the space beyond, gently intruding and withdrawing, my tongue fucking her hole in time to the best blow job I could remember.

Gretchen's voice was low, sultry, an arousing instrument all by itself. "Aah! F-fuck...fuck! Jesus, baby, eat my pussy...don't fucking stop!" Pussy juices welled up and trickled down my face, a sweet, musky flood driven by both our passion. On top of my, I felt her tense, her stomach tight against my chest, her breasts pressed and flattened against my own stomach. Her mouth descended again, and her next groan vibrated along the length of my cock, starting at the back of her throat, then the next, until I felt a fresh wash of hot nectar all over my face.

I came the next instant, and felt her lips on my pubes, her tongue massaging the length of my shaft. I didn't think there was much left to give her, but she kept sucking, her throat tightening with each spurt, just like earlier, and I almost passed out from it, utterly, literally, drained.

We lay there, her on top of me, our faces panting on our crotches, moans receding into the dim room. Presently, she clambered off me and helped me turn onto the bed, our heads on the pillows, just enjoying the afterglow with our arms around each other.

She whispered something I couldn't quite make out, and I kissed her before asking her to repeat it for me. Her face turned bashful, and I was sure she was blushing. "I really like you, Doug. More than just 'like' you."

"I more than 'like' you too, Gretchen." We kissed for several minutes, stroking and caressing our bodies.

She pulled back. "God, you taste just like my pussy..." Her tone was lustful, loving if I dared to admit it, but only to myself.

"Well, I was eating your pussy for a while..."

She hugged me tight. "You know, babe, I haven't cum that hard in years, maybe ever. I love when my pussy's licked and sucked, but that was incredible, my love." The last two words were barely breathed, but I could tell they were intentional, honest.

"I love you too, Gretchen."

"I know." I felt another soft wetness, salty instead of sweet, dripping from her eyes on my chest and shoulders. "I know... But we can't be in love. It's not fair to..."

"Amanda and Walter?"

"No! To us. I didn't expect this, not making love to you all day, watching movies naked by your side, how much I want you, Doug." She closed her eyes, and even in the outside light I could see tears, glittering little jewels on her cheeks.

I kissed her eyelids, gently, lovingly I now knew. "Gretchen, you're right. We can't possibly be in love, but we are. Tomorrow, you go home to Walter, maybe pretend you know nothing about his guest staying over all weekend, and I stay here, waiting for my wife to tell me how much fun it was being in bed with your husband."

"I wish I could stay." I knew she meant forever, and I wanted that too.

"I wish you could, but no matter what we're feeling right now, we only have tonight."

Her mood brightened after a moment. "Well, at least we both got laid! I don't know if Amanda has any idea how good you are in bed, but you should show her. Once I'm gone, of course."

"Of course."

The whole night, we slept in each other's arms, comfortable and warm.

We woke mid-morning. Gretchen stretched sinuously before putting her arms around me and kissing me fully awake. The covers were around our waists, and we kicked them off. My mind changed about her; she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever slept with, eclipsing even Amanda. She was soft and warm, and I knew I was doing something I shouldn't, not just the torrid sex.

Her blond tresses were spilled across my arm and chest, and her hand crept down my belly, not quite tickling me, and came to a rest on my dick, which had already begun to rise. "Doug, how about one last spectacular fuck? Your wife's coming home sometime today, and I don't want to waste our last chance together."

By answer, I rolled onto my back and started to move her on top. A wicked, lustful smile came to the fore, and she kissed me again. It took only minutes for the two of us to cum, and we collapsed into each other, lying there, basking in what was a true afterglow, not just the warm weariness of two bodies finishing intercourse.

We got up a little before noon and showered together, both a little subdued. It was the end of our weekend, the end of our relationship, if that's what it was. We dressed slowly, casting glances as we covered up for the first time in almost a whole day. The last thing she put away was the pistol, still languishing on my coffee table. After all we had done and been for each other, that might have been the hardest thing to explain to Amanda.

Fully dressed, not yet ready to say goodbye, we stood by the door. She looked cheerful, and a little melancholy, exactly how I felt. We kissed a long farewell, her graceful, willowy frame leaning into mine, her hair still a little damp, her eyes bright and happy.

At long last, she drew back and held my hands. She was still the loveliest thing I could imagine waking up next to. "I wish we had another week, Gretchen..."

She closed her eyes and kissed me on the lips. "I wish we had a whole lifetime, but this will have to do. I love you, Doug."

"I love you too, Gretchen."

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye." She slipped out the front door, leaving me more alone than the day before.

Within half an hour of her departure, I had cleaned the bedroom and master bath, changed the sheets and my clothes, and put all our towels in the washer, carefully cleansing any sign of our illicit weekend from the house. Some guilt passed through me, but passed quickly when I remembered what Amanda had been doing, would likely do again with Walter if given the chance. I even spritzed some air freshener in our bedroom, the living room and hall, and left the fan going in the bathroom to suck out the last of the steam from our morning shower. I opened up the blinds in our room, once again mine and Amanda's, letting the sun in.

I could still feel her skin, a ghostly tingling on my fingertips and palms, could almost smell her in the air when I closed my eyes, even taste her juices on my tongue. I also knew I wanted to see her, feel and taste her again. My cock responded weakly; after our sexual and emotional marathon, I was still a little surprised I could even think of sex.

Amanda arrived home around four, perfectly coiffed, immaculately dressed. She had gotten her hair and nails done, and presented a lovely picture. Her raven hair was now in a bob cut, and lay like a sleek helmet on her head, glossy and dark as a raven's wing. She sedately closed the door, and rushed to join me where I stood in the living room. She gazed up into my face, her clear blue eyes the color of sapphires, and kissed me slowly, longingly, as if I didn't know she'd spent her weekend getting vigorously laid.

Knowing her, Gretchen was right, and many or most of the surfaces in their home had held or braced one or both of them at one point. She smelled of fresh perfume, no hint of her feminine scent in the air, not a sign of the avid fucking she'd engaged since Friday evening.

She smiled up at me and kissed me again. "Dougie, thank you so much. Again. I love you, you know that." I did. "It was so nice seeing him again. You'll never know how much I appreciate what you did for me, what you do for me."

I smiled at her. "So, you enjoyed yourself, babe?"

To her credit, she blushed almost scarlet. "How many details do you want?" She shook her head, and said, "No, no details. I will say I'm almost completely relaxed now. Also a little sore, so I might not be ready for you until Wednesday."

"What about the weekend?"

"Spending it all with you, probably very naked. I think I have him out of my system for now." She didn't say for good, I noticed, but kept my silence. We had a light dinner out, a small Italian place we enjoyed about once a month, chatted about anything but our weekends, and went home completely relaxed, both of us satisfied, though she didn't know that about me.

As it turned out, Amanda was ready for me Tuesday night, not Wednesday, coming to bed in the nude, throwing her arms and legs around me with obvious ardor. After some foreplay, I turned her over on her hands and knees, and came in from behind her for the first time in a couple of years. "Oh, Doug! You're so naughty fucking me doggy style!," she exclaimed with a throaty chuckle. She was clearly ready for whatever I could give her. I pounded her slowly, until she begged me to pound her quicker, make her cum, this time for me.

The fervent slapping of my groin against her bottom was loud in the room, but not louder than our moans. She came first, pushing her pussy back into me, and I filled her moments later. Spent, we pitched forward on the bed, holding each other as we wound down. Amanda spent the rest of the night with her tush pressed against my crotch, my arms wrapped around her. The last thing she said before drifting off to sleep was, "I love you, Dougie..."

Her transformation was incredible to behold. The weekend with Walter, illicit or not, had been a revelation for her, breaking loose a logjam of pent-up sexuality, and we were flooded with more raw fucking than we'd experienced since our first year together. I was very sated, as was she, and we tried more different positions than we had in years. She even suggested we get a sex swing for our room, and whispered she'd never tried that with anyone, but would do it with me, anything I wanted.

After two solid weeks of uninhibited and unabated sex in every room of our house, and once at midnight in our back yard, it was like a fuse tripped. Amanda came to bed in a nightgown, solid cotton, no buttons or slit seams up her thighs, gently swatting away my hands on her hips and tush. Then she stopped talking about sex at all, suddenly shut it all down. At night, she pleaded fatigue, turning in long before or long after I did, subtly avoiding my touch. She started locking the bathroom when she showered, another sign my loving wife was done with sex for the time being, at least with me.

I was sorry to see her libido fade, and thought often about Gretchen, the willing and sexy wife of her lover. That weekend had been a voyage of erotic discovery for me, too. While Amanda's dalliance was an open secret, acknowledged only between us, I made no mention whatsoever of Gretchen, except to softly moan her name while jacking off in the shower.

I hoped my beautiful blonde was happy back with Walter, wondered if she admitted to our sexy meeting while he fucked my wife. I was, if not happily, contentedly married, and had some hope my wife would one day feel her heated passions rising in her belly, and come to me again, eager and willing to be slutty and free with me alone.

Another seven weeks passed, and Amanda admitted over meatloaf one night she hadn't really gotten Walter completely out of her system, still ached for him. It was another revelation, but one I wholly expected, especially since Walter's wife Gretchen still occupied some of my deepest carnal thoughts. It was clear my wife still loved me, and wanted to be as happy in our bed as we had been before. She asked my permission, again, and I considered it for a whole day.

Gretchen would have to be out of their house, of course. I had no way of inviting her over to see me, and wasn't even sure she would be interested in repeating our own forbidden tryst, after the first one. Walter and Amanda were pretty much a sure bet to make time together, but would Gretchen be willing, now that she knew, to let him stray again? An errant thought came to me. What if she ends up shooting him over it? It would be ironic and unfortunate in so many ways.

I relented Friday evening, and Amanda thanked me by being naked with me all weekend, even consenting to have sex a couple of times, and she came with me on top of her, ordinary missionary so she didn't have to work too hard.. It was a trade-off, I knew, and I still loved her, even as I hoped Gretchen would be willing and able to see me.

It was the following Friday night, and Amanda had gone to Walter again. This time she said she would spend the whole weekend, two whole nights and three full days, thank you so much for understanding, and she said she hoped that this time might be enough to get over him. I knew she would be over him, and under him, sucking and fucking, getting him out of her system again, however briefly. I speculated on exactly how long it would really take to do that, and knew it might take months, if ever, to finally quell her urges toward him, if ever.

She had been gone for a couple of hours, and I heard a knock on the front door, three polite, confident raps. This time I didn't hesitate, and opened up the door. It was, of course, Gretchen, but transformed. Her hair was up, and her face bore the faintest touch of makeup, enough to accent her natural beauty. The sundress she wore was a cheerful yellow, nearly sheer, letting the rays of the evening sun pass through and silhouette her body, sans bra or panties.

I noticed her nails were painted in an appealing shade of peach, fingers and toes. Her purse was smaller now, not large enough, I was relieved to see, to carry the big pistol she had threatened me with six weeks before.

She stepped in and welcomed me with a long, deep kiss, and I felt a thrill when my hands passed over her hips, passing over her backside and feeling the absence of her silky panties, then upwards to the altogether not-there bra. I used my foot to shove the door closed, and we spent the next several minutes saying hello nearly silently, our hungry moans and soft kisses the only sounds in the living room.

"Mister Langan?"

"Yes?"

She kissed me again, longing and covetous, and I knew our clothes would be on the floor soon, and our bodies against each other the whole weekend, on top of and against any surface we wanted, naked and willing and eager.

Her smile was happy, even joyous, and she grinned slyly, mischief twinkling in her eyes, before saying the words, so similar to our first meeting, but truer now. "I think I'm going to fuck you..."