Our Story

After a moment, I realized I had been daydreaming a bit. I shook my head and quickly looked back at Charlotte. She was just sitting there, looking at me with a flat, emotionless look on her face. She was not happy, but she nodded, indicating that I should continue.

"So," I hurried on, "After a few minutes of making out, we both realized we were getting pretty cold. She also mentioned that she couldn't stay long. Lake Park is north of the University, and she lived south of the city, so she'd have a longer drive home today than normal.

"Neither of us wanted our little date to end as we walked back to the cars, and she invited me to get into the van with her. I did, and as soon as the doors were closed and the heater was going we started making out again. At this point it was kissing, necking, the whole works.

"As it started getting warmer in the car, she shucked her coat. She was wearing a pretty thin blouse that buttoned down the center. I was surprised, because it seemed like more of a summer thing, but she claimed that her office at the University was chronically over-heated."

"So, you wasted no time taking advantage of the situation?" Charlotte asked, swirling the wine around her glass and taking another sip. "And don't bother being reticent," she added. "Give me all the details."

"Okay," I sighed. "We started kissing again, and I immediately reached over and cupped her breasts. They were small, A-cups, but I could feel her nipples get hard under my touch, right through the blouse and bra.

"As we continued to make out, I started massaging them. It seemed to excite her, and so I got a little bolder. She started really responding, and pretty soon we were really going at it hot and heavy

"After a few minutes, I started unbuttoning her blouse. I didn't know if I was going too far - we were in a public parking lot, after all, even though it was deserted - but I figured that she'd stop me if she was uncomfortable. Instead, she just leaned back and sort of thrust her chest out at me.

"As soon as her blouse was opened - I even pulled it out of her pants, so that I could open it up completely - I saw that she had a traditional bra that clasped in the back. It didn't matter to me. I flipped the cups up so that I could touch her. Her nipples were very dark, hard and pointed, like thimbles. I was surprised and really turned on that they were so large, since her breasts were so small.

"As soon as I made contacted with them, she really started breathing heavily and squirming in her seat. I mean, nipple play obviously really turned her on. She was just holding me as close as she could while I kissed her and made love to her breasts. This went on for several minutes, and I began to wonder if she could actually have an orgasm just from nipple play."

At this point, we had to take another break as our salads were delivered. We ate in silence for a while before Charlotte finally looked up at me.

"So, what happened?" she asked. "Did you make your girlfriend cum?" I almost choked, and had to swallow quickly before I could answer. I had forgotten how blunt Charlotte could be

"No," I finally said, "in fact she called a halt to it. She said that if we kept going we'd have to go all the way, and she didn't want to have sex right there in her mini-van in a public parking lot. If anybody came along we could both be in deep trouble. It was hard - no pun intended - for me to stop right then but she made sense. Besides, it was already starting to get dark, and we both had to be getting home."

"Poor boy," Charlotte crooned in mock concern. "Your girlfriend left you frustrated. What did you do then?"

"Watched her put herself back together," I said, shrugging, "and kissed her one last time, got out and walked across to my car, then watched her drive away while I started the car and warmed it up. I was so sad to see her go, but I was also so happy that it had all worked out. We were both so turned on, I knew that, well, we'd be having sex soon.

"Then I went home and tried to be the best husband and father I could be. I was afraid my wife would somehow know right away, but Patrice hadn't worn any perfume or lipstick - she seldom did - so there were no telltale signs. She had even checked me for stray hairs before I got out of her van. I remember dinner, putting the kids to bed, and trying to initiate something with my wife." I stopped and looked at her for a moment.

"It still wasn't happening," I continued, "so after she went to bed I stayed up and jerked off, thinking about Patrice. I had such blue balls, they just ached, but when I finally came I think it took me ten minutes to clean myself up."

Charlotte just sat looking down at her empty salad bowl for a few moments, and then the waitress came to collect the bowls and tell us that our meals would be right up.

"That must have been really exciting for you," she finally said, still looking down. "Did you feel guilty at all, when you got home or maybe the next day?"

Honestly, I didn't know what to say. When I paused for a long moment, she looked up at me. We'd promised to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, but on the other hand I really didn't want her to hate me.

"No," I finally said, with a sigh. "I mean, not yet. Later, when Patrice and I were having sex, I think the guilt just wore away at me. It was like I was being eroded. But at this point we hadn't actually had sex yet, so maybe that made a difference for me. Anyway, all I could think of was seeing her again and, you know, going further."

She nodded, then said, "And I'll bet it didn't take much longer to 'go further', did it?"

"No," I admitted. "Honestly I texted her the very next day asking if I could see her again, but she pointed out that there was only so much time we could take off of work. We did make a date, though - a hotel date - for the following week. We..."

"How often did you see her, over all?" Charlotte interrupted.

"We met for lunch once per week, and for a hotel date once every month or six weeks," I answered.

"And how long were you together?" she asked, leaning forward a bit.

This time I did have to think, for just a second or two, counting the months in my head. "Fourteen, maybe sixteen months?" I finally answered.

"So, tell me about a typical hotel date, and don't leave anything out," she said, that serious tone back in her voice.

Well, okay, then. This was it.

"It was always a weekday, and it would always start like any other day. You know, alarm, shower, dress for work, get the kids going, make lunches, etc. I was always the last one out the door, so it was easy for me to call in sick once everybody was off on their day. After that, I'd leave, drive to the hotel at the airport, and rent a room." Instead of interrupting this time, she held up a hand. I stopped and nodded.

"Why the airport hotel, and how the hell did they let you check in that early...and didn't paying for the room leave a paper trail?" she blurted.

"Good questions," I nodded. "The hotel out at the airport is never full unless there's a huge weather problem with lots of flights canceled. We knew there'd always be rooms available there, and the chances that somebody would see us going into or out of the parking lot was a lot smaller. The only folks going by were those who were heading for a flight or who had just landed, and we'd pretty much know when family and friends were flying.

"As for the paper trail, I did have to give them my credit card to book the room, but I always paid in cash and we'd switch the room over to Patrice's card when she got there. She took care of the finances in her family, so if there was ever an incidental expense charged to the card - which, actually, there never was - she could pay it and hide it from her husband."

"Okay, smart," she admitted. "You had this planned out like Danny Ocean, didn't you? Continue."

"Patrice's day started later than mine, so I'd usually have time to check in, go up and check out the room, then head over to an old strip mall parking lot not far away. We could park her car around back and it wouldn't be spotted by anybody driving by, but it'd also be safe for the day.

"Like me, she'd call in sick to work as soon as her husband and kids were out of the house, then she'd join me. She'd park next to me, lock up, jump in my car, and we'd be off to the hotel. Just for extra security, I'd take the service road, park in the back of the hotel, and we'd walk in through the service entrance, up the back staircase, and right to our room.

"Oh," I added, thinking back, "I'd always ask for a room away from other guests, if possible. I'd say I was a business traveler whose flight had been delayed all night, and that I really needed some sleep before I had to go to my meetings."

"Holy shit," was all she said. "I can't believe the thought you put into this."

"Well, we really, really didn't want to be caught," I repeated.

"Ok," she said, taking another drink as our meals were delivered. As soon as everything was situated that we were alone again, she nodded and finished her sentence. "Give me all the details."

"As soon as we were inside, and the door and drapes were closed, it was like the whole world melted away and it was just us. We'd start with kissing, always with kissing, but as we kissed I'd be moving her back toward the bed, and stripping off her clothes.

"She always had some sort of little surprise for me. Like a special pair of panties she'd bought only for us, ones that her husband had never seen. Or once she'd been going to a tanning salon, so she had a darker tan than normal, but she'd been wearing a Playboy bunny sticker, so right on her hip there was this image of a Playboy logo. Another time she'd rouged her nipples and pussy lips - stuff like that."

Charlotte was nodding, obviously paying total attention to what I was saying, so I plunged ahead.

"Within a few minutes, she was always naked, lying on the bed with her legs spread, her heels and butt right on the edge, and I'd go down on her. By that time, she'd be pretty excited from the kissing and just from being there with me, so she'd be ready."

"Were you still dressed?" Charlotte interrupted, clearly trying to get a precise picture of the situation.

"Yeah, yeah. I mean, sometimes she'd take my shirt off while we kissed, but our first focus was always on getting her off. See, she'd never had anybody go down on her before."

"What!" Charlotte exclaimed, maybe a bit too loudly. A server actually looked around the corner to see if everything was okay. When we looked innocently up at him, he ducked back into the main dining room.

"Yeah," I said, keeping my voice low. "Her husband thought oral sex was dirty. He never went down on her in their entire relationship, and he never asked her to go down on him, either. He was pretty conservative. So being eaten out was a whole new experience for her."

She nodded, still looking shocked, but swirled a forkful of steak at me in a motion to go on, so I did.

"She'd be lying there, legs spread, and I'd be kneeling on the floor. I could reach around her legs and spread her lips, then just spend as much time as I wanted tonguing her pussy and teasing her. She especially liked it when I'd use as much suction as possible on her clitoris, and then lash it with my tongue as fast and hard as I could.

"I know, I know," I said, seeing the expression on Charlotte's face, "but she really had a high pain threshold. I mean, she enjoyed all sorts of really intense sensations that my wife always found too painful.

"She was also very, very orgasmic. I mean, within just a few minutes she'd be cumming, and when she came her whole body shook. She always told me that I gave her 'whole-body orgasms', which frankly made me feel like the king of the world."

I stopped and looked at Charlotte for a moment. "Sometimes, I think you lose that in a marriage. You stop trying to make each other feel like they're the best thing that ever happened to you. It's one of the things that seems to be so easy to do in an affair, but so hard to do in the relationship that really counts, you know?"

To my surprise, she nodded and reached over the table to touch my hand for a moment. "I know what you mean," she said, looking steadily back at me. "I always thought that my husband took me for granted, and didn't really make me feel special, but maybe...I guess...I stopped trying to make him feel special, too."

She squeezed my hand, and then brought her hand back as our server came ask us how our meals were. We assured her that everything was fine and we each ordered a refill on our drinks, and when they came I continued my story.

"While Patrice recovered, I'd strip. By the time I was naked, she'd be off the bed and on her knees. I'd already be hard from going down on her and watching her cum. She had literally no experience sucking cock, but she always wanted to return the favor after I gave her head. She'd pop me into her mouth and try to go down as far as possible without choking."

I saw the look on Charlotte's face, and I cut her off. "No, she really wasn't that good at giving head. I mean, she got the idea of keeping her teeth out of the way, but she really didn't know what else to do - with her hands, suction, rhythm, anything. To her it was just so...intimidating, maybe? - to have a cock in her mouth.

"Anyway, I loved her, and I loved that she really wanted to do this for me. I loved just feeling how warm and wet her mouth was. She'd bob up and down, work on my head, and then take me in as deep as she could.

"I don't think she really wanted me to cum in her mouth. I mean, she'd never had that happen, and I think she was scared by the thought of it, but that didn't matter to me. I honestly didn't want to do that, anyway. I just wanted to feel myself in her mouth, and for her to feel good about having me there."

"So, you never came from oral in all the time you were with her?" Charlotte asked.

"Never. I suppose I got close a couple of times, but no matter how enthusiastically she went down on me, it was never quite enough. Not that I ever told her that! Instead, when I was ready I'd just reach down and step back and pull her onto the bed with me.

"We always started with her on top. Always. I'd lie back with my head propped up on the pillows, and she'd crawl over me and work herself slowly down on my cock. Then she'd ride me, leaning forward to kiss me as she did.

"She went slowly at first, just enjoying the feel of me inside her, I guess; enjoying the feeling of our bodies against each other, and the feeling of kissing somebody you really care for. That would go on for a while, and then she'd gradually start speeding up, going faster and deeper."

"You must not have been able to last long," Charlotte said, and I could see that she didn't mean it as an insult or anything.

"Actually," I answered, with no small amount of pride, "I always held off until she came."

"Really?" She sounded surprised.

"Yeah," I replied. "Not that I'm pretending to be any sort of stud or anything, but it was different with Patrice than it was with any of my other partners." The look on Charlotte's face let me know that I had to qualify that quickly.

"I mean, when you're young, as a guy, and first having sex, the feeling itself is enough. It's amazing just to feel your cock inside a woman, and you're young and you have a lot of stamina, of course, but generally you're just thinking about the feeling.

"When you're older," I continued, "and you're with a long-term partner, I think that you know more what to expect, and you know it will be good. You know the routine. This, then that, then the other."

I could tell that this wasn't going over well, and I had to scramble to make myself clear. "Look, when you're young and you're partaking in something new, you can just get overwhelmed with the new feelings and experiences. When you're older and you're participating in something; well, not new, but with this new person, you can concentrate on something other than just the feeling.

"I guess what I mean is that the feeling of sex, the actual sensations, aren't all that different from partner to partner, right?" She still had a half-pissed, half-confused look on her face, but she slowly nodded. "The difference is the partner," I continued. "Who you're with. So, with Patrice I could just enjoy the feeling, the great sensations, not get overwhelmed and lost in them, and actually concentrate on her.

"I'd look up at her face, watching the feelings sweep over her. She'd look down at me and - I know this seems crazy - but she'd seem so grateful that I could hold out and keep making her feel like this. There was so much love in her eyes that I felt like a king. The sex felt amazing to me, and I knew I'd have to cum, but it was like I could hold off forever, just watching the pleasure wash over her, until she came.

"And, of course, she did. I'd always know when she was close, because she'd pull her feet up under her, so that she was crouching over me, and balance herself with her hands on my chest or on the headboard. Then she'd just piston up and down on me, slamming herself down over and over, this look of pleasure so intense that it almost seemed like pain spasming her face.

"And of course, it felt great to me. Feeling how warm and wet she was, all over my, uh, penis. It felt like I was on the edge the whole time, like all I had to do was concentrate for a bit and I'd explode, but...I didn't have to. I could just keep concentrating on her, watching the pleasure sort of crash through her pretty face, and that was enough or me.

"When she finally came, it was drawn-out, and pretty loud. She'd slam herself down on me one last time, then just sort of double-over on top of me, moaning loudly, over and over. Almost keening. She'd shake all over, just like when I was eating her out, like she was losing control of her muscles."

"That's why you'd always ask for a room away from other guests," Charlotte said, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, Patrice was pretty loud, and you know, she said she never was with her husband. Only with me. That made me feel pretty special."

Charlotte was nodding. "I'm sure it did," she said, "but you eventually did get off, right?"

I laughed, a bit self-consciously. "Yeah, of course. I mean, at this point I was practically jumping out of my skin.

"As soon as she was done, the last few tremors of her orgasm working through her, I'd roll over and flip her onto her back. After the first few times, she knew exactly how I wanted it and she'd pull her knees all the way up and lace her fingers behind her neck. Then I'd put her legs over her shoulders and clasp her wrists so that she almost couldn't move at all, then I'd push into her.

"I was younger then, obviously," I laughed, "and fitter. I'd just go as fast and hard as I could, looking down at her as she shook with each thrust, watching the orgasm as it built up in her. Again, I found that I could hold off for much longer than I ever could with any other partner. I'd just watch it build and build in her, until she was cumming again, and then I'd join her, slamming myself down on her at the last moment and kissing her deeply as I filled her up."

At this point, we spent some time eating in silence. I was a bit anxious about her response to my story, and I suppose she was processing it all.

"That's some story," Charlotte finally said, knife and fork still poised over her meal. "It's even gotten me a little hot and bothered."

"Nah, it's just the wine," I replied, and we both laughed, and the ice was broken a bit.

"Seriously, though, that was incredibly hot." She said, and paused for a bit. "I'm sorry that you didn't have sex that great with your wife."

"No, I did!" I assured her. "Honestly, over the course of our courtship and marriage, I had a lot more great sex with my wife than I ever did with Patrice." She was obviously happy to hear that, and I continued. "It's just that, when something's new, I guess, there's nothing else that you're dragging into the sex. It's just the two of you and how hot you are for one another, nothing else. No outside stress, you know?"