Rebecca's First Affair

"Fuck me. Please." That was the most important request she had ever made.

"I will. Let's go to the bed." They walked arm-in-arm to the bed. He was much less hairy than her husband and his muscles were taut and hard. His penis was long and straight. Her husband's looked like a banana. He was a beautiful man. She laid down on her back and, as he hovered over her, she spread her legs. He laid down, half on top of her.

The telephone rang.

"It's my husband," she wailed.

"Answer it," he said calmly, rolling off her. "Just talk slowly and naturally. Pretend you're sleepy. Should I leave?"

"No! Don't." she mustered her courage while the phone rang again and again. He kissed her breasts.

She answered the phone. "Hello," she said timidly.

"Rebecca," It was him. "Is everything all right? You haven't called."

"Oh, yes," she answered, more loudly than she wished. "Everything is fine."

"You sound funny."

"Oh, no, I'm not funny. Just a little bit sleepy. A little bit sleepy. You woke me up. Tired. All tired. I was tired and I went to bed early." Jerry gave her a thumbs up and went back to sucking on her left breast. She rubbed her hand over the back of his head. Nice hair.

"I just wanted to make sure than you are okay."

"I'm wonderful. Tired. Hard day." Jerry was working his way down from her breasts. Now, he was at her bellybutton. He had turned, his head pointed toward her feet, and his penis was poking her in her unoccupied ear.

"Well, no problems here, so I'll let you go back to sleep. Good-bye."

"Good-bye," She said it with a gasp. Jerry's mouth had found her clitoris.

"You're okay?" her husband sounded puzzled.

"I'm fine. See you tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon. I'm coming home. Tomorrow."

"Oh my God," she said after she hung up the phone. "I forgot to ask about the children. He'll wonder why. And I forgot to tell him I loved him. Did I sound drunk?"

Jerry raised his head from her crotch. "Not at all," he lied. He kissed her on the lips and she could taste the smell of herself. He stared into her eyes for a long moment, "You still don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do. I want to fuck you." She said it emphatically. "Fuck." She loved that word. She hadn't said it since she was in high school. In that moment, she fell out of love with her husband. Or she realized that she hadn't been in love with him for a long time - perhaps ever. Becky, the flat-chested prude, the modest Sunday school teacher, wanted to be loved by men. Wanted to be a wicked woman. To be fucked. And fuck. And drink margaritas.

"Oh, my God," she said for the hundredth time as Jerry's fingers pulled apart the lips of her vagina and his mouth closed gently on her clitoris and his tongue flicked against her again and again and she was hunching back and forth and squealing in delight as he sucked her quivering clitoris and rode her plunging thighs to a climax.

"That was quick," he said as he relaxed and reclined by her side.

"Was it good?" she asked. "I want it to be good for you. I wanna fuck good."

"It was good," he assured her. He rubbed the side of his head. "Although sucking you could give a man cauliflower ears."

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No, not at all." He rubbed his ears.

She made a mental note for the future. "Don't put a headlock on a man who's sucking your clitoris." She was serious and almost sober for a moment. "I want you to cum inside me. My husband is the only man who has ever cummed inside me. Well, almost the only man. I want to feel you inside me."

"Don't worry. I plan to fuck you all night long. Unless you're in a hurry."

"No, not in a hurry. I want it to last. Last all night long. But I should have asked my husband about the children. I forgot about the children."

He thrust a finger inside her. She was wet. "I don't think we'll need any lubrication." He pushed his finger in further.

"Oh, my God!"

"Is that the only thing you can say?" he laughed. "We need to work on your vocabulary"

"Shut up and fuck me," she said. Wow! She was getting saucy.

He rose from her to a sitting position and reached into his billfold and took out a condom, bit off a corner of its plastic cover, unrolled it, and pulled it over his penis. She watched fascinated. She had never seen a condom in use.

"I'm glad you didn't ask me to put that on. I wouldn't know how," she said with a giggle.

"I could teach you. You could practice but I have only two rubbers and I don't want to waste one."

"I have more," she giggled again. "Sue gave me four."

He laughed. "You may need all four. I'll teach you how to put one on. Later. But first..." He rolled over on top of her.

She reached down with her hand to feel the condom before he slipped his penis inside her. "The condom has some kind of powder on it. It feel's sort of...sort of like it is covered with powdered sugar. Like an angel food cake I make."

He stopped, raised his head and looked down at her beneath his body. "Powdered sugar? I've never heard that comparison before."

"I do a lot of cooking," she answered, wiggling her hips to bring him deeply inside her. She paused in thought for a moment. "Actually it's grainier than powdered sugar. It's more like cornstarch."

She moved in time with him, her lips parted in ecstasy, her legs spread wide, her back arched, breasts thrust forward, her fingernails - short, as befitted a preacher's wife - clawing his back.

*****