Sometimes It Just Happens

Sherri dragged the razor up her leg. It was her day off and she had nowhere to go, but she did have one meeting of sorts at home and she would look proper. Really, it was as much interview as meeting. As a middle school principal, she possessed some insights of apparent interest to a casual acquaintance. Marc worked in the city planner's office. Sherri knew him through swimming. Their daughters were both on the varsity team. There were no ulterior motives in her grooming. She just wanted to make an appropriate appearance. Were she thinking of anything else, she wouldn't have just shaved her legs. There was several days of stubble where she normally shaved for Randall, her husband, as he liked it smooth. But he was on his annual summer work assignment in Japan. Four long weeks. Anyway, she didn't do that. Never had. Well, there had been that incident when she was in New York with the girls about a decade earlier, but that had just been once and only a blowjob. Sherri felt her nipples stiffen slightly as she thought about it.

She finished her legs and then her shower.

Marc was greeted by Sherri at the door. They smiled and she invited him in and asked if they could sit on the sofa as they worked through his questions. Marc was fine with that.

They briefly spoke of personal things. How was Laurel, Marc's daughter? Fine. And how was Brin, Sherri's daughter? Busy with work this summer as a server, day shifts at Louie's, a local mom-and-pop place. After a little more chat, they delved into Marc's queries about education and the needs of the middle school as it pertained to certain local changes being considered by the municipality over the next decade. It took about half an hour to work through everything. As Marc was putting away his notes, Sherri commented on the beautiful summer day they were having.

"Shorts weather," he observed with a glance at her legs and received a smile for the compliment. Then he reached out and ran the back of his hand up her left calf.

"Very smooth," he added.

Sherri was surprised by this comment, and momentarily at a loss for words. Then she surprised herself by suddenly stating "But I'm not shaved everywhere."

Marc raised his eyebrows but did not fail to also offer a hint of a smile at this. He appeared amused as Sherri flushed in embarrassment.

Then he was back to business. He rose, and after she did as well he shook her hand and told her that she'd been very helpful.

"I will have some follow-ups. Could we do this again? In, say, a week?"

She agreed. Maybe a bit too eagerly, she thought. Marc smiled.

The following Wednesday, Sherri heard Marc's car pull up in front of the house. She felt inwardly awkward. The day after their meeting, six days after she had last been with Randall, she had had a late morning glass of wine and then retired to her bedroom. There she had touched herself while thinking of Marc. This was not her usual practice. Though Randall's travels often left her to take care of her own desires, when she masturbated Sherri imagined famous men. Men she had never met and never would meet. It was safe. Though not as good as sex, the releases were what she needed. But that day last week, it had been unusually pleasurable. The thought of being alone in Marc's presence, with the man she had imagined being with sexually, excited her. It was a safe outlet, she told herself. She intended to touch herself again that afternoon. With that delicious mix of awkwardness and excitement, she answered the door. Marc was there with a smile both confident and disarming.

Sherri again led him to the sofa, this time contemplating him more openly. He was a bit taller than Randall and framed more pleasingly. She might have assumed that he worked out, but thought he was probably just more active than her husband. But most of all it was his eyes, alight and penetrating and fun. She turned and took a seat and looked into them and took a deep breath.

"About last week. What I said. I'm not sure why I blurted that out."

Marc sat down and looked at her questioningly. Sherri couldn't tell if he was serious or playing with her. Not a look of recognition came to his face. Finally he spoke.

"Oh, you mean about how your pussy wasn't shaved?"

Now her face went a deep red and she looked away, before glancing back at him. He was smiling, but benignly so.

"No, I understand. Randall's out of town so you hadn't... mowed the lawn."

Sherri playfully rolled her eyes.

"After all, why would you?"

She nodded.

Marc got out his notes and glanced at them.

"So is your pussy shaved now?"

"Yes--" she said automatically, then stopped after that single word and just looked at him.

"Well, I guess you never know," he said nonchalantly, and then went back to his notes and began to ask her questions following up from the previous week. Soon they had established that professional rapport again and Sherri felt at ease once more. They worked for about fifteen minutes before Marc put away his notes. Somehow, as they had spoken they had come closer physically. Their legs were touching. Sherri hadn't even noticed. Now she did. She liked the feeling but betrayed nothing. Later, she wondered if Marc had been able to tell. At any rate, she was surprised when he put his hand on her thigh. She had looked up at him and he had looked into her eyes.

"It's a shame you're all shaved and there's no one to enjoy that," he said softly. "Unless perhaps you have a date?"

She shook her head with a light laugh. Then Marc leaned in to kiss her. Sherri let him.

It was a soft kiss, gentle, lips exploring. She returned it. Her nipples grew hard. Then she felt Marc's hand on the inside of her thigh. He had a very nice touch. When he unsnapped the button on her shorts, she sighed. There would be no reason to touch herself that day, it seemed.

His touching continued as they kissed. He was feeling her lightly through the thing fabric of her panties. Then, a finger at the seam. Underneath. Feeling how smooth she was. In a moment he would discover how wet, she thought. Then he did just that.

She murmured her approval, and his kissing became more passionate. He left her lips and kissed her neck. His hand was doing wonderful things and she turned her body so she faced him, as best their positions on the sofa allowed, and then she felt his other hand. On her breast, through her clothes. Sherri moaned softly as Marc slipped a finger slightly inside of her and sighed as she felt him unbuttoning her top. When it was open he very deftly slipped off her bra. Sherri felt the air on her hard nipples, suddenly feeling wantonly exposed. Even as she drank in the pleasure Marc was giving her, it amused her to think that as she was getting her pussy fingered by a man not her husband, somehow it was her exposed tits that were conjuring a certain abashed reaction in her.

She kissed him back now, with an intensity commensurate with what she was feeling as he used his finger on her. It was there. An orgasm. Not yet emerging, but lurking. It had made its impending arrival known to her. All that was necessary was for Marc to make good on the silent promise of his touch, and she had no doubt that he would do just that. Sherri lost herself in a mental blur of kissing and being kissed, of being stroked and fingered and occasionally finger-fucked. At one point her hand descended to Marc's pants and she felt his hardness within, but he made no move to maneuver so that she had better access. It was all about her now. She let it be that way.

Marc's finger begam to focus on her clit. Not too hard, not too gentle. There was rhythm. Then his mouth went to her left breast and he took the nipple and sucked it gently. She gasped slightly.

"Yes," she informed him, barely audible. And there it came. Her orgasm, now present and looming. On its way. Not hurrying but building its force inexorably. She briefly wondered if Marc could sense this, then immediately knew that he certainly could.

It finally arrived faster than she had expected. Even as she was preparing, there it was, reaching the point where it was inevitable.

"Oh!" she said with surprise. "Marc... Marc!"

It was there. The full-body quivering. The spasms. The crying out. He knew just when to ease off and let her climax flow to its fruition, his finger then off her clit and simply caressing, his mouth soft on her nipple. When she was finally spent, Sherri exhaled deeply and sat up. She looked at Marc and reached out to feel his hardness through his pants.

"Your turn," she whispered, and unzipped him and took him in her hands, admiring his cock as she stroked it. It was larger than Randall's, she mused to herself.

"What about the sofa?" Marc said, his voice hoarse, a sound which pleased Sherri. "Take me in your mouth."

She looked at him, pondering. She wanted to do just that, and surrendering her self-image of proper mom and wife, she got onto her knees and did so.

Fellatio was not something she did often to Randall. Oh, she liked it. And sometimes she sucked him as a prelude to intercourse. But she hadn't sucked him off completely, and certainly hadn't taken his ejaculate in her mouth, in many years. Her husband had long ago decided that it wasn't a proper thing for his wife to do, and not long after they married was the second to last time she had experienced that pleasure. This brought to mind New York, and she smiled a secret smile that Marc would not notice because she had his cock in her mouth. But even that was years ago now. She looked up into his eyes as she sucked him.

This is Claudia's husband, she thought to herself, and suddenly she felt that, yes, she would indeed be touching herself that afternoon after all.

She was very good, as she could tell that much from Marc's reactions. He was so self-assured, so confident, never at a loss for words, but now she held him entirely in her hands. Or mouth, she thought amusedly. And she was going to make him lose control.

Sherri sucked her acquaintance's husband's cock, her head bobbing up and down, taking his shaft into her mouth over and over. There was nothing surprising about the way Marc proceeded to his orgasm. She sucked him and felt it rising within him and knew exactly when it would begin. And it did, with that warm thick spattering against the back of her mouth, and she was vaguely aware that he called out her name as she continued to coax his cum from him, over and over. When there was no more to be had, she let his cock slip from her mouth and looked up at him and swallowed once and then again.

With that, Sherri began to transform herself back to who she was. She rose, buttoned her shorts, put her bra back on and fixed her top. With a glance at her reflection in the mirror she saw with satisfaction that he looked much more like a principal than like a wife who would suck the cock of someone other than her husband.

She then watched Marc remake himself. He was good at it, she thought. And when he too was presentable again, he gave her a kiss. Not a passionate one but a kiss with the appropriate affection for moments shared. It later occurred to her that the kiss was what made her agree to another meeting a week hence.

A week later, they returned to the sofa. Again, questions and answers. It only took a few minutes. There was then a mildly awkward pause as they searched for things to say. Finally, Sherri spoke. She told Marc that what she had done to him was something she did not do to Randall, by her husband's preference. Marc leaned in and kissed her.

"I haven't cum in Claudia's mouth in years," he whispered into Sherri's ear. Marc could feel her quiver in response.

"And does Randall give you oral pleasure?"

Sherri hesitated, then shook her head.

Marc slid off the sofa and was in front of her. She barely hesitated, then slipped off her shorts. Another hesitation, then she removed her panties. Red, this time.

Her wetness glistened. Perfectly smooth. Sherri knew she had lovely pussy lips. Marc looked up at her, and while looking into her eyes he kissed the inside of her thighs. She gave a soft, approving murmur. Marc appeared to be in no hurry, and he teased her with his tongue just long enough, then ran it along the red and swollen labia. She felt the last hesitation leaving her, the final reticence flowing away, and she parted her legs more and gave in entirely to his attention.

Marc licked Sherri. She felt him take her folds into his mouth and softly suck. His tongue darted into her now, then again. He found her pink button by feel and massaged it with his tongue. She was making sounds now and moving her body along with his oral givings. How much time passed she did not know. She did not care. Then she reached her hands down to his head made herself fully complicit in this forbidden encounter before she gave a long moan and cried out his name as her orgasm came. This time, Marc did not let up. His tongue remained on her clit and she writhed and moaned throughout her long, long climax.

When it was finally over, Marc stood and removed his shirt and then his pants. Sherri looked at his erect cock. It was the look of anticipation in a woman who still couldn't quite believe what she was doing, of a wife wrapping her mind around the fact that she wanted this other man inside of her.

Looking at him unabashedly no, she spread her legs wider still with her hands under her lower thighs. Marc moved onto the sofa. His hardness made the skin tight until the head of his cock shone. He moved it against her wet opening and her sigh came and then went as he did not penetrate her. For a moment he merely rubbed his cock against her, then Sherri made an impatient sound.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

She nodded, then a look came across her face that told him she wished her response hadn't been so enthusiastic.

"Say it."

"Yes."

"Say it."

"Yes, I do!"

"What?"

"Fuck me! God, fuck me!"

Marc smiled.

"You want me to fuck your married pussy?" he inquired with undisguised mirth.

"Yes!"

"Yes, wh--"

"Fuck me! Fuck my married pussy!"

And he did. Marc sank fully into Sherri and she gasped. But again, he did not rush. He filled her with long, leisurely thrusts. She looked down to see his cock sliding in and out of her, as if she still couldn't quite believe she was doing this thing that she was enjoying so immensely, feeling self-conscious because she knew he was watching her watching his cock.

"Don't worry, I'll pull out," he teased but with a look that suggested seriousness. She shook her head. Again, too adamantly.

"You want me to cum in you?"

She nodded, now not trying to hide how much she wanted that.

"In your married pussy?"

Furious nodding.

He took her ankles in his hands now, holding her legs vertical. His cock plunged into her, over and over. Sherri moaned.

"Say it."

She ignored him.

"Say it, or I'll pull out."

"Cum in me! Cum in my married pussy!"

He fucked her harder. Then, she began to climax again, suddenly, surprising Marc. From the look on her face, Sherri was caught by surprise as well. This began to push him beyond his endurance, and Sherri was still full in the throes of her ecstasy when he gave her that final thrust that ended with his cum flowing into her. She cried out again: a squeal, his name, moans. He murmured her own name as he gave her the last final spurt before he was spent. Then they lay together, still joined, breathing hard.

Minutes passed. The scent of sex and the vibe of sin hung in the air. Finally, Marc pushed himself up and withdrew his softening dick from her. There was a large wet spot on the sofa. They both looked at it.

"You'll have to take that to Smithson's," Marc said, referring to the local cleaners.

"I think I'll find an out-of-town place for this," Sherri replied drily. Marc tried and failed to suppress a smile.

Now and then they ran into each other. At the bank one day. Another time Marc engaged in chit-chat when he encountered both Sherri and Randall while out for a walk. But it was almost a year later that they happened upon each other where it was just the two of them, in the stands before a swim meet at the high school. They were among the first to arrive. Marc saw Sherri seating in the top row, where she liked the vantage point. He came up and said hello and she greeted him in return, coolly but not unpleasantly. He sat down next to her. Nothing unusual about that. Just two parents talking. About their daughters. About the team. About the impending meet. A few other spectators began to arrive but they stuck to the seats nearest the pool.

"So, fucked any swim dads lately?" Marc quietly yet cheekily asked.

"Of course," came the sardonic reply. "I'm married to one."

They were silent for a few minutes, watching the warm-ups. Then Marc told Sherri that he had sought her out solely for her expertise. There had never been any ulterior motives on his part, even after the first meeting. Not that he hadn't been thinking about such things when he returned a second and third time, he allowed, but that he had come to her for professional reasons.

"Sometimes it just happens," she said thoughtfully.