Spreading My Wings Ch. 04

This story series chronicles my initial extra-marital experiences. They began late in 2013 after over forty years in a monogamous marriage. Originally, my husband gave me permission to seek sexual gratification from other partners as a gift of his love; I subsequently gave him freedom to do the same. We now have an open marriage that includes swinging, sharing, and threesomes. I am a mature woman (over sixty) who still enjoys energetic sex. Despite flab, wrinkles, and saggy boobs, I have no problem attracting and satisfying younger partners. These are real life encounters. I don't falsify my appearance or pretend all sex outcomes are perfect, so don't expect porn-like fantasies.

Massage leads to sex with the masseur.

SandraMustard 2014

*****

I didn't get a chance to talk about my first massage with my husband because the next day started four weeks of family staying with us. Being a dedicated procrastinator made it easy for me to forget all about it (telling him, not the massage). Hubby and I had little time to ourselves with all the company. Despite my exhibitionist nature and willingness to fuck in front of strangers, I am shy about making noises when relatives are sleeping in our house. We did try some oral sex but had only one night of successful sex.

When the opportunity to get another massage presented itself, I didn't hesitate. I prepared extensively; I showered, shaved, and trimmed; hell, I even douched but what thought compelled me to do that is unclear. What women do their hair, put on makeup, and wear perfume to a massage? Vain ones? Horny ones?

Roberto hugged me at the door. His embrace was more than friendly with full body contact. He commented that I smelled 'delicious' as he nuzzled my neck. When I climbed on the table naked, I only partially unfolded the sheet and left it draped in a band across my ass. When Roberto entered the room, he asked before beginning the massage if I needed draping at all. I said I would be comfortable nude so he removed it.

He went right to work and I sensed haste. His movements weren't faster and he skipped nothing, but he spent less time than before on most areas. He spent extra time on my ass, though, and did more to it. He started out as before, kneading, pushing, and circling. With my legs spread immodestly, he had plenty of room between my legs and cheeks. He slathered oil down my crack, his fingers doing a wiggle every time they crossed my anus. They pushed further, across my perineum, and into my vagina. Effleurages along my cheek-thigh boundary turned down along my labia, reaching my clit. The pace of his hand movements increased, rising to a flurry of slides, pokes, and squeezes. He had me heading for an early climax when, suddenly, he stopped with all his fingers inside me. The abrupt lack of stimulation was like falling off a cliff.

He pulled away to start massaging my legs. Once again, his hands worked with the familiarity of an intimate partner. He made long movements up to and into my sex to keep my passion bubbling. He gave me several shots of heavy stimulation, but just when I threatened to boil over, he took away the flame. The edging was driving me crazy.

On the flip, he started with a delightful nipple massage then sped quickly through leg work that felt like he was shooting rockets into my sex. The barrage stopped yet again to allow him to maneuver for the big 'O'. He pulled one leg up and hooked it around his hips so that I was spread into a crazy can-opener position. Two oiled hands dove into my sex and began working his magic.

I felt the fabric of his pants against my hand as his groin leaned into me again. I slid my fingers sideways, searching for his erection. They pushed through his already-open zipper, encountering pubic hair and his tumescent tool. He turned his hips so I could curl my thumb and fingers around his cock but all I could do was hold on. His fingers had brought me to the top of the world for my first orgasm.

I was floating on clouds of bliss when I felt him pull away. In a moment, he was standing at my feet, an oiled hand on each ankle. As they slowly slid up my legs, his body leaned forward. His hands passed over my hips, inching toward my breasts, until he settled on top of me. His naked chest pushed my knees apart and my legs hugged his sides. When my feet pressed against his naked hips, I realized he had removed all his clothing. He brought his hands back to my vulva so he could spread my labia. I felt his hot breath before a wicked tongue was using my clit for a punching bag.

I orgasm very quickly and repeatedly during cunnilingus. I can go from oh to oh-my-god in sixty seconds. If I don't slow down in between reprises, I lose track of time and purpose. Without sense of how many times I exploded, I didn't care what he did. A voice longing for fulfillment called out, "Please take me. I want to be fucked. I need your cock in me."

He rose off me and stepped away from the table for a moment. When he returned, he leaned over me, put my legs over his shoulders, and holding them against his chest with an arm, straightened up. His move dragged my body to the end of the table. I felt his blood-bloated member plop against my sensitive labia, then surge into me. One push filled me to the hilt. The feeling of a penis sliding in my vagina is the most wonderful feeling I know. I reveled in the passion filling my body with fire. I had no regret about letting this talented man enter as only my husband had before.

I had no goal left to achieve. I let him have me totally. I know my G-spot is what gives me vaginal orgasms and they are special for me as well as my partner. He gave me two glorious rides before he backed himself out. After watching him pull off his condom, I saw his heavy member smack down on my mons and begin squirting warm semen on my pubes. My hand reached for him and caressed his pulsing cock.

Roberto let me shower in his personal bathroom. He was waiting for me in the living room after I finished and dressed. His questions about how I felt proved he was worried that I had regrets because he knew little about my personal life or intentions. The wedding ring I wore caused his greatest concern. I told him I have my husband's permission to enjoy sex with other men. I promised to give him the whole story the next time we met. I wanted to know about his life too. What drew him to be intimate with an old woman like me?

When I held out cash to pay him, he shook his head and pushed my hand away. "No, please. I told you I can't take your money. I don't want you to even offer it. I'll explain next time."

My husband wasn't home when I returned. I was so tired that I took a nap. I awoke to a prepared supper. I developed a mental block to admitting I just fulfilled my quest for a sexual partner. Something about doing it without involving him in the planning worried me. Sure, I didn't plan to have sex and the opportunity came out of nowhere as he thought it might. Yet I should have warned him of the possibility because of the first encounter.

I wish I didn't have to admit that days passed and still, I didn't mention having sex to my husband. I had his permission, so why was I afraid to share my experience? I was surprised how easy it had been to let another man fuck me, proceeding without hesitation, feeling no regret afterward. What was significantly harder than I imagined was telling the man I had honored for so long.