Spreading My Wings Ch. 05

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.

SandraMustard 2014

*****

Roberto works me over.

Yet again, I refrained from telling my husband about what I was doing. Once I held several different experiences in secrecy, especially intercourse, finding the words to begin admitting my activities seemed impossible. Yet, I found it difficult to accept anything as plausible justification for my reticence. He told me, 'Go fuck another man.' Why couldn't I say, 'I did what you said I should.'

When I spotted a thread in Literotica's Fetish & Sexuality Central forum about secrets kept from spouses, I couldn't pass on the opportunity to unload a little guilt. My experiences wouldn't be secrets from Jack if I posted them under my own username so I created an alt. The Lit-confession helped lead directly to an admission to hubby, but not before I visited Roberto a third time.

I had finally made up my mind to tell my husband about what really happened with my co-worker and then the massages and sex with my masseur. I envisioned a full day of romantic, Fourth of July activities to set his mood; maybe we'd get lucky, too. Instead, he got a call and left to help a friend with emergency repairs at a condominium he rented out to vacationers. Jack was right to go help a friend in need but a four-five hour job sixty miles away ruined my plans.

Ironically, I had been beaten up in high surf a few days earlier and I complained of stiffness to Jack. Hubby suggested a massage while he was gone would make me feel better; he even asked if I had the number for 'that guy I found' (meaning Roberto). He had no idea what he was sending me out to do. I almost passed on the opportunity because of the weirdness-factor.

Eventually, I called Roberto, and at first, he said he wasn't working on the holiday. I went through the usual steps to book an appointment for the next day. When I gave my name, he changed his mind and offered to see me right away. I was nervous about what we were going to do, but honestly, I looked forward more to fucking than getting a massage.

I showered and got to his house in thirty minutes. Feeling chilled by the contrast of the air-conditioned room after the sweltering heat of outdoors, I got under the draping sheet. My decision may have confused Roberto about my reactions to having sex during my last appointment. He began with professional techniques and kept me draped for modesty more so than my first two visits. His skilled massage focused on my body trauma, lasting the full scheduled hour and providing remarkable muscular relief.

We talked extensively during the massage. I was very candid about my personal life and the conditions of my sexual freedom. He was surprised to learn he was my first masseur and my first extra-marital lover at my age. Being a married woman with permission to play did not make me unique among his clients, but Roberto made it clear that he had tremendous respect for my husband's selfless generosity.

I tried to learn all about him but he guarded his personal life like a poker player. I did learn some obvious background about his occupation and willingness to please ladies. He has been a licensed therapist since he was 20. He began working in strict spas but was seduced by the money he could make as an independent. After he setup his therapy business in his home, he succumbed to demands for sensual services when rich ladies waved cash at him. He didn't advertise about the extras but word of mouth and bold requests (like mine) made happy endings a common conclusion to his sought-after massages.

Only at the end of the hour did my massage turn sensual. My torso remained covered when his hands began working my breasts under the sheet. Work on my inner thighs included full contact with my labia and a few slides across my clitoris. The finale was a nimble finger dancing on my clit that resulted in a fast ride up to one ordinary happy ending. I decided to accept what I got and appreciate his attention when it should have been his time off.

Instead of telling me to get dressed, he helped me rise from the table, and then led me by the hand naked across the hall to his large bathroom. He started a shower running, and while waiting for the water to get hot, he opened his medicine cabinet. I saw the familiar diamond-shaped, blue pill he took and realized he had big plans for me.

During our first sexual contact, I rarely opened my eyes to look at him, instead concentrating on the stimulations of his hands, mouth, and cock. It had been all about my body, my orgasm. As I prepared to have more sex with him, I studied my human sex toy, wanting to be mentally aware of my partner this time.

He faced me when he removed his clothes. Roberto is just shy of forty, almost twenty-five years my junior. He's had a few too many beers as most middle-aged men have but he remains a virile specimen with a nice looking flaccid cock hanging between muscular legs.

I was eager to show a little aggression. After he washed my entire body including my vulva to get the massage oils off me, I reciprocated by washing his whole body. I knelt in front of him so I could pay particular attention to his manhood that swelled and stiffened as I soaped him with two hands. When I leaned out of the way to allow the shower to rinse off his cock, his slender hips danced in the rain.

His circumcised penis stood invitingly before my face; his bullet-shaped glans and thin shaft rising out of short pubes on his flat groin made him look longer than six inches. More than touching his manhood, more than seeing it, I felt an urge to taste him. I grabbed his teetering tower and guided it through my lips to where my waiting tongue could cradle his head and begin caressing him.

Forcing my head down until my lips and nose buried themselves in his pubes, his smallish head slid down my throat with little discomfort. He gave out a guttural moan as I held him deep and then slowly pulled back. His reaction inspired me to take him deep again. I felt him tense and heard him hold his breath. His size didn't choke me and I was able to throat him for nearly fifteen seconds as my tongue tip wiggled under the base of his shaft.

Before I could develop a blowjob rhythm, his hands reached around my ribs and began lifting my lower body. His gentle guidance changed my position so that I was standing, bent at the waist, with his penis still buried in my mouth. Pivoting my body to one side allowed his hand to reach over my backside where his fingers could enter me. His experienced probing found my G-spot and our stimulation of each other became intense. I wondered how soon he'd be ready to go again if he came in my mouth but I decided to let him direct our action.

Salty pre-cum alerted me to his impending eruption as I began chaining my own intensifying climaxes. His free hand was shuttling among several efforts. He massaged my lumbar, reached around my far side to cup my breast and tweak the nipple, and then finally onto the back of my head to encourage it down on his cock. My own hands weren't idle. I slid one around behind him where my fingertip could rest on his anus; my other hand cupped his balls. He spewed grunts and groans as I bobbed my head and mewed.

Just as I reached an orgasmic peak, he pushed my head down. His cock slid into my throat where my moan of bliss vibrated on his glans. I pushed my finger deep into his ass and squeezed his testicles. A long gasp of pleasure sounded above me. My head pulled up just as his hips started jerking and his cock spurted thick semen in my mouth. I swallowed it all and licked him clean.

After his orgasm ceased, he leaned against the wall. Sensing I was too weak, his arms helped me straighten and then hugged me against his body. After our panting breaths quieted, leaving only the splash of the shower cascade hitting the stall floor, he gave me the greatest compliment I could have received. "Wow, Sandy, that was one of the best blowjobs I have ever received." As a woman who once considered her fellatio technique seriously deficient, hearing such praise made me glow with pride.

He led me to his bedroom. Pulling back the bedding, he directed me to lie in the center of the bed. Instead of sliding in next to me, he walked to the foot of the bed. The sight of a naked man crawling up to my exposed sex made my legs submissively spread open for him. He settled on his stomach between my legs, his head hovering over my pussy, and his arms folded over my legs so that his hands could manipulate my sensitive flesh.

Roberto gave me an intimate exam. He spoke in medical terms, naming the parts of my vulva as his fingers separated, pushed, tugged, and rubbed. Speaking so close to my sex, his breath and the sound waves of his voice tickled my clitoris. Recent, multiple orgasms made my folds loose and pliable and they tingled when he pulled them apart so he could huff on my clit. Anxious for his tongue to join the fray, I trembled with anticipation. When he stopped talking, I watched his mouth disappear behind my mons; suddenly, all heaven broke loose.

I almost fear receiving cunnilingus because it makes me so submissive. His tireless tongue took liberties with my sex for thirty minutes, producing uncountable orgasms. When he stopped and got up, my eyes opened to perceive the room in a dreamy haze. I watched him take a condom from a nightstand drawer and roll it onto his once again, erect cock.

He came up over me, paused to guide his penis into my gaping opening, and settled on top of me. I wrapped my legs around his hips and my arms around his back. His powerful thrusts rocked my body; my vagina clung to his sliding member like a finger-puzzle, allowing entry but resisting exit. He fucked me through several vaginal orgasms until he came while inside me. The condom prevented feeling the wet gush of his discharge, but his body convulsions and vocal cords clearly registered his orgasm.

An extended repose while our energies recharged allowed me to interrogate my partner further. Other intermissions later would add to my knowledge of his background. Based on our relationship becoming deeply intimate, he felt comfortable giving frank answers.

A high percentage of his clientele are older widows and that suits his business. Demographics of the year-round residents contribute to a steady customer base that is religious in adherence to routine. He claimed fewer than half of his customers know about his sensual talents. Only a handful of them receive treatments beyond happy endings. His spa harem is largely geriatric; there's no drama involved and the kindly ladies contribute significant gratuities for his attention. Of the clients who seek his sensual attention, most are either widowed or have sex-dead spouses. He knows that a few married women hide their status, pretending to be divorced, separated, or widowed, but it doesn't matter to him.

Evidently, he liked granny-types. Was I just another well-worn saddle to ride? He insisted I was special from the moment he saw me. Through some fateful coincidence, I reminded him so strongly of an aunt of his that took his virginity, that he could not resist reliving his youth through my resemblance. He also declared that the energy of my orgasms enthralled him. Because I allowed him to pursue his fantasies and I was such a passionate partner, he didn't want me to pay for his sexual services. Our sex wasn't a business transaction; it was personal.

He felt compassion for my husband and his failures, recognizing incredible generosity in the freedom my spouse gives me to enjoy sex. Roberto feels privileged to provide the joy and satisfaction that I seek. When he effused so much praise for the permission I had, I sadly explained my current reluctance to admit my experiences to my husband. Roberto encouraged me to bring everything into the open; such a giving man deserved to know his gift was appreciated was his advice. He didn't want to feel he was seeing me behind my husband's back.

We relived his passion several more times that afternoon. His cock sprang to life again and again. An episode of sixty-nine led to another fuck with me on top. Following a short rest, he gave me a tender massage of my back and legs. When he entered me again, this time doggie style, his forceful thrusts pinned me down. He made some movements before I felt warm oil running down my crack. He pulled out of my vagina and forced his way thru my anus. I've only had anal twice before and didn't like it; my husband's thick cock caused me pain. Roberto's thinner penis caused less discomfort. I didn't feel any arousal but I let him go until he shot the last of his cum while inside my ass.

When I finally left, I noticed three used condoms lying on the floor like tick marks on a scorecard. Was I just an accomplishment for him? Was he using me to indulge himself? Perhaps he was, but using him was my purpose from the beginning so I had no reason to complain. His generous gift of free massages and extended sex activities said I was more than a lady in his harem.

I walked out more stiffly than I came in but intensely satisfied. At home, I had just enough time to shower and make dinner. My husband was tired and we watched an old movie before we retired. He slept soundly while I spent most of the night wrestling with thoughts that prepared me to discuss the past with my husband.