Tasting the Forbidden Fruit

I sat back to enjoy the aftermath of what I had wrought. The soft mewing sounds and body shudders were rewarding—evidence of a satisfactory job. The duration of the delirium was like a performance meter. A full minute in the throes of the after shocks was something of a target, but one that was rarely achieved.

I climbed up on the bed beside my post orgasmic house guest and wasn't particularly surprised to find that my erection was at half mast. Concentrating on her needs and focusing on her every reaction left little room to sustain my own arousal.

Propping my head up on my elbow watching her perfect twenty something body twitch, blood began to pump back into my member. Recalling her offer 'I could do something for you too... if you want,' made my balls ache.

I wasn't using a stop watch but when her eyes flickered open and she smiled I decided to give myself an eight out of ten.

Seeming a little less coordinated than usual she twisted around on the bed and pulled my lounging suit pants, along with my briefs, down to my knees. Looking up at me with her big blue eyes it was a scene straight out of a porn movie and my balls reacted as expected. Her blonde curls were short enough that the toss of her head to get them out of the way as she descended on my uncut penis was really unnecessary, but adorable nonetheless.

Retracting my foreskin and planting a kiss on the very tip before probing the slit with her tongue told me that she'd not only done this before, but that she'd had some expert coaching. It had been a quarter of a century since lips other than my wife's had been on my organ, and not surprisingly her technique was thrillingly different. I didn't focus on the details of what she was doing but just let the marvelous sensations flow together. If there was a moment when the sinfulness of this never dreamed of tryst tried to emerge I managed to push it aside and immerse myself in the pure sensuality.

What was making the experience all the more pleasurable was perception that Greta was enjoying her task.

If you truly enjoy giving head, and you're not doing for selfish reasons, then you'll be good at it. The German college girl was GOOD.

I put my hands on Greta's head pushing her gently away when I felt my balls clench and the inevitable discharge was only seconds away. My wife, as with many women, did not like cum in her mouth. In fact in my not inconsiderable sexual experience I'd only encountered two women who were okay with it. Greta turned out to be the third.

She not only ignored my warning, she sucked harder. The release was magnificent to say the least. It felt like she was pulling my nuts right out through the end of my dick and she didn't stop until after the fourth and final ejaculation.

It was my turn to lie there in the other dimension unable to think or even comprehend the events of the real world.

When my senses began to return I heard water running from the tap in the bathroom, the one that I'd come to repair—remember? The unbelievability of what had happened in the previous hour hit me. My sexually satiated body chemistry allowed my big head to take over and my guilty conscience to overwhelm me.

'What would I say to her when she returned... what would she say to me?'

Cowardice won out and I pulled up my pants and left. She might have pursued me but she didn't. I went to my bedroom and got properly dressed. Walking around in pajamas, alone in the house with my daughter's gorgeous friend now seemed inappropriate—incriminating.

Greta spent the rest of our time alone in the bedroom packing. When Mary and Lisa came in I struggled to hide my guilt feelings, but judging from my wife's quizzical looks I had the feeling that I hadn't done a very good job. My conscience colored my perception.

As I sit here writing this on New Year's Eve, Mary is up in the kitchen preparing food for our traditional private celebration.

I'd been barely able to look Greta in the face when I dropped them off at the bus last evening. She, on the other hand, behaved as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

It felt weird shaking her hand at the doorway to the bus loading platform after hugging my daughter. It was one of the few times I was able to make eye contact with her following our adulterous afternoon. There were many ways to interpret the sparkle in her eye and the adorable smile on her lips.

As I watched them board the bus I realized it was most likely that I would never see her again.

I'm thinking about buying the diamond necklace that Mary's had her eyes on for quite a while. I know that the gift would be for me and not her; a hopeless attempt to quell the guilt. Ironically it would probably raise suspicions that don't currently exist.

I'm trying to exonerate myself—blame it all on the German temptress—so far without success. I'm going to have to find away to make it up to the love of my life in a way that soothes my conscience without creating an entirely new problem.