tagErotic CouplingsThe First True Story

The First True Story

byzeropointone©

I have written only one other story for Internet publishing under a different guise and that was some years ago. I shan't bother to tell you the alias as the story wasn't very good anyway. After, (or should I say 'while') writing it, I soon became enormously aware of how much more difficult it was to write an interesting erotic story than I had previously though. However, after reading many of the stories and being increasingly intrigued and of course stimulated, I decided to write another one. The problem of course was what to write about. Although I there are a number of themes I could employ, it dawned on me that the stories I enjoyed reading most were either the true ones; insofar as the author is being honest, or the stories which I could believe were true. Thus why not tell a true story of my own. I have led an active sex life and though the majority of encounters have been fairly ordinary, I have also had my share of wild and weird experiences. They may not be as spectacular as some things I have read on this site, but are certainly interesting and definitely believable. This is one such story and though names and places have changed the details and events are all true. This is the first of many interesting tales I intend to write about my sexual experiences thus far in life.

This is a true story

We had only been married a year. Well ten months to be exact. My wife Natasha is from Russia and very attractive, 27 years old, 5' 2" or thereabouts and a size 6. So, needless to say she is quite petite, with small pert breasts and a nice firm full ass. I can't say she is the best lay that I have had but she is good. She likes sex, which is good for me because I pretty much want it whenever I can get it, though I am not what I would consider to be a sex maniac. I am 38, 5' 9" and have been athletic all my life. I'm fit, toned, and very healthy. We had lived together for just over a year and decided to get married. I cannot say; because I am not entirely certain, that I was in love with her but we were definitely happy together. I do know she loved me and in fact still does in spite of what I am about to tell you. After we got married, things went more or less downhill. It was not a sudden change but definitely a noticeable one. The self-centered aspects of her nature began to surface along with selfishness and a host of other negative character traits. Now I must admit that if it had not been for expiration of her visa and consequent ejection from the country, I would not have married her. This is not because I didn't care about her, but it was really just too soon to be sure. Still, I didn't want to lose her as at the time things were great and of course I though she was everything I wanted in a person.

After we were married it took a few months for her visa to be processed but once this was done she could work legally. She got a good job in a law firm; she had previously been studying law in Russia and was a year away from being appointed to the bar, so naturally she continued in her chosen profession. This is when the most significant changes were made in her attitude and though she denies it to this day I have a different opinion. I am not saying that I didn't have my faults either but I was prepared to admit to them and work on the problems, while she seemed content to dismiss them or make no compromise. I suppose I should mention she had been married twice before and still thought quite a lot of her previous husband. She maintained contact with him through the Internet and I saw no harm in this. What she didn't know was that I knew the password to he email account and would often check her mail to keep tabs on her. I am not jealous, but you know how it is when you are in a relationship and things just aren't working or you suspect evil is afoot. You simply go into self-preservation and justification mode, and that is exactly what I did. I felt quite justified in my actions and can't say that I was surprised at what I found. They both spoke as though they were still in a relationship, lovers clearly separated by distance but not intent. I would read these messages with rage but after 10 minutes it would evaporate and I would become this calm, collected man again. I tried with some success to rationalize their behavior but it still left me somewhat uneasy. I said nothing to my wife. a.) Because I was ashamed of the fact that I had been spying on her, even though I feel it was justified and b.)Because I wanted to see what would happen between her and her ex. I would sometimes reread the messages engulfed in pain and anger only to have it subside after a few minutes to be replaced with glowing affection for this woman who clearly had no intentions of being honest or moral.

Somehow though I managed, and in a way this changed the way I looked at her. I began to desire her and treasure her more. I was more attentive and prepared to deal with issues that had for the most part been neglected. She too responded to my change in nature and became a much more loving and sensitive woman, but still the letters to her ex-husband continued. I knew that nothing had happened as he was five hours away in Moscow, but that didn't matter, the intent was clearly there and I knew given the opportunity she wouldn't hesitate for a second. Still I could not stem the tide of affection that this was causing in me. It was unsettling but not overwhelming. In the evening she would normally get home after me and I would be shaking with anticipation for her to arrive. I can't explain why but I would have such passionate feelings for her that I would literally pounce on her as soon as she came through the door. We would kiss like teenagers. I would be ravenous with my tongue.

Viciously kissing her and smearing her lipstick, then almost brutally knawing and kissing my way through her body with intense sexual urgency. This is weird I know but true. I cannot begin to think how my mind was working and to this day, it has me puzzled. I have always been a self assured male with no question marks over my masculinity or identity. I have always understood myself, and apart from my early teens when I first began to learn the rules of women and relationships like most men, I have never taken any abuse, crap, or maltreatment from a woman. I am not a bastard or chauvinist, but believe in pride and honesty for all sexes. That said, I still could not help myself. I would lick and kiss her all over before she even had time to put down her briefcase. She always looked great when she went to the office and I couldn't stop myself. I would lick her legs, under her blouse and muzzle the peach fuzz on her back. I'd pull up her skirt and gawk at her stocking clad legs like adolescent teenager, throw her over the couch or on the floor and dive for the crack of her arse pulling her g-string panties aside and thrusting my tongue into her anus and then slobbering over her pussy like a child with an ice cream cone. I would especially like it when she had been walking around all day and he arse and cunt would smell strong and heavenly.

Needless to say she loved the attention, and of course sex throughout the evening would usually ensue. It was great. After we had finished, usually both thoroughly exhausted I would feel cheap and dirty! Yes supposedly female emotions I know, but I couldn't help myself. I was gradually reeled into the pool of her being, both physically and emotionally. The strangest thing is that I was so overcome with desire, lust, and joy; I don't think I would have stopped or questioned my behavior even if I could. I would forbid her to bath and sometimes force her to go to work for two or three days (that is all I could get her to comply with) without washing and only wearing deodorant so I could sniff her fragrant body and lick greedily at her privates when she came in. I would sleep with my head in her crouch, usually waking in the night to sniff and lick her all over again. I was insatiable and fucked her like a man possessed. My penis is not small and she (and most women) normally complain if I sink it all the way in but after a good half hour of gently teasing her into stretching she would holler for more until sore. I can normally fuck without coming for extended periods so really fucked her like a trooper whenever I could.

Needless to say this improved our relationship somewhat and we could be seen hugging and kissing a lot more, even my friends remarked on it. My immense sexual craving for her was definitely improving our relationship.

Now, it wasn't like we didn't have a good sex life before, but I suppose with me lavishing attention on her in this manner it must have felt like new love. We began to drastically improve our relationship, really started to communicate like people in love. She began to take heed of her behavior and we both started taking responsibility for our issues. We were so much happier and addressed our problems with renewed vigor. We would really talk, not just like lovers but as friends too. I enjoyed her company like a breath of fresh air. However to my surprise instead of her correspondence with her husband waning, I found her channeling even more energy in to her messages. This didn't infuriate me, but I was disheartened. At the same time, deep down I was thriving on this illicit affair and the energy it game me. It drove the passion in me to new heights and sometimes I would fuck her brutally, then immediately change to loving and gentle softness, then again brutally, then soft and tenderly as if I were handling a baby. I would relish both the feelings of anger she evoked in me and feel like crying at the tenderness I felt towards her. Other times I would fuck her like a demon, relentless in my onslaught with hate and bitterness until she wept with pain and fear. I would see real fright in her face sometimes. She would cower from me in fear, and then I would slowly stroke her hair and kiss her tears away lovingly until she clung to me with grief and desperation.

Nearly always I would pounce on her when she came in, I couldn't help myself. I would fuck her with insane vigor for an hour or two then after we had eaten and cuddled for an hour I would continue to fuck her till we went to sleep then sometimes through the night. As the messages between her and her husband continued, the rage began to fester and I needed more from her. I quite simply became more depraved. I should let you know, that my wife really loves to orgasm (don't all women) it really changes her attitude sometimes for days if she gets a good fuck. With a few orgasms under her skin she can be the most loving caring person in the world. I am not foolish enough to think that I can satisfy every woman I have made love to, but my wife is one of those fortunate women who although does not orgasm particularly easily can orgasm many times. I know her body well and normally with a lot of effort and even more sweat I can get three orgasms from her.

If I am attentive beyond compare I can get four. Well, at this period I was getting four and five fairly regularly and even six sometimes which really freaked her out!! You must understand I wasn't just obsessed with sexual desire but genuine passion and love (god forbid). It did strange things to my mind and I made love to her as I did with no woman. I would coax, tease, pump, pound, drive, squeeze, and entice the orgasms from her. Normally each progressive orgasm she experiences is quite different. The first would usually be the most intense, but not I think (and this is only my perception) the most fulfilling or enjoyable. They would last progressively longer and she would lose herself in them as the numbers mounted. By the time she got to number four she would often be hugging me like a child and crying like a baby. Something I could never really understand. Additionally past number two she would start to wet herself (and anything else she was lying on) she simply couldn't control herself and often wouldn't even realize she was doing it. Sometimes I would be fucking her and when I knew she was starting to orgasm I would dive down to her pussy trying desperately to drink and lick the spurting urine, relishing the taste while I did this. I got so hooked on the taste and sensation I would increasingly make her sit on top of me and press my palm gently on her bladder while fucking her to induce her to urinate when she came. I can only describe the feeling of her warm piss flooding over my belly, chest and cock as heavenly (pardon me oh lord!).

Although she doesn't like anal sex she does like analingus and would encourage and sometimes beg me to stick my tongue as far up her arse as I could. I would lick her arsehole like a dog and while fucking her would always stick as many fingers as she would let me as far as I could inside her arse, then pull them out and lick the pungent but highly erotic smelling slime off my fingers. Before making love to her, sometimes even in the middle of the night, I would make her stick her own fingers in her mouth then up her arse swivel them around then bring her hand to my face and suck them clean. Sometimes I would do this repeatedly. This would always give me an instant hard on and I would often be unable to control myself ad fuck her immediately. I know she didn't particularly enjoy some of these activities but I do know she did love me and liked to see me sexually content. Sometimes I would wake her in the morning with my tongue, licking her pussy thighs, backs of her legs, knees, feet, toes, everything. She absolutely loves having her feet kneaded; kissed, sucked you name it. She even likes it when I put my cock between her feet and has often attempted to 'wank me off' with them (unsuccessfully I might add). Anyway after this I would gently ease her into a sitting position over my head and make her urinate directly in my mouth. Guys you may sadly shake your heads at this, but I can only say try it before you knock it. I have no doubt that my sexual fixation had more to do with the pleasure I received from this than anything, but it was just depravedly gratifying.

It is a lot harder to swallow that much urine than you would image, or than I imagined. And it is strangely powerful stuff first thing in the morning, but also quite delicious. I would lap at her pussy for at least five minutes once I had finished before letting her lie down again. It is quite difficult for her to orgasm through oral sex but this always prepared her nicely for other things. After good (and gentle) oral attention I can bring her off with my hand, which she always prefers on her first orgasm. I don't touch he clit for at least five minutes, though preferably for ten or fifteen. I work alternately, gently and firmly, everywhere from her navel to thighs. Eventually, I circle my finger on her clit but not for too long before going back to another area. When I touch it I have to be gentler than with anything I have ever handled. Even the slightest pressure from my tongue is too much.

I caress it for longer and longer periods with the very tip of my index finger, as lightly as if a fairy were dancing on it. After a few cycles of this alternation I know she is ready. Fists clenched, back arched she starts clawing at the sheets. Little droplets of urine are forced from her and I have to resist the temptation to lick them up. Lighter than a feather, I continue to circle her clit with my finger until her whole body tenses. At this point if she hasn't already grabbed my hand and forced it brutally on her clit, I press hard on her clit with my index finger and forefinger allowing them to rest just slightly either side of it and rub it vigorously up and down. Her orgasm is explosive and she will scratch, claw and squeeze anything that she has hold of, she will wet herself again and her pussy secretes a thick milky fluid that I am only allowed to lick off her three of four minutes after her orgasm has subsided. At this point her clit is so sensitive it cannot be touched by anything or it is quite painful for her. Until she has recovered from her orgasm, I take great pleasure in licking the salty sweat from anywhere I can find it on her body.

During this period of our marriage we talked more than ever and I really reclaimed the love or affection I had for her. She would look at me with longing in her eyes and communicate with me with true love and caring. I was happy but I knew something was still not right as she was still writing her husband as though they were lovers. It didn't stop the conflict inside me being released sexually and in spite of myself I loved her more and fucked her even more than ever.

On the fist occasion that she had a fifth orgasm, a funny thing happened. I was fucking her as intimately as I can imagine. Although I was enjoying it enormously I was also hell bent on her satisfaction. She was on her back and I had my arms holding up her legs. I was pumping hard and lifting her arse of the bed with my arms, plunging deeply into her and alternately playing with her arsehole with the fingers of my right hand. She came so intensely she completely lost control of herself and actually shat on the bed. She didn't even realize initially as she was crying from her orgasm and quite emotional. Even though I knew what had happened I continued to kiss her body quite passionately. I whispered in her ear and asked her if she knew what she had done and when she said no still shaking, I told her. She was so embarrassed she ran to the toilet and cried for an hour.

Funny though, I didn't mind the smell or the site of the mess, such was my feeling for her. Even though I am not into scat I didn't mind cleaning everything up and eventually enticed her out of the bathroom with understanding words. We continued our blissful way and the next day as we had sex after about four orgasms the same thing happened. This time it was just a trace of shit that had sneaked out of her arse. So I said nothing. I didn't want to upset her but didn't want her to soil the sheets so I put her on all fours. I continued to fuck her. Screwing her with wanton abandon knowing I had given her so much pleasure she shit herself. I was thrusting deeply into her, circling my hips massaging both the entrance and depths of her pussy with my penis. I could feel her tensing. She was moaning and thrusting back on me, gripping the sheets and as much of the mattress as she could get into her small hands. I was ecstatic. The site of her beautiful bottom flexing in font of me with a smear of shit on her anus was electric. I could see her anus pulsing as she flexed the muscles involuntarily.

Then her orgasm hit. As she came her body tensed like a steel frame and I thrust my penis inside her to the hilt and kept it there. This must have been like the pinnacle of pleasure for her, as she didn't so much scream as choke a shout through what looked like a pain filled grimace. The veins in her neck stood out like pipes under her skin. Her face was red as a beetroot and her eyes though tightly closed looked like they would pop out of her head. I was just beginning to withdraw my cock from her pussy, when from her arse came a long circular shit that smoothly emerged from her now wide open anus and nestled neatly around the base of my penis like an oversized ring. It was warm, steaming, and light brown in colour. She slumped forward on the bed and cried like a child.

I stood there, penis still stiff determined to show her the little prize she had given me before I disposed of it. The eroticism of what just happened kept my penis stiff so fortunately it didn't fall off, and I sat beside her rubbing her shoulders and caressing her. When she finally stopped crying and leaned up to embrace me still tearful, I said look there. Her hand flew to her mouth, which had opened wide with surprise. I calmly got up, used my thumb and forefinger to remove it from my penis before displaying it blatantly before her, then walked to the bathroom and deposited it down the toilet. I didn't even wash but went straight back to the bedroom where I sat reassuring her with hugs and kisses until she relaxed.

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