The Way It Is

Appearing to give it some thought first, Marissa nodded subtly. "Yes. That would be nice. Thank you."

She laid down on her tummy, on the patio daybed. Sam leaned in from the side and began to spread the lotion, keeping up a constant stream of flattery and compliments, while he rubbed it in. After a while, he calmly swung a leg over, and, as if hoping she wouldn't notice, straddled her butt--ostensibly so that he could more evenly apply the sunscreen. He carried on, without pause, spreading the thick liquid from over and across her shoulders, down the sides of her chest, around her waist, and working it in to her lower back, right down to the tops of her buttocks, even dipping his fingers just under the edge of her bikini--taking care not to leave wet or white areas.

Gradually putting some force into his manipulations, Sam danced his fingers up and down Marissa's back, either side of her spine in what had become a skilled massage. Without hesitation--nor consultation--Sam undid her bathing suit top and proceeded to spread lotion on the now exposed sides of Marissa's breasts, leaning over her back, as he did, and whispering, tantalizingly, in her ear, "Let me tell you, if you were my wife, I sure wouldn't leave you alone with two, big, virile young guys!" Then he sat up quickly, with a chuckle, and scooted down her legs to spread sunscreen over the underside of her butt cheeks, and down the backs of her legs.

"Shall we roll you over and do the front?" He didn't wait for an answer.

With a couple of slick moves, Sam managed to manhandle his boss up into sitting position perched on the edge of the settee. Her hands clasped the loose bikini top to her boobs, as she peered about in a bit of a haze; but, before she could get her bearings, Sam pushed her back backwards onto the patio couch. He, then, swung her legs up, leaving her supine on the daybed, swinging, at the same time, his own leg over to straddle her hips. Simultaneously, he lifted her hands from her chest, and, laying them gently at her sides, whispered, "Relax."

Sam circled his hands over her toned abs, before running them in parallel up her chest to swirl his fingers under her loose cups, circling, but not touching her nipples. Marissa's eyes went suddenly wide, and he fixed her gaze with a challenging stare. She returned his stare, looking as if she were about to say something--but she remained silent.

Just as suddenly Sam broke the mutual eye-lock, pulled his hands free, sat up straight, and began to work on her shoulders, chest, arms, and tummy--innocently spreading protective lotion. He shuffled right down, over her knees and ankles, attending to her thighs, legs, and feet. As the massage traveled back up Marissa's legs, Sam leaned forward from sitting on her feet, his manipulations subtly becoming more erotic caress than sunscreen spreading massage.

Subconsciously, both Marissa and Sam realized at the same time that Sam had just won the unacknowledged competition--he had finally seduced Issa. Moving up on all fours to cover her, Sam initiated making out--a la the baseball analogy: getting to 'first base'--their necking becoming increasingly passionate.

Sam flippantly flipped Marissa's loose top right out of the way, and onto the patio deck. With nary a hesitation, he began playing with her tits--sucking her boobs, nibbling her swollen pinks before taking her whole areola into his mouth and chewing on her nipples--eliciting involuntary moans and gasps from this marvelous MILF.

In short order, Sam was 'rounding second': Mauling a boob with one hand, while munching voraciously on the other breast, his free hand migrated down to her crotch--combing through her pubic bush to cup her vee. Sam was, very soon, 'stealing third'--with an almost sleight-of-hand, he had Marissa's bikini bottoms peeled off, down her legs and free of her feet. Before she even had time to object, he was stroking her slit, separating her puffy labia, and spreading her nectar, which was gathering in the folds of her sex. Drawing his fingers back up along the furrow of her puffy lips, he paused, taking time to swirl and flick her rapidly distending clit. Gratified by the breathy gasp, he continued stroking his fingers back down between her lubricated pussy flesh, then up again, poking a fingertip further into her vaginal opening with every successive stroke. Soon enough, he was rhythmically finger-fucking her--knuckle-deep, one, then two, then three fingers. Marissa's first orgasm was almost unbearable. It was easily as strong as any she had ever had with Derwin--or anyone else for that matter. And her subsequent climaxes were frenzies of uncontrolled bliss.

Next afternoon, after ensuring that Mr Phelps was well on his way into the city, Sam banged open the side gate and strutted onto the patio. Striding up to the sliding back door, he let himself into the kitchen, and was helping himself to a drink when Marissa descended the stairs, carrying a towel and wearing the tiniest string bikini. "Ah, there you are, my slutty little nymph. Dressed for the occasion, I see." Marissa blushed, then, with a what-the-hell glitter in her eyes, gave a model's spin before heading out onto the deck, landing on the patio-couch.

As Sam approached, clutching his Speedo-encased package and reaching for Marissa's towel, she was seized by a terrible pang of guilt. While they were understandable, her protests were, really, very clichéd. "No, we mustn't. Yesterday was a mistake, however enjoyable. I love my husband. Don't want to be a cheater."

"Oh, come on," Sam insisted. "You had your fun. You can't just leave me hanging after all that. I mean, fair's fair." He stopped and just looked at her, disappointment virtually dripping from his eyes. "You play with me--tit for tat. Even things up. Then we'll reconsider, eh?"

Feeling more than a little conflicted, Marissa, finally agreed to giving him a hand-job.

Sam lay back, supine across the love-seat. Marissa, standing beside him, reached in and, pulling on the waistband of his Speedo, unwrapped his stiffening member. Sam assisted by kicking the swimsuit off, launching it over the end of the couch, onto the deck.

Studying his thickening appendage, Marissa began stroking it--switching hands as it became inexorably firmer. Sam was valiantly holding back. Eventually, both of Marissa's arms began to ache with fatigue. So, Sam suggested giving her arms a break by using her lips. Marissa strenuously objected, at first. "Awww," Sam whined, rather histrionically, "Just give 'im a little kiss--a kiss and a lick. Make 'im feel better."

After reconsidering, given the multiple climaxes he had given her, Marissa relented. Leaning in, reaching with her tongue, she gave him a peck on the top of his helmeted head. In response, his impressive erection stood up even straighter--and proud, like the bowsprit on a brigantine. It was definitely bigger than Derwin's, but she actually had no basis of comparison, other than a few vaguely remembered blue movies from before she was married--when she was a young adult--when she was still a virgin. Marissa, really, only had Sam's word for it, that his cock was impressively large. In fact, from brief glimpses, she had caught in the pool, Valasi was, perhaps, more well-hung. Not that she believed she'd ever find out.

Meanwhile, Sam had run his free hand up the inside of her thigh. When he reached her bathing-suit crotch, he hooked his fingertips in and set about stroking her furrow, once more--spreading her labia, dipping into her vagina, and flicking her clitoris; and once again she raced up to another very strong orgasm. Quivering through the climax, she reached out with her tongue, holding it against Sam's throbbing shaft, ostensibly to support her head, as the waves of ecstasy finally passed. Coming down off her orgasmic high, she could see no point in not continuing to lick the rampant erection vibrating in her face.

"Now take it in your mouth," Sam hissed--one part direction and one part suggestion. He was delighted with how quickly, how smoothly they had progressed to a blow-job. "Suck it like a Popscicle!" And Marissa complied, engulfing the swollen head. He resisted the urge to thrust his hips up to meet the tentative bobbing of her head, as she gradually took him deeper and deeper into her throat. "Let her succeed at her own speed," he silently advised. Still holding on, with his arm around her near thigh, Sam slowly lifted her captured leg and gently pulled it over his torso, leaving her straddling his upper chest. As she settled, knees either side of his chest, focused as she was on taking him increasingly deeper into her throat, while continuing to thrill to his dancing fingers feeding the arousal in her genitals, Sam pushed her bathing suit gusset out of the way and began taking over from his fingertips with his long, warm, wet tongue. In less than a dozen strokes along the length of her glistening slit, Marissa was seized by yet another immense orgasm. Now she was getting into unfamiliar territory, the intensity of the last few orgasms was well beyond what she had, in the past, considered mind-blowing--and this one was stronger than anything she had ever experienced.

As she came down off her high, she struggled to regain her rhythm--bobbing her head over Sam's rigid rod. An apparent natural, her blowjob was, for a rank beginner, very impressive. Redoubling her efforts to swallow him whole, Marissa's fellatio was soon producing the expected results. Heaving his hips up with a loud bellow, Sam feathered his hands over her ears as he jetted volley after volley of his thick sweet cum directly into her gullet. Pulling back abruptly, the final spurt filled her mouth, causing her to cough and gag; but, to her credit, she managed to swallow it all.

Sam assisted Marissa to roll off and rest on her back beside him, where they both lay panting, catching their breath, for a spell. Marissa silently marveled: how could something that felt so, so good, be something she should be feeling guilty about? It was, she decided, a moral dilemma she was unequipped to deal with. With her body still shuddering from the echoes of the ecstasy, she sat up, gathered up her discarded garments, stood, and, with a mute nod to Sam, shuffled back into the house and out of sight. Sam wasn't sure if he felt satisfied or dissatisfied--just that he thought there was more there, and he was going to explore it.

The following few days, Marissa stayed out of sight; but Sam was prepared, and the next time Marissa was out, he, once again, sent Valasi, out to the far reaches of the estate.

Entering the pool deck area quietly and respectfully, this time, setting down his towel and kit, he unobtrusively got in the pool and swam a few laps without actually acknowledging his landlady and employer. Initially waiting for him to make a move, Marissa felt suddenly neglected. Sitting up, she waited until Sam had paused at the end of a length, then asked him, in as nonchalant a manner as she could muster, "Excuse me, Sam. Would you mind spreading sunscreen on my back, please?"

"Not at all," Sam replied, hefting himself out of the water and striding over to grab his towel before approaching Marissa.

He directed her to lie prone to begin with--head cradled in her crooked arms, stretched out on her tummy, boobs flattened beneath her. He carefully straddled her bum, diligently rubbing sunscreen onto her neck--under and around her halter tie, then over her shoulders and upper arms, and onto her back. Sam paused a moment, before untying the back string of her bikini top, giving Marissa ample time to protest. She remained quiet, so he continued, vigorously rubbing the thick lotion down her lower back and around her waist. Skipping over her bikini bottoms, and shuffling his own butt down to her feet, he finished applying the creme to her hips, her exposed bottom, and her legs--without incident.

"Now, then...," he mumbled, and, giving her a moment to gather her loosened top, he rolled her to the supine--onto her back. Their eyes flashed a shared uncertainty for an instant, before Sam, once again, set to conscientiously applying SPF protection to Marissa's collarbones and upper chest area, not dipping too deeply into her cleavage, then her lower rib-cage and her toned abs, before working his way back up her chest. Moving his focus back to her eyes, Sam, silently, snaked both his hands in under bikini bra-cups, lying loose atop her breasts. Without pausing, he grabbed her tits--one in each hand--and began firmly mauling them, punctuating his attack with random pinching and twisting Marissa's unprotected nipples.

Startled, Marissa gasped and panted, at first from surprise, then from arousal--not to mention the surprising intensity of her response to his stimulation. Continuing with his twiddling fingertip assault on her rapidly stiffening buds, Sam leaned in to whisper, cryptically, "One good oral bout deserves another. Don't you think?" Sliding himself down her body, he hissed in explanation, "Cunnilingus in exchange for the other day's fellatio--blowjob. My protein milkshake in exchange for your pussy-juice--your feminine nectar. Sound like a deal?" He didn't wait for a reply.

He simply went down. Gliding over Marissa's abdomen, Sam's body settled, gently pushing her legs apart, until his mouth was poised over her crotch. He paused, looking up at her--over her tummy and between her luscious knockers--and winked, giving her his most mischievous smile. Then, dropping down into her vee, he demonstrated how easy it was to twist his tongue past the skinny gusset of her string bikini--a thong, actually--and delve tongue-first into her grotto.

"Eeeewww," Marissa objected. "That's dirty--disgusting!" While Marissa felt she'd been married since Hector was a pup, her sexual experience was limited--to say the least. Oh, for the first few years they'd made love, or had nookie, several times a week, but it was never very adventurous--mainly missionary position in the dark. The extent of their adventures, besides occasionally leaving a bedside lamp on, was, if Marissa was menstruating, Derwin would 'let her do him' by hand--stroke him hard and finish him off with a frantic hand-job.

Marissa kicked out her legs, trying to buck him off--to no avail. Sam puzzled, for a moment, at her 'women's logic'. "Doesn't she see that it is no better or worse than fellatio which she had already, not just engaged in, but thoroughly enjoyed?" She squeezed her thighs together, squeezing Sam's cheeks, like he was a pimple she was trying to pop. Still, he persevered, lapping at her furrow, which, despite her vociferous objections, was already, seriously moist.

Sam's licking was becoming frenetic, as he luxuriated in the wonderful smell of Marissa's sex, and the delicious taste of her now flowing juices. Surreptitiously Sam pulled the side laces and released Marissa's bikini bottoms, letting them peel back and fall away.

Writhing as he stroked with increasing firmness up and down her slit, Marissa tried to deal with a tsunami of confusing sensations. Around the time Derwin had turned fifty, he'd begun experiencing some erectile dysfunction. As well, he'd started expressing a growing apathy towards sex. By the time his ED had degenerated into full-blown impotence, he had no interest in sex, anyway. This had left Marissa with a sadly lacking sexual repertoire; and, virtually, nothing but her fingers--in the bathroom--late at night--for years.

Meanwhile, Sam continued teasing her, circling around her clitoris without actually making contact. Finally, though, he let his tongue reach her clit, and, by simply flicking it a few times, he had her just about screaming in delight. "Omigod!" It was a new experience for her--this cunnilingus, and she humped her hips up, trying to meet, to prolong every swipe and slurp of Sam's talented tongue over her clitoris.

"Has no one ever eaten you out before?" Sam asked, amazed at the obvious answer. "Oh, my, you've been sheltered--and deprived."

Marissa whimpered, "No, no, no," over and over, while her squirming body--humping hips and thrashing shoulders--almost yelling, "Yes, yes, yes!"

Helping her to rationalize, Sam quietly suggested, "It's not really cheating if you don't actually fuck. I mean, no intercourse, no penetration--it's not fornication; ergo, it's not cheating!" A cute bit of very fuzzy logic, to be sure, but it appeased Ms Conway, for the moment. Notwithstanding, from there they rapidly proceeded to actual fucking, anyway. Taking advantage of Marissa's rather thick, post-orgasmic fog, Sam shuffled smoothly into position between her legs.

Giving a short introduction to his modest-sized prick--Sam was pretty proud of his equipment, a skookum nine-incher when aroused, a thick, sturdy shaft, with a hot, nicely flanged cockhead. Showing it off, he bounced the turgid member on Marissa's puffy mound. He, then, paused, holding himself still for an instant, before taking aim, and gradually bulling his swollen cockhead against Marissa's already blossoming labia. Pushing into her furrow, he flexed and stretched and separated her pussy lips, spreading her flow over his now firmly erect hard-on. Once his shaft was glistening with moisture, Sam thrust his hips forward, shoving himself deep into Marissa's welcoming twat--meeting very little resistance--while giving her her first very rewarding experience with a real medium-big cock.

Pausing momentarily, to appreciate the intertwining of their pubic hair, Sam slowly withdrew. When they were only still connected by his helmeted head, he pushed himself steadily back in, until his pubis smacked hers. His thrusting settled into a rhythmic stroking, eliciting in Marissa wave upon wave of orgasmic pleasure--an ecstasy more intense than anything she'd ever known.

She felt a modicum of guilt, but rationalized that Derwin was away so much, and so negligent in his husbandry duties, that she was excused for succumbing to extra-marital attention. Sex with Sam was a hell of a lot of fun, and once she'd crossed the line--that wide, blurry line--she could see no reason not to continue, as long as it was enjoyable. Sam was the biggest cock Marissa had ever experienced; furthermore, he had admirable endurance, staying power, and amazingly quick recovery time. He could go hard at it--if you'll excuse the pun--for twenty minutes to half an hour without ejaculating, and could be ready to fuck again within five minutes of cumming.

Marissa was coming to love Sam, or at least delight in the carnal sensations his big dick provided. She thrilled to the fullness, a much more complete fullness than she had previously known. She thrilled, too, to the deep stimuli of nerve endings that Derwin had never reached--had never touched; even when he had been younger and still relatively virile. Marissa kept wanting to enjoy it over and over. Sam was only too happy to oblige. And so their affair carried on more or less 'steady as she goes'; usually while Valasi was out on estate detail.

Marissa was able to bury her guilt through her series of lame rationalizations, and she continued to enjoy a potpourri of positions and activities, many of which she had never even imagined. Life was good.

And, unknown to Marissa, Sam gleefully shared all the sordid details of these trysts with Valasi. Until, one fine afternoon, Marissa knelt between Sam's knees, giving him a blowjob--her talent for fellatio had already grown by leaps and bounds--after about an hour of fucking in the boys' apartment.

Valasi came off the estate early, and, innocently enough, arrived, unheard, back at the mansion--back at the carriage-house apartment. Hearing muted voices from above, Valasi quietly ascended the staircase to halt on the top step. There, in full exposure, was Issa's bare bottom, pointing directly at him, standing frozen in the doorway. It took but a few moments for Valasi to discern the details of the lewd tableau. Sam lay on the couch, with his feet hanging off the end, while Issa stood naked between his knees, at the foot of the couch, bent at the waist, giving him an active and energetic blowjob. Marissa and Sam would have been surprised, if they had been listening--if they had been paying attention; but they weren't.