how it happened (repost)

Those Things Happen.

But why to me?

Dick, my husband, had been dealing with some family estate problems all last weekend, and didn't get back home until late Monday night. I really missed him, and our phone sex was a poor substitute for the real thing. Ah, but we saved Tuesday nights for close encounters of the sexual kind. I could hardly wait.

Things went downhill, though. My company's president, Henry, called an emergency meeting the first thing on Tuesday. That was only three days ago, but for me, a lifetime ago. "I need a tiger team. Our biggest distributor is trying to strong-arm us into deeper discounts, because our stuff isn't moving off their shelves fast enough. What are we going to do? Bill, you head up the team. Brian Hills, the big honcho over there, and I hate each other. If I get next to him the permisteral chemistry will for sure ******* any chances we have. I need to delegate the whole problem to you - I can't be objective. It's your baby, I'll trust your judgment, OK?"

Bill looked up. "OK, Henry. I'll deal with it."

Bill's our 'go-to guy'. He wasted no time at all, dealing out assignments like a machine. Potential lost income analysis went to one of the accountants, alternative sales/marketing schemes to our VP of sales. Then he turned to me. I knew it was coming. "Marsha, you've had a lot of contact with Brian Hills, hell, you used to work for him. I need you to got out there and meet with him. Find out all you can, see what's going on. Can you leave on the noon flight?"

Interesting how English works. 'Can you leave' sounds like a question, doesn't it? Is anyone confused about it being an order?

"Sure, Bill. I'm on my way."

Brian was a mentor to me, and always honest. I might be able to help. But now I'd be away, probably overnight! I hoped Dick wouldn't be too upset. I was upset enough for both of us!

"Sure, honey, I understand. Good luck. Call when you know what flight you'll come back on, I'll pick you up when you get home," he said when I called him after throwing some stuff in an overnight bag. Why was I worried, Dick is a peach of a guy. He's still so considerate, after a whole decade of marriage. I should have known. I took a cab, not having time or interest in parking at the airport, especially since Dick wanted to pick me up.

I actually got to Brian's office at 3:30 that same day. And in a couple of hours, the problem was solved. It was more a misunderstanding than anything - it's just that Brian and Henry can't talk to each other without anger flaring up. "Marsha, you tell those guys what our new proposal is, and tell them that it's good as gold so long as you become the account executive."

I called the office. A clerk expected the call, and arranged a conference call with the tiger team, and Henry. I explained the deal on a conference call to the rest of the team. "We'll just let their payables extend to 90 days for a couple of months without hassling them about it. We'll do some reduced shipments, but we expected that anyway, it's part of our forecast. When the inventory gets down to a reamisterable level they'll start paying in 45 again. Any problems with that?"

The team's accountant pointed out we could deal with the dip in cash flow, and the balance sheet would hardly be affected at the end of the quarter.

Success!

Henry spoke up. "Good job, Marsha. I hope you can get home tonight, but flights back here out of Chicago are pretty bad at night, Anyhow, I don't expect to see you at work until Thursday. And congratulations on your new responsibility for that account. Go celebrate. We'll figure out a good reward." When Henry says that, you can take it to the bank.

Brian offered his hand. "We have a deal. I'd take you to dinner, but we have other plans. Thanks, Marsha, for helping us work this out."

What a day. I got stroking from everyone. I wanted to celebrate.

I had a cab take me to O'Hare. There was no way home that made any kind of sense that evening. "Be civilized", I thought. "Take the 9AM flight home, take the day off, and celebrate with Dick."

I decided to stay close to the airport. I took the shuttle to the airport Hilton, and checked in. I dumped my overnight bag in the room, and called home. Dick wasn't there, but had left a message for me on the answering machine. He was, he said, going out for a meal with Bill, who called to explain how important this trip was. He promised to call me later, if I gave him my hotel and room number, and went on to say he was lonesome already, and he wasn't even in bed yet. That meant, I knew, we'd have a hot phone conversation - phone sex, even - tonight, later.

What a rush this day had been! I wanted to shout with joy, to celebrate.

Solo celebrations really suck!

"I need a take!" I wanted that, even more than food, and I had nothing to eat since breakfast, and that was only a piece of fruit with Dick in the morning - that seemed like days ago.

I found a table in the lounge. It was already eight o'clock - , nine, back home. It was the end of a long day.

The first rum/coke went down fast - takeing for effect, I guess. No food, and a fast take. That would work. I could enjoy the second one more. I looked around. Not many people here - it wasn't too early for bar trade. Where was everyone? A couple of older guys were sitting together- they must be here on business, too. There's that other guy at the bar - about forty, nice looking. A couple of couples. . . Hmm. I'll have a quiet, relaxing evening, an early bed time, and be home tomorrow. "I'm as high as I can be, I'll bet I won't be able to relax. I hope I'm as excited tomorrow when I'm with Dick," I thought.

I was coming down from my high. Crashing down is a better way to describe it. Some celebration.

Yippeee. Shit.

I wanted another take. The routine was to go to the bar and get it. I did.

The forty year old guy was a couple of bar stools away, and I looked at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. His eyes met mine, and we maintained eye contact for a second or two too long. Nice enough looking guy, sort of rugged looking, I decided, reaching for my take.

"I'm sorry?" I said almost spontaneously, looking up, hearing something directed at me, but not hearing it clearly.

"I said, 'Lass, I'd enjoy buying that for you, especially if you wouldn't mind a little company at your table.'"

I hate takeing in bars alone, and eating alone when I travel. I figured this was safe enough, and the guy's accent was intriguing.

"Aussie?"

"Lass, that's an insult to a New Zealander."

Edward sat with me. I learned more about his island country in the first few minutes than I ever expected to know. "More sheep than people", "Two Islands, really", "God made our place after practicing on England and Australia, and finally got it right".

He was going home tomorrow - "A whole twenty-four hours of traveling, but worth every second, to get back." He'd been gone almost a month and missed home, his wife, and his little girl.

He learned about me, too, especially about today's adventure, my leaving home so quickly, and how I wanted to celebrate but couldn't do that alone.

By then we were on a first name basis. "Marsha, you didn't even have a chance to eat, let alone celebrate, did you?" He stood: "Let's get something here."

The restaurant, on the top floor, wasn't crowded at all, and Edward selected a table against the floor to ceiling windows, looking out over the airport. He took my hand and led me there. The human contact was warm, nice.

We sat side by side, so we could both look out at the scene. It was beautiful - airports at night always are. I enjoyed his company, and the dinner. I pretended it was almost an extension of my business meeting, and insisted on paying for my meal in spite of his objections. If only Dick was here.

I didn't want the day to end, I was so hyper and excited about everything. So, when he said "Let's go to the observation deck - it's a warm night, it'll be fun, and a nice way to end the evening," I agreed it was a great idea. Besides, I wasn't ready to be alone: not yet, anyway.

The hotel shuttle bus took us to the terminal. The observation deck was wonderful. We stood there, watching a chain of diamonds, landing lights, approach the airport, one after another, the first jet clearing the runway at one end seconds before the next landed. The parallel runway was just as busy with takeoffs. "There's nothing like this back home," Edward said, taking my hand to get my attention, and pointing to a Gulfstream G2 moving on the taxiway below us, on its way to somewhere. His hand, on mine, that human contact, lasted a few seconds longer than it needed to. I didn’t object.

There were two other couples standing at the railing, too, looking like lovers, holding hands, enjoying the same sights we were. There was a lull in arrivals, and we looked around. Both of the other couples were taking advantage of the break, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing. It was so romantic, and I was jealous of them. I was missing my husband. I was missing the warmth of that kind of hugging, that kissing, I was lonesome. . .

Let's face it, I was horny and I wanted my husband.

Then, I felt Edward's hand on my shoulder. He was feeling all of the same things.

I turned to him.

His hand provided just a hint of pressure, the most gentle urging, a suggestion and I responded, moving closer to him, into his arms, it was the most natural thing to do.

His other hand reached for my chin, and tilted my head upwards. A kiss, he wanted to kiss me.

I, I, I didn't stop him. Instead, I closed my eyes. I felt him move toward me, and his lips met mine.

The stress of the day, the excitement of my success, cocktails, the dinner's wine, all contributed. I felt his lips open, and I opened mine, too, and the kiss stopped being casual, tongues began caressing, bodies began pressing together, and the environment went from friendly and social to intense and sexual.

That kiss ended - nothing was said - and we turned to watch the airplanes again, lost in thought, silent. That was so nice, but so wrong. What was that all about? What just happened? What was going to happen?

We had talked so easily before - now there was silence.

"Uh, I just don't do things like that," I whispered into the night.

"Nor me, Marsha." A moment later he turned, and took my hand - gently, not aggressively, and we went to the airport shuttle bus, and back to the hotel.

More silence. This wasn't the comfortable silence we had enjoyed together earlier - it was tense, electric.

As we walked into the lobby he gestured toward the lounge - "A last take?" I shook my head no, and went towards the elevator. He joined me. He touched 8, and I pressed 12: his action was an unspoken invitation, and mine, a refusal. The doors closed, the elevator ascended.

He turned to me again, his body language a question, and again, I was in his arms - a second kiss, a good-bye kiss, so very nice, so romantic, this meeting of two strangers, their paths crossing only once, ending on so poignant a note. Just like in the movies.

But life isn't really like the movies, is it?

The elevator stopped at eight, and the door began opening. He released me, and turned toward the opening door. "Marsha, it was a lovely evening. I don't want it to end. Will you come to my room?" He was reoffering his earlier unspoken invitation, it was almost too tempting.

I shook my head no, and he stepped out of the elevator - "It was lovely," he said, "thank you. . .good-bye, Marsha, good-bye, lassie."

I did something I thought I'd never in my life do!

I reached toward him.

Toward his hand.

Nothing was said,

but everything was understood.

The elevator doors sensed the obstruction, stopped closing, and opened,
instead. He understood, turned, and came back in.

"Are you ready for that much passion?" he asked, and assuming he knew the answer, said "now you, you have to be undressed, too, undressed like I am."

"I know."My skirt was easy - a clasp, a zipper, and it fell.

I reached behind me, pulling, so that my slip climbed up my back, and over my head, and off.

I didn't care! I wanted his naked body next to mine!

I was in his arms again, I could feel that penis pushing against the skin of my belly as he pulled me close to him, my arms around him, holding him to me, feeling that body, that nakedness.

"Wait", I whispered.

I turned my back to him.

I felt tension increase on my bra strap as his fingers worked at the clasp, then the pressure was released, my bra was hanging from its shoulder straps, loose over my breasts.

I turned back to him, my hands reaching to his face, and watched as he put one hand on my shoulder, and pulled at a strap. I turned my head, watching his other hand on my shoulder, too, moving that strap, too.

He pulled the straps along my arms. I was without modesty, without shame. I wanted him to see me.

I dropped my arms to in front of me, down, and the cups, already loose, fell away, and that garment was gone, too. My breasts, exposed, in view now, my nipples were telling him of my own excitement, telling him something he already knew.

My hands were already close to my hips - I found the tops of my pantyhose, and pushed that down, too, to my thighs. I was exposed, too, and I didn't care. I sat on the bed, pulled my pantyhose free of my legs, and feet.

Free of clothing - nude, both of us!

Another embrace, another kiss, our bodies in total contact now, tongues together, and breasts against chest, and cock hard against my belly, his hands on my buttocks again, fondling them. . .

"Wait," I said again.

I stood beside the bed, pulling at its cover. "Get that side," I motioned toward the other side of the bed.

We pulled the cover off the bed, and the blanket, and the top sheet.

And looked at each other, on opposite sides of the bed, looking like a white altar, ready for a very human ceremony.

He reached across it, and I did, too, our hands meeting, pulling, so that we were kneeling, facing each other.

His hand on my neck pulled to the side, and he and I both lay down, on our sides, not quite touching, but close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from him.

He moved toward me, and I, turning to meet him, met his lips, and found myself pushed back, him over me, our mouths open, this kiss beyond seduction, even beyond foreplay, as I felt his chest meet mine, pressing on my breasts. then the pressure of his cock, pushing at me, my legs opening, welcoming him - it - between them, my knees lifting, guiding his hips, centering him over me.

"So nice," he muttered, his lips moving to my throat, as he slid his body lower, until his lips met my breast.

Good! He wasn't rushing! I had a hand under that breast, lifting it, holding it, making it easier for him, for his mouth.

He stopped that, and moved up again. "So sexy" he said, taking my hand, my left hand, kissing it, kissing my fingers, putting my ring finger in his mouth, and
I could feel his tongue and teeth on my wedding band!

"Oh" escaped from my lips, "my ring. . ."

He took that hand, and pushed it down, between us, rolling off me a little, lying on his side.

"Look at that!" he commanded.

He pushed my hand to his cock, wrapping my fingers around it.

I saw what he wanted me to, the glint of that ring, on that hand, on his cock!

"Watch."

He brought his own left hand to my face, his fingers gentle on my lips.

"Open them".

I did, and his ring finger found its way in, I could feel his wedding ring, too, as my tongue wet his fingers.

"Now watch!"

He pulled that hand out, and let it his ring finger trace down, over my
body.

To there!

I saw that finger stroking at my lips, pressing against them, along them, and watched as I tilted my pelvis up, presenting those lips to him, and watched as somehow my knees parted even more, widening me, and his fingers weren't just stoking my lips now, their tips were within them, and then the ring's glitter disappeared, in me!

"Oh" - so erotic, so sexy.

Dick used to do the same thing to me - I loved it!

His lips found my breast again, teasing it, while his fingers were busy in me, all of the stimulation working, until his fingers stopped what they were doing, and he moved from beside me, to on me, while his mouth stayed fastened to my breast. I could feel his cock, his penis, on my thighs, and I could feel how my thighs parted wider, allowing it between them.

He was being urgent now!

His mouth abandoned my breast, moved higher, to my neck, and his penis moved higher, too, closer, and then -

the fucking phone rang!!!

"Oh hell, only my husband knows I'm here. What'll I do??" I was panicking.

"Answer the phone. Talk to him. He'll be worried otherwise. But I'm not going to stop now," Edward said, reaching for it, handing it to me, and moving down again, kissing my neck.

"Hello?"

It was Dick - I knew it. He'd know what's happening!

"Honey, I'm so excited. Henry called here hours ago, you're going to get promoted to vice president!" Dick almost screamed. "I wish I was with you, I want to celebrate with you!"

I knew what he meant. A nice meal, some takes, then we'd make love for hours.

"I wish you were here, too" I said, distracted by Edward's mouth, now fastened to my breast.

"Me too," Dick said, "I want to be holding you now."

"Me, too."

How could my voice be so steady while Edward was doing what he was doing to me?

"I wish you were in this bed with me, pretend to be, pretend to be next to me, I need you to, like we did when I was away last week, " he pleaded.

What a perverted idea - how could he want me to do phone sex with him when. . .
. . . but I could. I could do that!

"I will. I will do that, I'll pretend you're here," I said. It was away we used for us to be close emotionally over the miles, over the years. It was a way of staying connected, we'd done it before, but never like this!

The stimulation I was getting from Edward made me realize I could. I could share intercourse with him, and phone sex with my husband at the same time!

I couldn't! I love my husband, I couldn't do that!

"I want you naked on your bed, just like I'm naked on this one" he said.

The phone was far enough away from my ear so that Edward could hear.

I had to do what he wanted, I had to please Dick. Other wise he'd know -
I don't want him to know!

"Honey, I am naked on this bed," I whispered into the phone.

Edward looked up at me, understanding.

"Good", Dick said, "will you touch yourself for me, because I'm not there? Can you get excited without me doing something to you?"

"Yes, yes, I AM excited," I assured him. "You get excited too. Dick, make
yourself excited, too, get as excited as I am."

Edward moved higher, his face above mine, his erection pressing into me.

"I am," he grunted. "I want you to touch yourself or something, too. Do
you have a vibrator or something you can use?"

I paused, glancing at Edward - he heard.

"I don't have a vibrator here, that's at home, honey, but maybe I can
find something. . ."

I wouldn't dare, would I?

I would!

"Oh, I've got something. A tube, a tube full of lotion, that might be the right size," I whispered into the phone, while reaching down between us, to Edward's penis, my tube, that was the right size. Edward, no dummy, lifted up, knowing what was going to happen.

"Is it body lotion?" Dick wanted to know.

"Yeah, yes Dick, it's a tube of body lotion."

"Good, put some on you, use it, get all wet, put it in you!"

"In me? Is that what you want me to do? I will, I'll use it, I'll get it in me now," I said, knowing Dick thought I was teasing him, and Edward, Edward knew, he knew exactly. . .

"Dick, I will. I'm holding it close, where you want it to be . ."

I guided Edward's penis to my vulva, moving it along its lips until its head parted them, and he pressed foreward, pushing at me.

"I'm moving it along my lips, honey, exciting myself with it, can you imagine that..."

"You're getting me so hard," Dick said, imagining the wrong thing.

"It's hard to get it started, it's a little too big. I have to push harder - - -"

"Use some lotion, push harder, put it in," Dick urged, thinking he was urging me, but it was Edward who was pushing. Edward, who heard my husband tell me to push harder .

"I'm, it won't. . ." I was saying to Dick, to Edward, then "- --OH!"

I hoped Dick couldn't hear our pelvises slap.

"Good!" came from the earpiece,

and I gasped out the paced

"oh,


oh,


oh"

that Dick was used to hearing from me, but they were sounds in keeping with Edward’s motions.

"I'm doing it with you," Dick said.

There were no words spoken for a few minutes, just panting, Dick using his hand, and me using Edward.

"I'm doing what you want, Dick. . ." I told him.

"Do it, give yourself an orgasm," he said, grunting as he did that to himself, too.

Then, "I'm close, Dick," I said, truthfully.

"Me too," he said.

Edward looked at me, and whispered "I'm ready too."

It washed over me, a complete orgasm, and over Edward, too, as he pushed time and again, soundlessly, filling me with himself.

"Oh Dick, I'm coming, right now!"

Edward was still pushing, pressing as deeply as he could, thrusting, when Dick said "I made a mess of the bed cover."

"This bed's all wet, too," I told my husband. "Honey, go wash up, and change the bedding, and we can celebrate the right way tomorrow when I get home, OK?"

"OK, honey, I better do that, and clean up. I'll see you about noon. 'Bye. I love you." And Dick hung up.

I let the phone fall to the pillow, and met Edward's lips.

"I never dreamt of doing anything like that" I muttered, after that kiss ended, shame and modesty taking charge. I pulled a sheet over my body.

"No, no, lassie. That won't do."

Hs stood, and moved to the foot of the bed, naked, his cock not quite erect.

"That won't do at all."

He grasped the sheet, and started pulling. I felt it move under my arms, over my breasts, sliding down.

Until my breasts, then my stomach, my crotch, my legs, were all exposed, the sheet's progress down matched by his increasing arousal.

"We're not done by any means," he said. "Not me, and not you. Not for a while, yet. Come." He extended his hand.

I sat up, taking it.

He pulled, and I left the bed, following him, to the bathroom.
He turned the shower on, adjusted the temperature, stepped in, and gestured for me to get in, too.

Two warm bodies, soapy bodies, hands mutually washing, exciting each other, preparing each for the other.

Two large towels, rubbing, drying, providing excuses for touching, stimulating, helping us in something that was truly foreplay.

And back to the second bed in my room,

we were clean now,

hygiene not a restriction now.

He lay beside me for a moment, his penis not fully erect.

"I need a few minutes more for recovery, lassie, but there's no reamister for us to not play."

He bent over me, his mouth on my neck again.

His tongue was electric, tracing from there to my ear.

He pushed a little at my shoulder, I rolled a bit away from him, and felt him move again, and now his tongue was doing its magic on the back of my neck.

Oh, that felt so nice, so erotic in a quiet way.

He pushed again, until I was on my belly, stretched out on the bed, arms reaching above my head, and I felt his weight on me.

That tongue touched my neck, then my ear, then lower, to my shoulder. He moved down, I could feel that, and his kisses were at the middle of my back.

Another movement,

and now, he was kissing my side. I wanted to roll back facing him, but he held me as I was, on my belly.

His mouth, his tongue, moved from my side, back to the middle of my back. It was the most erotic feeling. . .

Then lower!

His hands were on my buttocks, pushing, spreading, and his tongue was flirting there, too.

Fingers, tongue, I wasn't sure - excited beyond endurance, but not sure. . . .

then he moved off me.

"Come," he commanded, pulling at me, until I was kneeling beside him.

He pulled at my knee, positioning me, so I was kneeling above him, facing him, looking down at him.

He pulled at my buttocks, until my knees were on either side of his head.

Then, reaching over my legs, he pulled my knees further apart.

"Watch," he said, and looking down I saw his tongue touching my inner thigh!

He reached around my legs, his fingers meeting at my pelvis, and he pulled at my lips, opening me.

"Look," he commanded, as I, with my hands on the wall, pelvis thrust foreword, head bent down, saw myself being held open, saw my clitoris engorged, extending out, a little finger, but so sensitive.

I saw his lips purse, felt his cooling breath there, felt quivers extending all over my body, saw his tongue extend,

touch me!

Lick at me!

I moved foreword more, sealing myself to his mouth, feeling his tongue do what his penis should, touch and excite me.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked, knowing the answer.

A climax had washed over my body.

"Yes, I did. Your tongue was a penis for me, for my vagina."

"Maybe, then, it's time for your mouth to be a vagina for my penis. Turn around."

I did.

He reached, tugging at my knee, pulling it, until, until, until I understood, and moved, so that I was kneeling , a knee on either side of his head, this time looking down at his torso, his penis. I was in that classic 69 position, just like I saw in some of those porno films Dick used to rent.

"I've never done this with Dick," I told him.

"Then there'll be some mystery in his life when you do it with him tomorrow," he said, his hands on my back, pushing me down.

Then his arm went around the outside of my legs, over my thighs, reaching around me, spreading me again!

My mind went to our first kiss, just hours ago, when I let my tongue touch his. Now, his kiss would be very different. I was frozen in position, I could feel myself being spread by his fingers, feel myself being positioned. There was a sudden coolness, it was his breath, touching me where I was open, on my clit, again.

There!!! That touch, his tongue, it touched me there! My spine felt chills, as he found that special place, lightly touching it, exciting it, exciting me, again causing that spontaneous "oh!".

His arms, still around me, pushed at me, bringing my body lower, my face lower, to him.

"Now you, use your mouth on me, fuck me with it, let it be another vagina for my erection!!"

I bent over a little more, and opened my own mouth, and took him in it, returning the pleasure, and in the giving, gaining it, too.

He grew bigger, warmer, in my mouth, and then against my cheek as my mouth found his scrotum.

Over more, past that, under that, feeling him lift up, so I could touch his anus, too.

My own hand was pumping him, making him more erect, making him ready again, while he made me ready, too, kept me ready, and wet, and excited.

"That way, now," he said. His mouth had pushed me over the edge, I would use mine to push him.

I held his shaft in my hand, pushing down, pushing the foreskin down, exposing that purple head, so I could lick at it, and suck at it.

I began a masturbating motion, stoking him, following my hand with my mouth, feeling a pulsing, deep within him, and feeling him push up into me, his hand on my head pushing me onto him.

A burst, a salty taste, another pulse. . .

more of his passion escaped his cock, and found my throat.

But, he stayed hard, hard enough.

"Come, be in me again, do that," I pleaded.

He pushed me to the side, I went, willingly.

And he rolled onto me.

It was so natural to open my legs for this man, to this man, that I had known only a few hours.

And natural for him, so wet with my saliva, to slip so easily into me, so wet with his.

The room was only light enough for me to see his shadow, moving over me.

Of course there was a realization that I was cheating on Dick, feeling Edward's cock, moving in me, exciting me, that made it, forgive me, even more exciting.

Feeling him, feeling him move a hand down there, too, feeling both fingers and penis, and putting my hand there, too, feeling the wetness, and his cock, and me.

He pulled my hand up, pulled my wet fingers up, over his chest, his neck, his cheek, to his mouth.

"I want to taste you, too," he said, his tongue on my fingers, "even though we took showers, I could taste me in you..."

"And me, I want to taste us again, too," I told him, so he offered his fingers to my mouth, too, his fingers that were wet with me, so I could taste us, taste our passion.

It was enough, more than enough stimulation, for him to grow that little bit larger, that little bit warmer, enough so that he pressed hard into me, and I could feel his pulse in his cock, and more than his pulse, as he filled me again.

We slept, tangled in each other and the sheets.

There was a moment when I rolled over, forgetting where I was, my leg went over his hip, my head on his shoulder, just as I slept with Dick for all of these years. Only it wasn't Dick, it was Edward, awakening too, and my spread legs found him erect, and he rolled towards me, on me, in me. . .

And another moment, when I went from arelax to aroused because of someone kissing my ear, touching my breast, and I awoke in the darkness finding we both had enough left to engage each other again.

It became morning "My flight to LA is at 8," Edward said at 5:30. He was mostly erect again. "Come!".

I left the bed with him, and he positioned me at the low chest of drawers, in front of the mirror.

"Bend over."

I did, my arms supporting me, presenting myself to him, breasts hanging freely, back arched, so my buttocks were high, ready to receive him.

"Watch us!"

I did that too, seeing a man behind me reflected in the mirror, his hands gripping my shoulders, and I reached behind me, and guided that cock to my anus this time, so that when he flexed his hips, he was in me again! I could see enough of him, of his legs behind mine, a glimpse of his scrotum suspended between my legs, and I could feel him moving in me, his pelvis slapping at my ass, his cock deep in me, I could feel his heat, and feel enough moisture to be cool on my legs, as he rode me, pulling my shoulders so I'd move onto him as he pushed into me, time and again, I was riding, and being ridden!

"Remember this - do it with your husband, and remember me fucking with you, and you, fucking with me, and I'll remember too, tomorrow, and forever."

He used all of the passion he was saving, I used all of the excitement I had experienced on the trip, and all of the sexual experience I had, as we coupled, satisfying each other and ourselves, until finally there was just time for a kiss good-bye, for him to pull on pants and shirt, and grab at other garments, and leave. I was left with the memory of him at the door, of his "Goodbye, lassie: remember me," of the door closing, of his scent throughout the room, the mess of our lovemaking.

I never learned his last name! He never learned mine!

There was time for a shower - I had to do that, I knew there'd be no time when Dick picked me up at took me home! My room was a mess, both beds, the bathroom, towels everywhere, traces of our fluids everywhere too. We were, Edward said, "Well and truly fucked, in the best senses of the phrase."

Dick was waiting at the gate with a bouquet of flowers - so sweet!

The drive home took only a little while, just enough time for him to bubble over with my success.

"Come to the bedroom, I need you," was the first thing he said when we got to our house.

I went, and undressed more slowly than he did, finally joining him on the bed, feeling loose, not feeling excited, exhausted physically from lack of relax, emotionally satiated with Edward's sex, but wanting Dick, wanting to please him, desperately wanting him to love me.

His needs were so urgent - and so easy to satisfy.

Then, when he was in me, pumping away, he pleaded with me: "Tell me about what it was like, when you used that tube on yourself last night. It sounded so great, so sexy."

Dick has a strong sense of the erotic. His efforts, and my memory, were removing the fatigue I felt. I decided to use the energy. "Oh, it was some tube. It was attached to the crotch of this New Zealander I picked up at the airport."

I told the entire tale, as an erotic story, Dick thinking I was creating it was just to excite him.

"I even did this," I told him, pushing him onto his back, kneeling over him with his head between my legs, and going down on him, while lowering myself on his face, so he could use his mouth, too.

"No, not like that,” I told him. "You have to reach around me, spread me, then do that!"

"What else?" he asked, after that ended. "Tell me what else."

Oh we,,, if he wasn't going to believe me, I began to make up stuff for real and then we made them all real for real.

As for the "Kiwi", I remember, every time my husband and I fuck, I still remember.