Lovin' it!
54321
Between Jennifer and Marc
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
Sorry it's been so long a wait for the next chapter in Jennifer's chronicles. Once you read it you'll see that I really didn't know everything that had happened -- until she rewrote this chapter.
Obviously, we've been doing a lot of talking about this. I'm not happy I'm only finding out now, but I completely understand Jenn's reasons for not being able to tell me. She also told me that's why she'd gone along with me posting her story here. She knew she'd have to reveal this final information when she revisited her original story she wrote for me all those years ago.
I'm just sorry she's had to carry the burden all this time of what she was keeping from me. We were in the bedroom naked when she handed me the printout of this chapter. I immediately got a huge erection. It made Jennifer laugh (among her tears). She called me, "The biggest pervert in the world."
We've worked through it all, hence the delay. I asked her to add some additional stuff further explaining things. I also told her she needs a bit of punishment. My suggestion was that she allow me to post a photo or two. She's considering it seriously.
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Chapter 11
I’d like to say that next morning I suffered from a feeling of buyer’s remorse, but the fact of the matter was I woke up before my alarm went off and felt completely ready for anything the world might deal me that day. I was also surprisingly horny considering the good seeing-to I’d gotten the previous evening at Marc’s hands.
Getting to the Music Faculty early, I scored one of the better practise rooms and got three hours of really good work done before my stomach began growling. I got waylaid by a couple of friends (you know the sort: school friends who like to think they know you better than they do). They dragged me to a greasy spoon-type rest farther down Sherbrooke towards Avenue Parc. I would have just as soon gone home to play with myself, but they wouldn’t be gainsaid.
“Where have you been hiding yourself all year, girl?” Margot asked. “You’re in and out of the Faculty like a ghost. Other than orchestra rehearsal, nobody ever sees you.”
“She must have a lover,” Grace said with a smirk, “good looking young lady that she is. That’s the only explanation.”
My heart stopped. Both these women also knew Robby. Was Grace just teasing or had the word gotten out?
Trying desperately not to blanch or blush, I held up my left hand. “I’m married, see? (They weren’t.) I’m just trying to maximize the extra year I’m spending here. I need to put in as many hours practising as I can. Besides, I see Robby plenty.”
“Yes, but he’s in another city. A girl has needs.”
I laughed as heartily as I could manage. Obviously they were fishing. Neither were violinists, but they knew who Marc was, and might well know his reputation with women. If they’d really had damning information, they would have come right out and asked.
However, the conversation over lunch upset me enough that I was rather distracted in my lesson that afternoon and also the orchestra rehearsal that finished the day. The conductor nailed me for a small mistake I shouldn’t have made, and he wasn’t very nice about it. Since I was leading the second violins for this concert, he was within his rights, but it further rattled me.
The topper, though, was coming down into the lobby and seeing Marc talking to the head of the performance department. This caused two things to happen: I couldn’t keep myself from blushing furiously and I instantly became wet because all I could visualize was him standing there naked, his erection raging and looking completely studly, an alpha male in his glory. Stupid, I know, but the image was so clear in my mind.
I was walking with another violinist I vaguely knew and she said into my ear, “Isn’t he a hunk? I bet he’d be fun to get in bed!”
Marc turned and looked at me for a moment, then smiled.
“Do you know him?” my companion asked.
“We both worked at a camp this summer. He was the head violin teacher. I know him a bit.” (Yeah, right!)
“Well, aren’t you the lucky one.”
“It wasn’t like that.” I held up my left hand again, this time my right because we string players can’t play with our wedding bands on our left hand. (I’d forgotten to transfer it back after the rehearsal.) “I’m married.”
Since it would have seemed strange to walk right by him after my comment, I stopped.
“Jennifer! How good to see you again,” Marc said, then gave me a peck on each cheek.
It was odd to hear him speak English. We explained to the performance head that we’d both worked at the same music camp that summer.
“Jennifer is a lovely teacher,” Mark added as he put his arm around me in a friendly way. “And a most excellent teacher. I loved having her work under me.”
The cheeky bastard smiled and I did feel myself blushing.
I introduced my companion, we all chatted a bit about this and that, then as I took my leave, Marc said, “We should get together some time, Jennifer, catch up on what you’ve been doing.”
Exiting the building, the violinist said, “I think he wants you.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“From the way he looked at you and that double-edged comment he made. He wants to get into your pants, I can tell. I’d be inclined to let him.”
Her words made me even more horny. She didn’t know how right she was.
My phone was ringing as I stepped into the apartment.
“Jen, I want to see you tonight. I will drive over and pick you up.”
He didn’t ask if I was free which was a little annoying, so I said, “I promised to call my husband at 7:00.”
“After then.”
Part of me wanted to say no, but the larger part was desperate for him after seeing him at the Faculty. To be truthful, the comments that had barraged me all day from my friends had really turned my crank. I had the guy they were so obviously lusting after.
“Pick me up at 7:30.”
(So that night, Robby, right after you got off the phone with your little wife, she changed her clothes, jumped in a waiting car and went to her lover’s apartment to spend the evening making love to him. I felt horrible hearing your voice, chatting with you about mundane things, and all the while being wet between my legs at the thought of another man’s cock. I was thoroughly in lust with Marc, and there was no denying it. In a textbook example of cognitive dissonance, I just went with this complete dichotomy raging in my head. I loved you, but I desperately wanted my lover. I needed him to take me.)
I wore Marc’s favourite jeans, the ones that made my rear end look so good. He’d bought them for me at Le Chateau on Ste. Catherine’s and I remember that day so well. I had to do a good bit of shimmying to get them pulled up, but they fit me like a second skin. When I came out of the dressing room, Marc was chatting with a salesgirl. Looking at me, a big smile came over his face, and I’m pretty sure his cock started to swell. The salesgirl must have noticed because she said something about how much he obviously liked the way his girlfriend looked. He used to like to watch me put them on almost as much as he liked looking at me wearing them. He always walked a pace or two behind me when I had them on. (The inseam between my legs also felt pretty terrific as it pressed on various places.)
On top, I was wearing a blouse (no bra) and even though it was pretty cold, I also wore the short brown leather jacket Marc had given me for Christmas. Finishing off, I had on the boots you’d given me. In a perverse way, I’d put them on so a bit of you would be with me.
Marc pulled me against him as soon as I’d slid into his car and we kissed passionately.
“Are you hungry, Jen?”
I reached over and grabbed his crotch. “I am for one thing.”
Marc grinned, threw the car in gear and we roared off to his place. On the way, we stopped at his favorite Chinese take-out, but other than one egg roll each, we didn’t get around to eating any of it.
He was following me up the stairs — no doubt looking at my ass, which aroused me considerably — and I stood to the side as he opened the door, putting my arm around his waist. Once inside, he took the food to the kitchen, then went into his bedroom for a moment while I tried to decide whether to take off all my clothes. I’d gotten as far as removing my leather jacket and boots when he reappeared.
Crossing the room, he took me into his arms and we kissed again, almost violently. My tongue was in his mouth in an instant, and I wrapped my right leg around his left, pulling my crotch tightly against it — something I knew he liked. (I did, too!)
“My, but you are horny tonight, my dear. One would think you had not been fucked in a month.”
Marc normally didn’t use such coarse language, but his use of it here only inflamed my heat.
“It feels like that,” I whispered into his ear, before sucking his earlobe. “I want you so much!”
He spun me around and told me to put my hands behind my back. I figured he’d gone to the bedroom to grab one of his ties. You can imagine my surprise when two cold pieces of metal closed around my wrists. Handcuffs, and the thought of being helpless and completely under his control caused my genitals to start throbbing immediately.
I stood watching as Marc unhurriedly removed his overcoat, wondering what he had in mind for me that night.
“Follow me to the kitchen,” he said, and I did.
He fed me my egg roll while he ate his. My lips were greasy and I could feel a drip of plum sauce on my chin, but Marc made no effort to wipe off my mouth. Instead, once he was done with his, he stood and bent over me, pulling my face up, and licked the mess away. I was melting with lust.
“What would you like tonight, my little dove?” (A corny term, but it sounds very sexy delivered in French.)
“Anything you want,” I breathed as we kissed once again.
With that he took me to the bedroom where he stripped the lower part of my body. I could feel juices begin running down one leg.
I sat on the bed and watched Marc remove his clothes. Last off were his briefs and I almost licked my lips as his erection sprang up. My lover was very hard and obviously as aroused as I was.
“Come here, Jen, and take me in your mouth.”
I did as he asked, kneeling in front of him. Marc’s cock didn’t jut straight out when he was really aroused, but went up at a bit of an angle. Without the use of my hands, I had to rise up on my knees to get him into my mouth.
“Go slowly, my love. I want to enjoy this,” he sighed as I began massaging the underneath of his cock’s lovely big head with my tongue.
I slid him out, looked up and asked, “Does it turn you on seeing me like this?”
“Yes. Very much. You are so lovely and so willing.”
“I am yours to use.”
“And that turns you on?”
I nodded and again slid him into my mouth.
(As you know, Robby, I enjoy pleasuring a man with my hands more than with my mouth, but I tried my hardest to make the blow job I was giving Marc the best one he’d ever had. Using his method, I varied what I was doing and let his responses lead me. Since I wasn’t able to feel his testicles rise, I had to rely on him to tell me when to stop. It was an interesting experience.)
When Marc had enough of my oral ministrations (the final few minutes were with him holding my head and fucking my mouth which really turned me on no end), he removed the handcuffs and tied me face up to the headboard of his bed. In something new, though, he had some of those velcro straps which he put on my ankles and tied the ends to the highest part of the headboard. With my legs held spread like that, I felt completely vulnerable to whatever he wanted to do to me. The last thing was a blindfold.
He “tortured” me for well over an hour, bringing me to the brink of orgasm at least five times, using his tongue, hands and several vibrators which he used not only inside me, but on my clitoris and even my breasts. I loved the feeling of my bonds keeping me from moving or doing much more than weakly thrusting against his assault whenever he got me close to cumming. All through it, he kept up a commentary which surprisingly got me extra hot, considering what he was saying.
“Having you like this and not being able to see what’s going on, I could bring in anyone I wanted to and you would be powerless to stop me.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you, Marc?”
“I might. I just might, Jen. I think that you would like it.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I answered.
But at that point Marc had two fingers up inside me, playing with my G-spot. The fact that I immediately got even more wet was a pretty big giveaway that the idea was, in fact, not unwelcome.
“You enjoy having me as a lover, don’t you?”
His thrusing fingers had gotten me very close. “You know I do, Marc,” I panted. “But you’re all I want or need.”
“How do you know that? A penis can come in many sizes. Perhaps I could find someone with one that you would like very much.”
“No, Marc.”
“But you are getting more and more wet. Your mouth is saying one thing, but your body is telling me another.”
“Please, Marc! Let me cum. Don’t play twenty questions with me.”
He removed his fingers, and I groaned with disappointment. Lightly stroking my stretched open thighs with the backs of his fingertips (something he’d discovered that drove me nuts), he continued to tell me about how I couldn’t stop him from letting someone else have me.
“Who knows? I might have let someone in to watch me do this to you.”
Alarm shot through me. He had been out of the room a short time before. He’d told me he needed to pee, but he easily could have gone to the apartment door to let someone in.
“You didn’t do that. You’re just teasing me.”
“Perhaps he is sitting in the chair by the closet door silently watching me pleasure a very beautiful and willing woman. Maybe he has taken himself out of his pants because looking at you has made him so hard, so aroused for you. Would you like me to invite him over to the bed?”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Do you like the idea of someone else watching us make love? Does that turn you on?” He reached forward to stroke my exposed genitals. “I can tell that it does. Say it.”
“No.”
“I will not touch you again unless you do.”
“I won’t say it.”
“Why not? Your body is telling me you like the thought.”
“The thought is one thing. Doing it is completely different.”
“But you said after the first time we kissed last summer that you couldn’t be with me, yet here you are tonight, one of many nights, I might add. You’ve often told me how much you want me. That is why we’re together here like this.”
A thought came into my head. “You haven’t told anyone about us, have you? Is that why this is happening?”
His answer was to move on the bed and begin licking me, occasionally sucking on my clitoris. As my arousal went through the roof. The pleasure he gave me was too intense to think of anything else.
When he again had me near orgasm, he stopped.
“What are you thinking, Jen?”
“I’m thinking how good your tongue feels, how much I want to cum for you. Please make me cum, Marc, please!”
There was no doubt to either of us that I was begging.
He began leisurely stroking my slit, dipping his finger inside me and only occasionally going up to circle my clitoris. My arousal dropped to a high simmer, but from the way he was doing it, I knew I wouldn’t boil over.
“Please, Marc! I want to cum!”
“Will you let my friend make love to you afterwards? He has a very nice cock and you’ve made him very hard.”
“Marc, drop it! There is no other man.”
His voice stayed low, but he sounded amused. “How can you be certain?”
“Marc…”
I was squirming as much as my bonds let me, trying to get his finger near enough to my clitoris to put me over the edge. I was desperate to finish — and he knew it.
“If I make you cum, will you allow him to make love to you?”
I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Yes. Just make me cum!”
His fingers withdrew and using his mouth again, Marc teased me a moment or two longer until he sucked my aching clitoris into his mouth. Lightly flickering it with his tongue while applying gentle suction caused my body to begin shaking and fire to spread out from my genitals as a huge orgasm began to overtake my body. Just as the shaking started, Marc slid a finger up my ass.
It was perhaps the longest orgasm I’d experienced to that point. I was completely lost in the those addicting sensations. If I hadn’t been tied to the bed so completely, I probably would have levitated. Marc told me it was nearly impossible to keep my clit in his mouth, but he was determined to hold on. Every time he gave it a tiny suck, I’d go into orbit again. He told me later, my crisis had lasted well over minute, and even after he stopped stimulating me, delightful tremors shook my body.
I was dimly aware of him getting off the bed.
“Where I you going, Marc? I want you inside me now. Take me!”
“You promised my friend could have you.”
As the pleasure subsided, I thought to myself, Oh God! What have you gotten yourself into? What if Marc isn’t having you on?
The bed moved as someone got back on and positioned himself between my legs.
“Marc! Tell me you’re not doing this! I don’t want anyone but you.”
No answer, but I could feel a very erect cock begin rubbing up and down my slit, moistening its head.
(I will admit to you now, Robby, that I didn’t care. All I wanted at that moment was to be filled by a cock — any cock. I’ve never told you this part of my story because I’ve been so ashamed about it. I heartily and completely apologize to you, dear, long-suffering husband. To be completely truthful (finally), I’m not entirely certain that someone else didn’t have me that night. It felt like Marc’s cock thrusting in me, but he was probably just messing with my head at that point, trying to find out how far I could be pushed. I can see that now. Certainly the person who fucked me did it differently than Marc. It was more frantic, completely about the man’s lust and enjoyment and nothing about me. It could have been Marc doing this to enhance the illusion. The man never spoke and Marc wouldn’t answer me while this was going on, so I suspect it was him. If he’d answered, I would have been able to tell where he was in the room.
But the real bottom line, the thing I’m most ashamed of is that I didn’t care. All I wanted was to be taken, used, and the thought that it might be someone I didn’t know inflamed me even more. We could get all psychological here (and believe me, I have thought about this more than anything I did with Marc), that I was punishing myself for being such a slut (my mother’s favourite word sometimes) and doing all these horrible things outside the sanctity of my marriage with you, that I deserved to be treated this way, but I just don’t know. Marc had awakened a sexual beast in me, and sometimes I’d get (still do!) so lost in pleasure that I didn’t care what was being done or by whom, just as long as the pleasure continued. It always frightened me horribly afterwards, that I could do things like this. But then, the next time I’d get really aroused, this unreasoning part of my psyche would take over. To put it succinctly, I was addicted to sex, to pleasure. It had begun to consume my life.)
The cock inside me began to swell even more, signaling that I would soon be filled with semen. But whose?
“Please don’t cum inside me! Please!”
I was being fucked very hard, my body jolted every time his pubic bone hit mine. I was close to another orgasm. A drop of sweat splattered on my stomach.
“Please pull out when you cum. Marc! Make him pull out!”
Suddenly, the cock withdrew. Its first spurt hit my face, then trailed down my chest with each successive one, until they finally stopped.
The person silently got off the bed. I could hear movement in the room, then the sounds of someone getting dressed out in the living room, and finally the outer door of the apartment opening and closing.
“Marc! Come and let me loose.”
He came back into the room. “Are you very angry with me?”
“I don’t know what I am! Just let me loose!”
It was clear to him I was very upset. What wasn’t clear was that I was far more upset with myself than I was with him for what had just happened, regardless if it had all been fake.
He tried calming me down as I was putting on my clothes, but I wasn’t having any of that. I’m not a redhead for nothing (as you always tell me, Robby).
“There was no one here, Jen. I was just having some fun with you.”
“Yeah, right!”
“You must believe me.”
“Marc… Just don’t say anything. I’m far too angry right now.”
“With me — or with yourself?”
I slapped him. “How dare you.”
“I know how wet you got when I started talking about my friend. It turned you on. You cannot deny that.”
I wasn’t going to let him see me cry, but he was right, completely and utterly right. Without another word, I rushed out of his apartment and walked all the way home, regardless of the fact that it was very cold.
The rest of my night was filled with horrible thoughts and a lot of weeping. By morning, I decided I needed to get away — which is why you found me on our doorstep when you came home from work that evening. I’d been in such a rush to get away that I’d left my house keys back in my apartment (since I generally didn’t carry them with me).
(I lied to you about why I’d come home so suddenly. It had very little to do with “missing you so terribly”. That week where I just dropped everything and rushed back to the man I really loved is something I’ll always cherish. You’ve told me since that you’ve always suspected something had happened back in Montreal. Ever since I told you about Marc, you’ve believed it was just feeling guilty about my affair that drove me home. While that isn’t untrue, it’s not the complete story. Now you have it. Up till that night I’d been someone’s lover. After, I felt like someone’s slut. The worst part was, I had enjoyed the idea when I was going through it. That appalled me — but that whole week I was home with you, the memory of it also kept me turned on. That’s what I was thinking about every time we made love (which was a lot). I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.)
Obviously, we've been doing a lot of talking about this. I'm not happy I'm only finding out now, but I completely understand Jenn's reasons for not being able to tell me. She also told me that's why she'd gone along with me posting her story here. She knew she'd have to reveal this final information when she revisited her original story she wrote for me all those years ago.
I'm just sorry she's had to carry the burden all this time of what she was keeping from me. We were in the bedroom naked when she handed me the printout of this chapter. I immediately got a huge erection. It made Jennifer laugh (among her tears). She called me, "The biggest pervert in the world."
We've worked through it all, hence the delay. I asked her to add some additional stuff further explaining things. I also told her she needs a bit of punishment. My suggestion was that she allow me to post a photo or two. She's considering it seriously.
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Chapter 11
I’d like to say that next morning I suffered from a feeling of buyer’s remorse, but the fact of the matter was I woke up before my alarm went off and felt completely ready for anything the world might deal me that day. I was also surprisingly horny considering the good seeing-to I’d gotten the previous evening at Marc’s hands.
Getting to the Music Faculty early, I scored one of the better practise rooms and got three hours of really good work done before my stomach began growling. I got waylaid by a couple of friends (you know the sort: school friends who like to think they know you better than they do). They dragged me to a greasy spoon-type rest farther down Sherbrooke towards Avenue Parc. I would have just as soon gone home to play with myself, but they wouldn’t be gainsaid.
“Where have you been hiding yourself all year, girl?” Margot asked. “You’re in and out of the Faculty like a ghost. Other than orchestra rehearsal, nobody ever sees you.”
“She must have a lover,” Grace said with a smirk, “good looking young lady that she is. That’s the only explanation.”
My heart stopped. Both these women also knew Robby. Was Grace just teasing or had the word gotten out?
Trying desperately not to blanch or blush, I held up my left hand. “I’m married, see? (They weren’t.) I’m just trying to maximize the extra year I’m spending here. I need to put in as many hours practising as I can. Besides, I see Robby plenty.”
“Yes, but he’s in another city. A girl has needs.”
I laughed as heartily as I could manage. Obviously they were fishing. Neither were violinists, but they knew who Marc was, and might well know his reputation with women. If they’d really had damning information, they would have come right out and asked.
However, the conversation over lunch upset me enough that I was rather distracted in my lesson that afternoon and also the orchestra rehearsal that finished the day. The conductor nailed me for a small mistake I shouldn’t have made, and he wasn’t very nice about it. Since I was leading the second violins for this concert, he was within his rights, but it further rattled me.
The topper, though, was coming down into the lobby and seeing Marc talking to the head of the performance department. This caused two things to happen: I couldn’t keep myself from blushing furiously and I instantly became wet because all I could visualize was him standing there naked, his erection raging and looking completely studly, an alpha male in his glory. Stupid, I know, but the image was so clear in my mind.
I was walking with another violinist I vaguely knew and she said into my ear, “Isn’t he a hunk? I bet he’d be fun to get in bed!”
Marc turned and looked at me for a moment, then smiled.
“Do you know him?” my companion asked.
“We both worked at a camp this summer. He was the head violin teacher. I know him a bit.” (Yeah, right!)
“Well, aren’t you the lucky one.”
“It wasn’t like that.” I held up my left hand again, this time my right because we string players can’t play with our wedding bands on our left hand. (I’d forgotten to transfer it back after the rehearsal.) “I’m married.”
Since it would have seemed strange to walk right by him after my comment, I stopped.
“Jennifer! How good to see you again,” Marc said, then gave me a peck on each cheek.
It was odd to hear him speak English. We explained to the performance head that we’d both worked at the same music camp that summer.
“Jennifer is a lovely teacher,” Mark added as he put his arm around me in a friendly way. “And a most excellent teacher. I loved having her work under me.”
The cheeky bastard smiled and I did feel myself blushing.
I introduced my companion, we all chatted a bit about this and that, then as I took my leave, Marc said, “We should get together some time, Jennifer, catch up on what you’ve been doing.”
Exiting the building, the violinist said, “I think he wants you.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“From the way he looked at you and that double-edged comment he made. He wants to get into your pants, I can tell. I’d be inclined to let him.”
Her words made me even more horny. She didn’t know how right she was.
My phone was ringing as I stepped into the apartment.
“Jen, I want to see you tonight. I will drive over and pick you up.”
He didn’t ask if I was free which was a little annoying, so I said, “I promised to call my husband at 7:00.”
“After then.”
Part of me wanted to say no, but the larger part was desperate for him after seeing him at the Faculty. To be truthful, the comments that had barraged me all day from my friends had really turned my crank. I had the guy they were so obviously lusting after.
“Pick me up at 7:30.”
(So that night, Robby, right after you got off the phone with your little wife, she changed her clothes, jumped in a waiting car and went to her lover’s apartment to spend the evening making love to him. I felt horrible hearing your voice, chatting with you about mundane things, and all the while being wet between my legs at the thought of another man’s cock. I was thoroughly in lust with Marc, and there was no denying it. In a textbook example of cognitive dissonance, I just went with this complete dichotomy raging in my head. I loved you, but I desperately wanted my lover. I needed him to take me.)
I wore Marc’s favourite jeans, the ones that made my rear end look so good. He’d bought them for me at Le Chateau on Ste. Catherine’s and I remember that day so well. I had to do a good bit of shimmying to get them pulled up, but they fit me like a second skin. When I came out of the dressing room, Marc was chatting with a salesgirl. Looking at me, a big smile came over his face, and I’m pretty sure his cock started to swell. The salesgirl must have noticed because she said something about how much he obviously liked the way his girlfriend looked. He used to like to watch me put them on almost as much as he liked looking at me wearing them. He always walked a pace or two behind me when I had them on. (The inseam between my legs also felt pretty terrific as it pressed on various places.)
On top, I was wearing a blouse (no bra) and even though it was pretty cold, I also wore the short brown leather jacket Marc had given me for Christmas. Finishing off, I had on the boots you’d given me. In a perverse way, I’d put them on so a bit of you would be with me.
Marc pulled me against him as soon as I’d slid into his car and we kissed passionately.
“Are you hungry, Jen?”
I reached over and grabbed his crotch. “I am for one thing.”
Marc grinned, threw the car in gear and we roared off to his place. On the way, we stopped at his favorite Chinese take-out, but other than one egg roll each, we didn’t get around to eating any of it.
He was following me up the stairs — no doubt looking at my ass, which aroused me considerably — and I stood to the side as he opened the door, putting my arm around his waist. Once inside, he took the food to the kitchen, then went into his bedroom for a moment while I tried to decide whether to take off all my clothes. I’d gotten as far as removing my leather jacket and boots when he reappeared.
Crossing the room, he took me into his arms and we kissed again, almost violently. My tongue was in his mouth in an instant, and I wrapped my right leg around his left, pulling my crotch tightly against it — something I knew he liked. (I did, too!)
“My, but you are horny tonight, my dear. One would think you had not been fucked in a month.”
Marc normally didn’t use such coarse language, but his use of it here only inflamed my heat.
“It feels like that,” I whispered into his ear, before sucking his earlobe. “I want you so much!”
He spun me around and told me to put my hands behind my back. I figured he’d gone to the bedroom to grab one of his ties. You can imagine my surprise when two cold pieces of metal closed around my wrists. Handcuffs, and the thought of being helpless and completely under his control caused my genitals to start throbbing immediately.
I stood watching as Marc unhurriedly removed his overcoat, wondering what he had in mind for me that night.
“Follow me to the kitchen,” he said, and I did.
He fed me my egg roll while he ate his. My lips were greasy and I could feel a drip of plum sauce on my chin, but Marc made no effort to wipe off my mouth. Instead, once he was done with his, he stood and bent over me, pulling my face up, and licked the mess away. I was melting with lust.
“What would you like tonight, my little dove?” (A corny term, but it sounds very sexy delivered in French.)
“Anything you want,” I breathed as we kissed once again.
With that he took me to the bedroom where he stripped the lower part of my body. I could feel juices begin running down one leg.
I sat on the bed and watched Marc remove his clothes. Last off were his briefs and I almost licked my lips as his erection sprang up. My lover was very hard and obviously as aroused as I was.
“Come here, Jen, and take me in your mouth.”
I did as he asked, kneeling in front of him. Marc’s cock didn’t jut straight out when he was really aroused, but went up at a bit of an angle. Without the use of my hands, I had to rise up on my knees to get him into my mouth.
“Go slowly, my love. I want to enjoy this,” he sighed as I began massaging the underneath of his cock’s lovely big head with my tongue.
I slid him out, looked up and asked, “Does it turn you on seeing me like this?”
“Yes. Very much. You are so lovely and so willing.”
“I am yours to use.”
“And that turns you on?”
I nodded and again slid him into my mouth.
(As you know, Robby, I enjoy pleasuring a man with my hands more than with my mouth, but I tried my hardest to make the blow job I was giving Marc the best one he’d ever had. Using his method, I varied what I was doing and let his responses lead me. Since I wasn’t able to feel his testicles rise, I had to rely on him to tell me when to stop. It was an interesting experience.)
When Marc had enough of my oral ministrations (the final few minutes were with him holding my head and fucking my mouth which really turned me on no end), he removed the handcuffs and tied me face up to the headboard of his bed. In something new, though, he had some of those velcro straps which he put on my ankles and tied the ends to the highest part of the headboard. With my legs held spread like that, I felt completely vulnerable to whatever he wanted to do to me. The last thing was a blindfold.
He “tortured” me for well over an hour, bringing me to the brink of orgasm at least five times, using his tongue, hands and several vibrators which he used not only inside me, but on my clitoris and even my breasts. I loved the feeling of my bonds keeping me from moving or doing much more than weakly thrusting against his assault whenever he got me close to cumming. All through it, he kept up a commentary which surprisingly got me extra hot, considering what he was saying.
“Having you like this and not being able to see what’s going on, I could bring in anyone I wanted to and you would be powerless to stop me.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you, Marc?”
“I might. I just might, Jen. I think that you would like it.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I answered.
But at that point Marc had two fingers up inside me, playing with my G-spot. The fact that I immediately got even more wet was a pretty big giveaway that the idea was, in fact, not unwelcome.
“You enjoy having me as a lover, don’t you?”
His thrusing fingers had gotten me very close. “You know I do, Marc,” I panted. “But you’re all I want or need.”
“How do you know that? A penis can come in many sizes. Perhaps I could find someone with one that you would like very much.”
“No, Marc.”
“But you are getting more and more wet. Your mouth is saying one thing, but your body is telling me another.”
“Please, Marc! Let me cum. Don’t play twenty questions with me.”
He removed his fingers, and I groaned with disappointment. Lightly stroking my stretched open thighs with the backs of his fingertips (something he’d discovered that drove me nuts), he continued to tell me about how I couldn’t stop him from letting someone else have me.
“Who knows? I might have let someone in to watch me do this to you.”
Alarm shot through me. He had been out of the room a short time before. He’d told me he needed to pee, but he easily could have gone to the apartment door to let someone in.
“You didn’t do that. You’re just teasing me.”
“Perhaps he is sitting in the chair by the closet door silently watching me pleasure a very beautiful and willing woman. Maybe he has taken himself out of his pants because looking at you has made him so hard, so aroused for you. Would you like me to invite him over to the bed?”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Do you like the idea of someone else watching us make love? Does that turn you on?” He reached forward to stroke my exposed genitals. “I can tell that it does. Say it.”
“No.”
“I will not touch you again unless you do.”
“I won’t say it.”
“Why not? Your body is telling me you like the thought.”
“The thought is one thing. Doing it is completely different.”
“But you said after the first time we kissed last summer that you couldn’t be with me, yet here you are tonight, one of many nights, I might add. You’ve often told me how much you want me. That is why we’re together here like this.”
A thought came into my head. “You haven’t told anyone about us, have you? Is that why this is happening?”
His answer was to move on the bed and begin licking me, occasionally sucking on my clitoris. As my arousal went through the roof. The pleasure he gave me was too intense to think of anything else.
When he again had me near orgasm, he stopped.
“What are you thinking, Jen?”
“I’m thinking how good your tongue feels, how much I want to cum for you. Please make me cum, Marc, please!”
There was no doubt to either of us that I was begging.
He began leisurely stroking my slit, dipping his finger inside me and only occasionally going up to circle my clitoris. My arousal dropped to a high simmer, but from the way he was doing it, I knew I wouldn’t boil over.
“Please, Marc! I want to cum!”
“Will you let my friend make love to you afterwards? He has a very nice cock and you’ve made him very hard.”
“Marc, drop it! There is no other man.”
His voice stayed low, but he sounded amused. “How can you be certain?”
“Marc…”
I was squirming as much as my bonds let me, trying to get his finger near enough to my clitoris to put me over the edge. I was desperate to finish — and he knew it.
“If I make you cum, will you allow him to make love to you?”
I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Yes. Just make me cum!”
His fingers withdrew and using his mouth again, Marc teased me a moment or two longer until he sucked my aching clitoris into his mouth. Lightly flickering it with his tongue while applying gentle suction caused my body to begin shaking and fire to spread out from my genitals as a huge orgasm began to overtake my body. Just as the shaking started, Marc slid a finger up my ass.
It was perhaps the longest orgasm I’d experienced to that point. I was completely lost in the those addicting sensations. If I hadn’t been tied to the bed so completely, I probably would have levitated. Marc told me it was nearly impossible to keep my clit in his mouth, but he was determined to hold on. Every time he gave it a tiny suck, I’d go into orbit again. He told me later, my crisis had lasted well over minute, and even after he stopped stimulating me, delightful tremors shook my body.
I was dimly aware of him getting off the bed.
“Where I you going, Marc? I want you inside me now. Take me!”
“You promised my friend could have you.”
As the pleasure subsided, I thought to myself, Oh God! What have you gotten yourself into? What if Marc isn’t having you on?
The bed moved as someone got back on and positioned himself between my legs.
“Marc! Tell me you’re not doing this! I don’t want anyone but you.”
No answer, but I could feel a very erect cock begin rubbing up and down my slit, moistening its head.
(I will admit to you now, Robby, that I didn’t care. All I wanted at that moment was to be filled by a cock — any cock. I’ve never told you this part of my story because I’ve been so ashamed about it. I heartily and completely apologize to you, dear, long-suffering husband. To be completely truthful (finally), I’m not entirely certain that someone else didn’t have me that night. It felt like Marc’s cock thrusting in me, but he was probably just messing with my head at that point, trying to find out how far I could be pushed. I can see that now. Certainly the person who fucked me did it differently than Marc. It was more frantic, completely about the man’s lust and enjoyment and nothing about me. It could have been Marc doing this to enhance the illusion. The man never spoke and Marc wouldn’t answer me while this was going on, so I suspect it was him. If he’d answered, I would have been able to tell where he was in the room.
But the real bottom line, the thing I’m most ashamed of is that I didn’t care. All I wanted was to be taken, used, and the thought that it might be someone I didn’t know inflamed me even more. We could get all psychological here (and believe me, I have thought about this more than anything I did with Marc), that I was punishing myself for being such a slut (my mother’s favourite word sometimes) and doing all these horrible things outside the sanctity of my marriage with you, that I deserved to be treated this way, but I just don’t know. Marc had awakened a sexual beast in me, and sometimes I’d get (still do!) so lost in pleasure that I didn’t care what was being done or by whom, just as long as the pleasure continued. It always frightened me horribly afterwards, that I could do things like this. But then, the next time I’d get really aroused, this unreasoning part of my psyche would take over. To put it succinctly, I was addicted to sex, to pleasure. It had begun to consume my life.)
The cock inside me began to swell even more, signaling that I would soon be filled with semen. But whose?
“Please don’t cum inside me! Please!”
I was being fucked very hard, my body jolted every time his pubic bone hit mine. I was close to another orgasm. A drop of sweat splattered on my stomach.
“Please pull out when you cum. Marc! Make him pull out!”
Suddenly, the cock withdrew. Its first spurt hit my face, then trailed down my chest with each successive one, until they finally stopped.
The person silently got off the bed. I could hear movement in the room, then the sounds of someone getting dressed out in the living room, and finally the outer door of the apartment opening and closing.
“Marc! Come and let me loose.”
He came back into the room. “Are you very angry with me?”
“I don’t know what I am! Just let me loose!”
It was clear to him I was very upset. What wasn’t clear was that I was far more upset with myself than I was with him for what had just happened, regardless if it had all been fake.
He tried calming me down as I was putting on my clothes, but I wasn’t having any of that. I’m not a redhead for nothing (as you always tell me, Robby).
“There was no one here, Jen. I was just having some fun with you.”
“Yeah, right!”
“You must believe me.”
“Marc… Just don’t say anything. I’m far too angry right now.”
“With me — or with yourself?”
I slapped him. “How dare you.”
“I know how wet you got when I started talking about my friend. It turned you on. You cannot deny that.”
I wasn’t going to let him see me cry, but he was right, completely and utterly right. Without another word, I rushed out of his apartment and walked all the way home, regardless of the fact that it was very cold.
The rest of my night was filled with horrible thoughts and a lot of weeping. By morning, I decided I needed to get away — which is why you found me on our doorstep when you came home from work that evening. I’d been in such a rush to get away that I’d left my house keys back in my apartment (since I generally didn’t carry them with me).
(I lied to you about why I’d come home so suddenly. It had very little to do with “missing you so terribly”. That week where I just dropped everything and rushed back to the man I really loved is something I’ll always cherish. You’ve told me since that you’ve always suspected something had happened back in Montreal. Ever since I told you about Marc, you’ve believed it was just feeling guilty about my affair that drove me home. While that isn’t untrue, it’s not the complete story. Now you have it. Up till that night I’d been someone’s lover. After, I felt like someone’s slut. The worst part was, I had enjoyed the idea when I was going through it. That appalled me — but that whole week I was home with you, the memory of it also kept me turned on. That’s what I was thinking about every time we made love (which was a lot). I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.)
It's true what they say about redheads…
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
Dear Jen,
As ever, beautifully written and SO erotic! Thank you for sharing such an intimate secret with us.
Every good wish,
54321
As ever, beautifully written and SO erotic! Thank you for sharing such an intimate secret with us.
Every good wish,
54321
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
Beautiful story; extremely well written; and very descriptive. I have a question. In the time she was having the affair when did the episode, you just shared, occur? Did she ever determine if there was another man?
Once again thanks for sharing,
V
Once again thanks for sharing,
V
Growing Old is mandatory!
Growing Up is optional!
Growing Up is optional!
-
viking53
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
Jen, you are a true artist in every way. You write really beautifully and expressively. It is truly one of the most erotic pieces I have read. Thank you for sharing such intimate feelings.
Jan
Jan
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
This last chapter is so hot, and Jen you are a fantastic writer.
The fact that you were so turned on by Marc telling you someone else was there was the best. My wife has a work friend and she told me she would let him fuck her, when she said that she squirted and I was not touching her at all. I hope I can get my wife to fuck him. I am the only man she has had in 44 years.
Please keep the chapters coming they are unbelievable and so hot. Would so much like to see a picture of you.
The fact that you were so turned on by Marc telling you someone else was there was the best. My wife has a work friend and she told me she would let him fuck her, when she said that she squirted and I was not touching her at all. I hope I can get my wife to fuck him. I am the only man she has had in 44 years.
Please keep the chapters coming they are unbelievable and so hot. Would so much like to see a picture of you.
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
This story (combined with the other, present day one) are just about the hottest things I've ever read. And Jenn is one of the hottest wives. I discovered these stories on Thursday (how I've missed them to this point baffles me), read off and on all day as I had time, and stayed up late finishing them. And I've been thinking about them ever since, imagining Jenn with Marc, Robby, and Paul. Righteous, you are indeed a lucky man, and she's equally lucky to have you.
As some have pointed out, part of the lack of comments comes from having posted in the Library. But I just want to say that I've enjoyed everything about this. I sincerely hope Jenn finally joins the forum so we can all tell her personally what a sexy, fabulous, thrilling woman she is. And while I know she has no obligation to any of us here ... wow, would I ever love to have a picture of her to admire!
Thanks so much to both of you for posting all of this.
As some have pointed out, part of the lack of comments comes from having posted in the Library. But I just want to say that I've enjoyed everything about this. I sincerely hope Jenn finally joins the forum so we can all tell her personally what a sexy, fabulous, thrilling woman she is. And while I know she has no obligation to any of us here ... wow, would I ever love to have a picture of her to admire!
Thanks so much to both of you for posting all of this.
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
Thank you to everyone for the very kind comments. You're making me blush!
My husband has been after me to let him post at least ONE photo. I'm thinking about it. I really am! Perhaps we have something that would suffice. I'm just very leery of anything being put up. I wouldn't want anything to blow back on us, not only professionally but on our family, as well.
You're all very sweet. Maybe I'll let Rob "talk" me into it!
---Jennifer
My husband has been after me to let him post at least ONE photo. I'm thinking about it. I really am! Perhaps we have something that would suffice. I'm just very leery of anything being put up. I wouldn't want anything to blow back on us, not only professionally but on our family, as well.
You're all very sweet. Maybe I'll let Rob "talk" me into it!
---Jennifer
It's true what they say about redheads…
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
Jennifer finally relented, allowing me to post one photo. Not the one I would have picked, but there you go. She is a redhead, after all...
You can see it here: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=31564
Rob
PS And good news, she's working at editing the next chapter of her chronicle.
You can see it here: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=31564
Rob
PS And good news, she's working at editing the next chapter of her chronicle.
It's true what they say about redheads…
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
I hope this story does not end with the final chapter with marc. It is so well written I could read it forever.
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
This chapter by Jenn has been almost completely rewritten in light of what she told me about what she'd not been able to tell me until now. I got it from her two days ago and have read it a good half-dozen times. It's made my head spin. There was so much more to their affair than I'd ever suspected, and I can see now why she was so desperate to shield me from it.
But I'm getting ahead of myself and the story.
============================
Chapter 12
Gradually during my time-out at home with you, Robby, I felt myself getting more centered again. In a way it felt as if I was getting over a long illness. My days were spent practising for hours and that was a lovely thing. We talked about me switching schools so that we could be together. It was perverse that you were encouraging me to return to Montreal to finish the year when you had no idea what had been going on and the incredible temptation to which you were sending me back. But to tell you why I was so fearful about returning to school bore an incredible risk to our relationship which I was unwilling to chance. So I kept silent.
I really did struggle with telling you. Sometimes, during the day I’d decide that tonight was the night I’d sit you down and confess all. I’d throw myself on your mercy and hope beyond hope that you’d understand. Then evening would come and I’d chicken out — every time. My thinking was that you didn’t deserve the heartache it would probably give you. My hope was I could just move past it, lock the whole experience away (I knew I could never forget it), and move on with my life. I was so immature and naive, wasn’t I?
At the same time, I was trying to come to grips with what had happened that last time I’d been with Marc. Had he indeed shared me with someone else? Had someone I’d never seen taken me? Sometimes I’d think no, and others, I’d be certain that it had happened. Marc did mess with my head constantly. Had this just been another time he’d done it?
On that weekend closing my “break” with you, we talked about what I should do. Finally, you made me see that if I left the program I was in, I would have wasted nearly a full year. Our finances were such that it magnified the loss. By then, I was feeling stronger and decided that I’d gotten Marc out of my system. I’d return, lose his phone number and avoid any place I might expect to see him. Yes, I knew I would masturbate many times to the memory of the things Marc and I had done together. I’d grown to really love and need sexual release. Without you there, Robby, to scratch my itch, I was fully aware that I’d need to take care of myself, but I would henceforth do it alone and safely. If I’d really stopped to think about it, I would have seen all the danger signals and made a different choice, but I was still in the space where I constantly fooled myself about my addiction — and addiction it certainly was.
So that Sunday, you dropped me at the airport and I hopped on the plane, planning on spending the next two-and-a-half months concentrating on finishing my Masters and getting the hell out of Dodge before I could make any more stupid choices.
Fortunately, I didn’t have a phone machine in my apartment because when I got back there no doubt would have been a stuffed message box. As it was, I immediately spotted an envelope that had been shoved under the door. I recognized Marc’s handwriting. I tore the thing into little shreds and flushed it down the toilet, not wanting to tempt fate.
The third day I was back at school (I explained my sudden absence for a week as a family emergency — which could certainly describe what had happened), I had practised nearly six hours and was totally fried but feeling great with my new-found equilibrium. Nearing the main doors to the Faculty, I wasn’t paying any attention, and as I juggled my book bag and violin to push through the door, suddenly Marc was standing in front of me.
To say I was thrown for a loop would be the understatement of the century. Of course I’d known our paths would eventually cross, but that had been in the far-off, hazy “future”. We’d see each other across a crowded room or in the lobby during the intermission of a concert, something like that. I would spot him and decide (or not) to approach and speak to him.
Now here is was right in front of me, no preparation, no chance for me to pretend I hadn’t seen him. Yeah, I could have turned on my heel and walked away or pushed past him saying I didn’t wish to talk. But I did neither of those things. I just stood there, probably with my eyes bugged out and fervently hoping I would wake up or suddenly discover the secret of invisibility or teleportation.
“Jennifer? I have been so worried about you. Where have you been?”
“I went away. I… I needed time to think.”
“Look, this is not the place to do this. May I take you somewhere? We need to talk.”
I could have just said no. My heart was thumping its way out of my chest, I was starting to perspire and my legs felt like jello. I needed to sit down and gather myself. But Marc was right. It might cause talk to see him conversing with me in the lobby of the school.
I let him lead me away. The one thing I did manage to squeak out was, “Not to your apartment.”
His car was parked around the corner. He drove us to my apartment, which in retrospect was an equally bad idea, but I was too numb to think clearly. Less than five minutes later we were seated at my small kitchen table with some water heating on the stove for coffee. I really could have used a shot of something stiff but I seldom had alcohol in stock.
We talked long and hard. Marc apologized profusely for what he had done. I got his solemn assurance that he had only been messing with my head, that there had been no one else in the apartment with us the last time we’d been together. I chose to believe him.
“So is it all over between us?” he finally asked.
To this day I wonder what my life would now be like if I’d made the obvious (and sensible) answer. Everything would have been messy at some point, but far less so if I’d just been able to use my fucking brain. As it was, I didn’t answer for a good two or three minutes, simply sitting there looking down at the steam slowly drifting up from my coffee mug.
Of course my mind wasn’t a blank, but what I was weighing was dangerous. The past ten days had been very intense for me, asleep as well as awake. It was if my unconscious was also trying to sort through things when I was in dreamland. Marc was there constantly. Some of my dreams were variations on things we’d done together, several had been very hot and erotic. I was usually outside my body in those dreams, watching us make love, seeing Marc turning me inside out with lust.
But there had been some dark and dangerous dreams, as well. Ones where we were going further down the path he’d introduced during our last time together. I was tied up, unable to move. People were making love to me, people I couldn’t see because I was blindfolded. Then Marc would take off the blindfold and I’d see that the room was full of men, all with large rampant erections and hungry looks on their faces. Someone would climb onto the bed and mount me, and I again would be filled by a hot erection, as they took me quickly and hard. I couldn’t take my eyes off those male organs, all waiting to feel to be buried deep inside me.
I would wake from those dreams drenched in sweat and shaking. Unable to sleep, I’d lie, looking into the darkness until I had to reach down to my genitals and begin stroking myself slowly. I was always unbelievably wet, my clitoris swollen and hot. My fingers wouldn’t be enough, so I’d reach into the spot between my mattress and the wall and pull out my dildo. My orgasm would come quickly and hard, leaving me gasping at its intensity. My lust sated, I’d be able to go back to sleep.
These dreams of course troubled me a lot, but I simply figured I was going through a withdrawal of sorts. With Marc now sitting across the small table from me, our knees actually touching if either shifted, I felt myself losing grip on my resolve as if I was falling forward, falling towards him. My attention drifted between what Marc was saying and my own inner dialogue in a most disconcerting way. I know now that he was completely aware of that turmoil, and he told me later he felt very bad about what he had caused, was causing me to go through.
One mug of coffee turned into two. Our conversation drifted to music, politics (musical as well as governmental) and I felt myself calming down.
Eventually Marc asked, “May I take you to dinner tomorrow evening? Are you free?”
Again, I could have easily told him no.
“I was planning to go to a friend’s recital.”
“Come out to dinner with me instead. We should talk some more.”
“As long as it’s only talking.”
“You have my word. Besides, what could we get up to in a crowded restaurant?”
Despite myself, I laughed with him, both of us remembering that ridiculous lunch we’d shared where he’d stroked me to an excellent orgasm under the table.
Marc arranged to pick me up at 6:30 and then quickly took his leave. I sat in my empty apartment the rest of the evening, trying to sort out my poor mixed up head. One moment, I’d be reaching for the phone to tell Marc I’d had second thoughts, and the next I’d be thinking about how his hot kisses felt when we both orgasmed together, our lips and tongues echoing what was going on in our conjoined genitals.
There was no way I could sleep until I’d masturbated twice, once in the shower and once after I’d tossed and turned for an hour. Thankfully, no dreams disturbed my slumber in the night.
The next day I was a mess. I couldn’t concentrate, could barely think straight. I lied to my teacher that I hadn’t been able to practise adequately while I was home because of the situation, and she said that she understood. It increased my guilt to have lied to her. I spent the rest of the afternoon, riding aimlessly on the Metro.
At 6:30, I was waiting between the outer and inner doors of my apartment building for Marc to arrive. As always, I wanted to take the least amount of time getting into his car. Less time, less chance of anyone seeing me with him. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to know immediately what was going on.
He was prompt and I hurried to his car. We didn’t speak at first as he drove us over the mountain to a small restaurant in the Côtes-de-Neiges section of the city.
The menu was rural French Canadian and I liked it very much. Obviously, Marc hadn’t decided on it by accident.
“How was your day?” he asked as we drove.
“Not all that good. I had zero concentration.”
“Why was that?”
“Because of you.” My comment required clarification, so I added, “I was thinking about you.”
Marc looked serious. “In a good way?”
I decided to cut right to the chase. “Why did you do that to me last time we were together?”
“I thought you might enjoy it.”
“How can you say that? Do you presume to know me so well?”
“Jen, please do not be angry with me. There had been indications.”
“What kind of indications? I never said anything.”
“Not with your mouth, perhaps. Your body has told me a different story.”
“Because I sometimes like to be tied up you think I want people I don’t know to use me?”
Marc waited at least a minute before answering, busying himself with getting through the traffic on the far side of Mont-Royal.
“Let me ask you something. Are you aroused right now talking about this?”
What I was was halfway to completely pissed off with him. But now that he asked, I realized I was definitely slightly aroused — as I had been for the last ten days whenever I allowed myself to think about that last time we were together. I was also petrified by what that seemed to mean.
So I lied. “Not really.”
“Then I am sorry.”
“For what?”
Marc really did look sad. “For taking you in a direction you really did not want to go. For making you unhappy enough to leave for a week. I have missed you so much.”
I felt his words were sincere, and they touched me deeply. Politics aside (he was an unapologetic separatiste), I enjoyed Marc’s company — and I’m not referring to his sexual company.
His hand was on the car’s stick shift as I covered it with my own. “I thought about you a lot while I was away.”
“In a good way?”
I smiled despite myself. “Sometimes. You really upset me.”
“And for that I am most sorry. You have my complete apology,” he said yet again
We were at the restaurant. Marc found a spot nearby and we parked. Just before getting out of the car, he turned in his seat.
“Do you think it is possible to go back to the way we were before, Jen? I have missed you, the inner person and my good friend, very much, but I have also missed the woman who has shared my bed so many times in the past months: your warm body, the way you look at me when I first enter you, your gasps and moans as I give you pleasure, the way you glow afterwards. I have never had a lover like you, and I miss that more than you can imagine.”
I could not help myself. I leaned over and our lips met, almost chastely at first, and then with an overwhelming hunger. Despite what had happened, despite my week of struggling to get my headspace back to normal, I wanted this man. I needed to feel him thrusting into me, knowing my body and mind better than I did and taking me to heights of pleasure I could scarcely believe.
When our kiss finally broke, I told him, “Take me to your apartment, dear Marc. I’m not really that hungry after all.” We kissed again and my hand snaked to his now erect penis. “At least, I’m not hungry for food.”
We were like two animals that night. I was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a pullover sweater and Marc had his free hand between my legs or under my sweater all the way back to Old Montreal. Of course, I had his cock freed from his slacks by the time the first light changed. If his car hadn’t had the stick shift, I would have had my lips around it, teasing him unmercifully. We didn’t speak. We just touched and stroked and enjoyed. My now-hard nipples scraped with every movement against the rough yarn of my sweater sending happy shivers directly down to my crotch. I was completely aroused, ready to give and take pleasure from this male from whom I could not break away.
We walked side by side up his building’s stair. Marc’s hand was inside my jeans, resting on my bare ass, kneading the muscles in a pleasing way. I had my hand on the front of his slacks, making sure he stayed very hard. He told me later the thing that turned him on the most was that my face and neck were very flushed, my eyes wide and dilated so he knew I was completely aroused and ready for him.
The door had barely closed when he began stripping me. My boots came off first, followed by my jeans and panties. I removed my sweater while he knelt and began kissing my pubic region, holding my rear end tightly in his hands to keep me in place. It felt heavenly.
Leading me over to his sofa, he laid me back and quickly removed his overcoat and clothes. I watched him, waiting for the appearance of the cock I loved so much and wanted so badly. I was not disappointed. As he pulled down his briefs, there it was, hot and fat and an angry blush at its head. I looked down, and my genitals were also very red. I could feel juices running down my slit to the leather of the sofa. I had never wanted anyone so much.
Marc knelt between my legs which I lifted and spread apart so he would have easy access. He grabbed my wrists firmly and using only his lips and tongue, drove me to two quick orgasms no more than a few minutes in. I wanted to hold his head again me, but my wrists were pinned to either side of my body in his strong grip.
My words were unrestrained, though, as I told him graphically how much I was enjoying being sucked off by him, how much I wanted to feel him inside me, taking his pleasure in my pussy and then shooting his cum deep inside. I’d never liked that word until that night. I didn’t want his semen; I wanted his cum. I wanted to feel his cock swell and pulse as I squeezed him hard, knowing that his passion for me was being expressed by filling me with his seed. If I hadn’t been on birth control that night, I wouldn’t have cared. (That was a very scary thought afterward, believe me!)
Marc’s tongue and lips drove me upwards towards a third orgasm and I was now begging him to plunge his cock into me. He suddenly and frustratingly stopped what he was doing, but helped me turn sideways on the sofa. I threw one leg over the back and braced the other on the floor. Marc took me as he had our very first time together, but this time holding my wrists, pinning them to the sofa arm behind my head as he supported his body on his extended arms.
He entered me quickly and hard, using none of the finesse with which he often teased me. I was his and he was taking me in the way that would give him the most pleasure. Held down as I was, I felt incredibly aroused and did my best to push back against him every time our bodies crashed together.
We were both totally out of control in our lust, making up for the days we’d been apart. A few hours earlier I’d been rehearsing a speech in my head about how our time together was at an end, and now, here I was, unable to deny that I still wanted Marc. I wanted this. I needed it.
He managed to hold out until my third orgasm began then, with one final deep thrust, I felt his cock swell and begin pulsing wildly. Eventually his grip on my hands loosened and I slid them out, pulling him to me. The hardness of his erection had subsided a little, but he didn’t lose it completely as we kissed and stroked each other gently. Eventually though, he did slip out. A flood of his semen followed.
We made love twice more that night, and I came the closest I ever did to staying over with him. When his car finally pulled up in front of my apartment, it was nearly two a.m.
“When can I see you again, my Jen?” he asked after a tender kiss.
“I have to help at a concert tomorrow night. We could meet after, I suppose.”
“That would be most lovely. I will await your call.”
Sadly, another magnificent evening of lovemaking didn’t happen. Our wild sex had brought on my period a couple of days early. The next night we had a late supper but I sucked him off in my apartment before we parted.
Four days later, we resumed our lovemaking and it was as wild as the previous time, although not as frantic. I allowed Marc to once again tie me to his bed, but with no blindfold this time.
Despite all my resolutions, despite the wonderful week I enjoyed with you, Robby, I was right back where I started. Marc’s loving was like a drug from which I just couldn’t bring myself to walk away.
But I'm getting ahead of myself and the story.
============================
Chapter 12
Gradually during my time-out at home with you, Robby, I felt myself getting more centered again. In a way it felt as if I was getting over a long illness. My days were spent practising for hours and that was a lovely thing. We talked about me switching schools so that we could be together. It was perverse that you were encouraging me to return to Montreal to finish the year when you had no idea what had been going on and the incredible temptation to which you were sending me back. But to tell you why I was so fearful about returning to school bore an incredible risk to our relationship which I was unwilling to chance. So I kept silent.
I really did struggle with telling you. Sometimes, during the day I’d decide that tonight was the night I’d sit you down and confess all. I’d throw myself on your mercy and hope beyond hope that you’d understand. Then evening would come and I’d chicken out — every time. My thinking was that you didn’t deserve the heartache it would probably give you. My hope was I could just move past it, lock the whole experience away (I knew I could never forget it), and move on with my life. I was so immature and naive, wasn’t I?
At the same time, I was trying to come to grips with what had happened that last time I’d been with Marc. Had he indeed shared me with someone else? Had someone I’d never seen taken me? Sometimes I’d think no, and others, I’d be certain that it had happened. Marc did mess with my head constantly. Had this just been another time he’d done it?
On that weekend closing my “break” with you, we talked about what I should do. Finally, you made me see that if I left the program I was in, I would have wasted nearly a full year. Our finances were such that it magnified the loss. By then, I was feeling stronger and decided that I’d gotten Marc out of my system. I’d return, lose his phone number and avoid any place I might expect to see him. Yes, I knew I would masturbate many times to the memory of the things Marc and I had done together. I’d grown to really love and need sexual release. Without you there, Robby, to scratch my itch, I was fully aware that I’d need to take care of myself, but I would henceforth do it alone and safely. If I’d really stopped to think about it, I would have seen all the danger signals and made a different choice, but I was still in the space where I constantly fooled myself about my addiction — and addiction it certainly was.
So that Sunday, you dropped me at the airport and I hopped on the plane, planning on spending the next two-and-a-half months concentrating on finishing my Masters and getting the hell out of Dodge before I could make any more stupid choices.
Fortunately, I didn’t have a phone machine in my apartment because when I got back there no doubt would have been a stuffed message box. As it was, I immediately spotted an envelope that had been shoved under the door. I recognized Marc’s handwriting. I tore the thing into little shreds and flushed it down the toilet, not wanting to tempt fate.
The third day I was back at school (I explained my sudden absence for a week as a family emergency — which could certainly describe what had happened), I had practised nearly six hours and was totally fried but feeling great with my new-found equilibrium. Nearing the main doors to the Faculty, I wasn’t paying any attention, and as I juggled my book bag and violin to push through the door, suddenly Marc was standing in front of me.
To say I was thrown for a loop would be the understatement of the century. Of course I’d known our paths would eventually cross, but that had been in the far-off, hazy “future”. We’d see each other across a crowded room or in the lobby during the intermission of a concert, something like that. I would spot him and decide (or not) to approach and speak to him.
Now here is was right in front of me, no preparation, no chance for me to pretend I hadn’t seen him. Yeah, I could have turned on my heel and walked away or pushed past him saying I didn’t wish to talk. But I did neither of those things. I just stood there, probably with my eyes bugged out and fervently hoping I would wake up or suddenly discover the secret of invisibility or teleportation.
“Jennifer? I have been so worried about you. Where have you been?”
“I went away. I… I needed time to think.”
“Look, this is not the place to do this. May I take you somewhere? We need to talk.”
I could have just said no. My heart was thumping its way out of my chest, I was starting to perspire and my legs felt like jello. I needed to sit down and gather myself. But Marc was right. It might cause talk to see him conversing with me in the lobby of the school.
I let him lead me away. The one thing I did manage to squeak out was, “Not to your apartment.”
His car was parked around the corner. He drove us to my apartment, which in retrospect was an equally bad idea, but I was too numb to think clearly. Less than five minutes later we were seated at my small kitchen table with some water heating on the stove for coffee. I really could have used a shot of something stiff but I seldom had alcohol in stock.
We talked long and hard. Marc apologized profusely for what he had done. I got his solemn assurance that he had only been messing with my head, that there had been no one else in the apartment with us the last time we’d been together. I chose to believe him.
“So is it all over between us?” he finally asked.
To this day I wonder what my life would now be like if I’d made the obvious (and sensible) answer. Everything would have been messy at some point, but far less so if I’d just been able to use my fucking brain. As it was, I didn’t answer for a good two or three minutes, simply sitting there looking down at the steam slowly drifting up from my coffee mug.
Of course my mind wasn’t a blank, but what I was weighing was dangerous. The past ten days had been very intense for me, asleep as well as awake. It was if my unconscious was also trying to sort through things when I was in dreamland. Marc was there constantly. Some of my dreams were variations on things we’d done together, several had been very hot and erotic. I was usually outside my body in those dreams, watching us make love, seeing Marc turning me inside out with lust.
But there had been some dark and dangerous dreams, as well. Ones where we were going further down the path he’d introduced during our last time together. I was tied up, unable to move. People were making love to me, people I couldn’t see because I was blindfolded. Then Marc would take off the blindfold and I’d see that the room was full of men, all with large rampant erections and hungry looks on their faces. Someone would climb onto the bed and mount me, and I again would be filled by a hot erection, as they took me quickly and hard. I couldn’t take my eyes off those male organs, all waiting to feel to be buried deep inside me.
I would wake from those dreams drenched in sweat and shaking. Unable to sleep, I’d lie, looking into the darkness until I had to reach down to my genitals and begin stroking myself slowly. I was always unbelievably wet, my clitoris swollen and hot. My fingers wouldn’t be enough, so I’d reach into the spot between my mattress and the wall and pull out my dildo. My orgasm would come quickly and hard, leaving me gasping at its intensity. My lust sated, I’d be able to go back to sleep.
These dreams of course troubled me a lot, but I simply figured I was going through a withdrawal of sorts. With Marc now sitting across the small table from me, our knees actually touching if either shifted, I felt myself losing grip on my resolve as if I was falling forward, falling towards him. My attention drifted between what Marc was saying and my own inner dialogue in a most disconcerting way. I know now that he was completely aware of that turmoil, and he told me later he felt very bad about what he had caused, was causing me to go through.
One mug of coffee turned into two. Our conversation drifted to music, politics (musical as well as governmental) and I felt myself calming down.
Eventually Marc asked, “May I take you to dinner tomorrow evening? Are you free?”
Again, I could have easily told him no.
“I was planning to go to a friend’s recital.”
“Come out to dinner with me instead. We should talk some more.”
“As long as it’s only talking.”
“You have my word. Besides, what could we get up to in a crowded restaurant?”
Despite myself, I laughed with him, both of us remembering that ridiculous lunch we’d shared where he’d stroked me to an excellent orgasm under the table.
Marc arranged to pick me up at 6:30 and then quickly took his leave. I sat in my empty apartment the rest of the evening, trying to sort out my poor mixed up head. One moment, I’d be reaching for the phone to tell Marc I’d had second thoughts, and the next I’d be thinking about how his hot kisses felt when we both orgasmed together, our lips and tongues echoing what was going on in our conjoined genitals.
There was no way I could sleep until I’d masturbated twice, once in the shower and once after I’d tossed and turned for an hour. Thankfully, no dreams disturbed my slumber in the night.
The next day I was a mess. I couldn’t concentrate, could barely think straight. I lied to my teacher that I hadn’t been able to practise adequately while I was home because of the situation, and she said that she understood. It increased my guilt to have lied to her. I spent the rest of the afternoon, riding aimlessly on the Metro.
At 6:30, I was waiting between the outer and inner doors of my apartment building for Marc to arrive. As always, I wanted to take the least amount of time getting into his car. Less time, less chance of anyone seeing me with him. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to know immediately what was going on.
He was prompt and I hurried to his car. We didn’t speak at first as he drove us over the mountain to a small restaurant in the Côtes-de-Neiges section of the city.
The menu was rural French Canadian and I liked it very much. Obviously, Marc hadn’t decided on it by accident.
“How was your day?” he asked as we drove.
“Not all that good. I had zero concentration.”
“Why was that?”
“Because of you.” My comment required clarification, so I added, “I was thinking about you.”
Marc looked serious. “In a good way?”
I decided to cut right to the chase. “Why did you do that to me last time we were together?”
“I thought you might enjoy it.”
“How can you say that? Do you presume to know me so well?”
“Jen, please do not be angry with me. There had been indications.”
“What kind of indications? I never said anything.”
“Not with your mouth, perhaps. Your body has told me a different story.”
“Because I sometimes like to be tied up you think I want people I don’t know to use me?”
Marc waited at least a minute before answering, busying himself with getting through the traffic on the far side of Mont-Royal.
“Let me ask you something. Are you aroused right now talking about this?”
What I was was halfway to completely pissed off with him. But now that he asked, I realized I was definitely slightly aroused — as I had been for the last ten days whenever I allowed myself to think about that last time we were together. I was also petrified by what that seemed to mean.
So I lied. “Not really.”
“Then I am sorry.”
“For what?”
Marc really did look sad. “For taking you in a direction you really did not want to go. For making you unhappy enough to leave for a week. I have missed you so much.”
I felt his words were sincere, and they touched me deeply. Politics aside (he was an unapologetic separatiste), I enjoyed Marc’s company — and I’m not referring to his sexual company.
His hand was on the car’s stick shift as I covered it with my own. “I thought about you a lot while I was away.”
“In a good way?”
I smiled despite myself. “Sometimes. You really upset me.”
“And for that I am most sorry. You have my complete apology,” he said yet again
We were at the restaurant. Marc found a spot nearby and we parked. Just before getting out of the car, he turned in his seat.
“Do you think it is possible to go back to the way we were before, Jen? I have missed you, the inner person and my good friend, very much, but I have also missed the woman who has shared my bed so many times in the past months: your warm body, the way you look at me when I first enter you, your gasps and moans as I give you pleasure, the way you glow afterwards. I have never had a lover like you, and I miss that more than you can imagine.”
I could not help myself. I leaned over and our lips met, almost chastely at first, and then with an overwhelming hunger. Despite what had happened, despite my week of struggling to get my headspace back to normal, I wanted this man. I needed to feel him thrusting into me, knowing my body and mind better than I did and taking me to heights of pleasure I could scarcely believe.
When our kiss finally broke, I told him, “Take me to your apartment, dear Marc. I’m not really that hungry after all.” We kissed again and my hand snaked to his now erect penis. “At least, I’m not hungry for food.”
We were like two animals that night. I was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a pullover sweater and Marc had his free hand between my legs or under my sweater all the way back to Old Montreal. Of course, I had his cock freed from his slacks by the time the first light changed. If his car hadn’t had the stick shift, I would have had my lips around it, teasing him unmercifully. We didn’t speak. We just touched and stroked and enjoyed. My now-hard nipples scraped with every movement against the rough yarn of my sweater sending happy shivers directly down to my crotch. I was completely aroused, ready to give and take pleasure from this male from whom I could not break away.
We walked side by side up his building’s stair. Marc’s hand was inside my jeans, resting on my bare ass, kneading the muscles in a pleasing way. I had my hand on the front of his slacks, making sure he stayed very hard. He told me later the thing that turned him on the most was that my face and neck were very flushed, my eyes wide and dilated so he knew I was completely aroused and ready for him.
The door had barely closed when he began stripping me. My boots came off first, followed by my jeans and panties. I removed my sweater while he knelt and began kissing my pubic region, holding my rear end tightly in his hands to keep me in place. It felt heavenly.
Leading me over to his sofa, he laid me back and quickly removed his overcoat and clothes. I watched him, waiting for the appearance of the cock I loved so much and wanted so badly. I was not disappointed. As he pulled down his briefs, there it was, hot and fat and an angry blush at its head. I looked down, and my genitals were also very red. I could feel juices running down my slit to the leather of the sofa. I had never wanted anyone so much.
Marc knelt between my legs which I lifted and spread apart so he would have easy access. He grabbed my wrists firmly and using only his lips and tongue, drove me to two quick orgasms no more than a few minutes in. I wanted to hold his head again me, but my wrists were pinned to either side of my body in his strong grip.
My words were unrestrained, though, as I told him graphically how much I was enjoying being sucked off by him, how much I wanted to feel him inside me, taking his pleasure in my pussy and then shooting his cum deep inside. I’d never liked that word until that night. I didn’t want his semen; I wanted his cum. I wanted to feel his cock swell and pulse as I squeezed him hard, knowing that his passion for me was being expressed by filling me with his seed. If I hadn’t been on birth control that night, I wouldn’t have cared. (That was a very scary thought afterward, believe me!)
Marc’s tongue and lips drove me upwards towards a third orgasm and I was now begging him to plunge his cock into me. He suddenly and frustratingly stopped what he was doing, but helped me turn sideways on the sofa. I threw one leg over the back and braced the other on the floor. Marc took me as he had our very first time together, but this time holding my wrists, pinning them to the sofa arm behind my head as he supported his body on his extended arms.
He entered me quickly and hard, using none of the finesse with which he often teased me. I was his and he was taking me in the way that would give him the most pleasure. Held down as I was, I felt incredibly aroused and did my best to push back against him every time our bodies crashed together.
We were both totally out of control in our lust, making up for the days we’d been apart. A few hours earlier I’d been rehearsing a speech in my head about how our time together was at an end, and now, here I was, unable to deny that I still wanted Marc. I wanted this. I needed it.
He managed to hold out until my third orgasm began then, with one final deep thrust, I felt his cock swell and begin pulsing wildly. Eventually his grip on my hands loosened and I slid them out, pulling him to me. The hardness of his erection had subsided a little, but he didn’t lose it completely as we kissed and stroked each other gently. Eventually though, he did slip out. A flood of his semen followed.
We made love twice more that night, and I came the closest I ever did to staying over with him. When his car finally pulled up in front of my apartment, it was nearly two a.m.
“When can I see you again, my Jen?” he asked after a tender kiss.
“I have to help at a concert tomorrow night. We could meet after, I suppose.”
“That would be most lovely. I will await your call.”
Sadly, another magnificent evening of lovemaking didn’t happen. Our wild sex had brought on my period a couple of days early. The next night we had a late supper but I sucked him off in my apartment before we parted.
Four days later, we resumed our lovemaking and it was as wild as the previous time, although not as frantic. I allowed Marc to once again tie me to his bed, but with no blindfold this time.
Despite all my resolutions, despite the wonderful week I enjoyed with you, Robby, I was right back where I started. Marc’s loving was like a drug from which I just couldn’t bring myself to walk away.
It's true what they say about redheads…
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
This is intense!
Great writing I feel that I am like a fly on the wall.
Great writing I feel that I am like a fly on the wall.
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
Good descriptor. It was a very intense time for Jennifer, and there are details coming out that even I didn't know until now. That's why she's willing to do all this editing. She's not entirely pleased that it's being posted here by me, but she's willing to put up with it to make amends, and I believe it's important for some people here to be able to read it. It all turned out fine in the end, but in so many ways it so easily could have been a train wreck of monumental proportions for our relationship. In the end, our close bond saved us, but it was touch and go.tellmeall wrote:This is intense!
Great writing I feel that I am like a fly on the wall.
Stay tuned...
It's true what they say about redheads…
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
I'm not going anywhere!
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
It says pretty clearly that Marc had been messing with her head to see what her response would be (obviously not very good at first).viking68 wrote:Beautiful story; extremely well written; and very descriptive. I have a question. In the time she was having the affair when did the episode, you just shared, occur? Did she ever determine if there was another man?
Once again thanks for sharing,
V
She showed up unannounced on my doorstep in late January, if memory serves, or it might have been right at the beginning of February, but definitely in that time frame.
Rob
It's true what they say about redheads…
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
-
viking53
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
Really wondering how this continued to develop. Any new chapter in the near future? Its such a great story and so well written.
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
Thanks! We're on holiday at the moment and it's hard to get Jenn to sit at a laptop let alone work on editing her story.viking53 wrote:Really wondering how this continued to develop. Any new chapter in the near future? Its such a great story and so well written.
Stay tuned. I'll bug her when we get home!
It's true what they say about redheads…
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
Is there another chapter in the works?
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
Jenn's about halfway through the rewrite since the original account she wrote for me does not include "all the facts". Some other things have been going on in our lives and this account has sort of taken a back seat for the moment. Sorry for the delay. There will be more soon on the other thread and it's a collaboration from both of us. Stay tuned!
It's true what they say about redheads…
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
-
hardwettalk
- Experienced
- Posts: 120
- Joined: Mon Dec 12, 2011 4:54 pm
- Location: North Florida
- Contact:
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
What do you mean "on the other thread". Is there more? Gee I hope so.
Your wife is a very skilled, author. And I'm so very happy she had this extraordinary sexual experience, few reach such heights.
Your wife is a very skilled, author. And I'm so very happy she had this extraordinary sexual experience, few reach such heights.
-
hardwettalk
- Experienced
- Posts: 120
- Joined: Mon Dec 12, 2011 4:54 pm
- Location: North Florida
- Contact:
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
PS where is the photo? I'm going nuts trying to find it................HELP
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Lensman2000
- Player
- Posts: 438
- Joined: Wed Jul 23, 2014 4:29 pm
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
I'm addicted to this story. Beautiful writing.
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
Jenn let me put it up (quite innocuous, actually), then had second thoughts, so she asked me to take it down. Sorry about that, but she has a public life and is trying to protect it.hardwettalk wrote:PS where is the photo? I'm going nuts trying to find it................HELP
It's true what they say about redheads…
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
Re: Between Jennifer and Marc
She's dragging her heels over the next two installments of her, shall we call it "confessional"? I can understand having now read the complete and accurate account. It's not that she's ashamed of anything she did do, but she was completely out of control with Marc by this point. I think she will let me post it -- eventually. It's her decision, though, and I'm not pushing her.
Stay tuned and cross your fingers. A little encouragement might not hurt, either. When I tell her things, her response often is, "Yes, but you say sort of thing all the time."
Rob
Stay tuned and cross your fingers. A little encouragement might not hurt, either. When I tell her things, her response often is, "Yes, but you say sort of thing all the time."
Rob
It's true what they say about redheads…
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613
The recounting of my wife's university affair: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088
And what has happened more recently: http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613