Between Jennifer and Marc

[Righteous]

This is where Jenn's account of her time with Marc really gets hot. There's more to this one, but she's not done looking it over one last time before I post it (very busy lately), but I wanted to get something up for those that are following this. This particular account (in its entirety) really turns my crank.

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My darling Robert, I’ve decided to talk directly to you now in my stories since you’ve so generously accepted what was something I’ve been so ashamed of for so long. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such support when I’ve been so horrible to you. I know you don’t see it that way, but I did. That’s slowly changing now.

I’ve also seen first-hand just how much my account turns you on. That’s been very liberating for me. The fact is, while I still feel a lot of residual guilt, I can now accept what I did with Marc was something that taught me so much about lovemaking in all its glory and intricacy, and rather than eat myself up because I did it, I should freely be sharing it with you, my one true love, so that we can improve our love life together. Marc showed me how to discover the things that I liked, and also how to give a male intense pleasure. There is so much still to show you.

So from here on in, I’m going to be writing these accounts from the viewpoint that I’m speaking directly to you. We’ve been through ad infinitum why I needn’t have worried that you would never accept what I did with Marc, that it would be the end of our relationship, that what I had done actually turned you on. Turns out those countless sleepless nights I suffered, agonizing over my betrayal of our relationship were a total waste of energy. What I did to deserve someone like you is beyond imagining.

Anyway, back to my account…

I returned to Marc’s late the next morning. He was due to take his daughters out for a movie and dinner after, so if I wanted to get laid (and believe me, after the previous evening’s fun, I certainly was ready for more), I had to be there early, knowing that Marc didn’t like to be rushed when making love.

A sidebar here: this was the start of the time in my affair where I was constantly horny. I bought that dildo around then. It was a huge thing for me to work up the courage to walk into that sex shop on St. Catharine to buy it. And as you now know, it was as a close a match for Marc’s cock as I could find. At those times when I couldn’t enjoy the real thing, it was my best substitute. I fucked myself silly with it, sometimes two or three times a day.

Anyway, I called Marc as I was setting out from my apartment, picked up some croissants and showed up at his door around 10:30. He was up, but not yet dressed. I had on those new boots that came up almost to my knees, my tightest jeans and a tight, cropped top with (of course) no bra. It was a cold day, and I’d hadn’t been adequately dressed, so my nipples were sticking out. I wanted to look hot for my lover, and I knew I did. Before I’d rung his doorbell, I’d taken off my hat and brushed my hair, so it would be neat and flowing. I’d used a new shampoo that really brought out its redness.

I was very satisfied to see an immediate response from Marc’s groin as he took my coat and saw how I was dressed for him. I licked my lips (no lipstick), tossed my hair and walked right up behind him, so when he turned from having hung up my coat in the closet, I was there for him. We kissed and my hand snaked down to find his delectable penis nice and hard for me. Marc groaned in his throat as my hand closed tightly around it.

“This is all I’ve been able to think about,” I told him, as our kiss broke. “Today, I want you to use me for your pleasure. Would you like that?”

I already had glommed on to the fact that Marc got off on sometimes dominating me. He also had liked it when I’d dominated him in his studio at the Conservatoire. It seemed as if one of us always had to be in the ascendency whenever we made love. Today would be his turn.

I made coffee and heated the croissants in the oven while Marc watched me. I knew he liked to do that, and I was aware of his eyes following me around the kitchen. I made sure I bent over more than was needed, and smiled seductively whenever I looked at him. His erection was jutting out of his robe, turning me on incredibly. I restrained myself from going over, dropping to my knees, and taking him in my mouth. It had turned my on incredibly to do that the evening before and I couldn’t wait to do it again. I was pleased that my coquettishness was turning him on so obviously.

We sat down to enjoy our simple meal, and behaved like lovers, feeding each other bits of food. He made sure to lick my fingers whenever I popped a morsel of croissant into his mouth, and I did the same. It felt delightful and so erotic.

As Marc was sipping the last of his coffee, I sort of idly tweaked and rolled my left nipple casually as I looked across the small kitchen table at him.

“So, what would you like to do?” I asked as sexily as I could.

“Would you be up for something new, my lovely Jennifer? Something perhaps a bit kinky?”

My pulse quickened. “Like what?”

“Have you ever been restrained and then taken?”

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Sorry to leave you here. Jennifer promises to get her review done soon. Personally, I think she's trying to tease you all. She is a redhead after all.

[limptrevor]

Surveys are notoriously lacking about infidelity, but most assume that at least half the married population has sex with someone other than their spouses. Sex is the most extreme human need beyond the elements of survival.

Our advice is to let it go. We know a couple whose husband has made her life miserable because of one failing like your wife's. It was really meaningless in the larger world, but he has destroyed his own happiness by being a jerk as well as hers.

[Righteous]

Surveys are notoriously lacking about infidelity, but most assume that at least half the married population has sex with someone other than their spouses. Sex is the most extreme human need beyond the elements of survival.

Our advice is to let it go. We know a couple whose husband has made her life miserable because of one failing like your wife's. It was really meaningless in the larger world, but he has destroyed his own happiness by being a jerk as well as hers.

Trevor,

I don't think you've been reading this very carefully. If you had, you'd know I have no problem with what went on with Marc, and Jennifer knows that, too. We've both been having a lot of fun reliving this for a number of years now.

Righteous

[bewareoflizzy]

Absolutely exquisite story-telling. Every chapter is engrossing and captivating. Please keep it going. Your wife is a beautiful, sexy creature and so wonderful to let you share her experiences with us.
My wife had a similar very erotic,intoxicating affair,but, with a man 10 years younger when she was in her 30's and 40's. More, please!

[janandjustin]

Bravo! This is a marvelous retelling of a part of your lives. We can hardly wait for the next installment.
Thank you

[Righteous]

Of all the things Jennifer has written about her and Marc, I think this story is one of the hottest. One night after she finally began to confess that she'd had the affair with him, we'd had a bit too much to drink, actually, Jenn had had quite a bit. In the middle of talking about perhaps going to our bedroom for a little fun, she blurted out, "He used to like to tie me up, you know." No, I didn't know. "He'd tie me to that old iron bed he had and take me." "Did you like it?" I asked, surprised, because she seldom wanted to do that with me. "Yes. Very much if I was in the right mood. It surprised the hell out of me."

So here's the rest of the episode started above. I'm sure you'll like it. Even after 20 years, it still turns my crank! http://ourhotwives.org/forum/posting.ph ... =8&t=28088#

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(Sometimes when I was in just the right mood, it had been sort of a kick to be tied up (or more correctly, down), but the few times I’d let you do this, Robby, my final feeling was, “It’s okay, but not great.” In thinking about it, it’s probably because I didn’t really get off on feeling helpless. I do have to admit, though, that when Marc mentioned restraint that first time, I was at least curious. Part of it was certainly my heightened libido at that point in time.)

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Follow me,” Marc answered as he turned down the central hallway leading to his bedroom.

By the time I got to the bedroom, he’d already shucked off his robe. He erection was as hard as I’d ever seen it. Regardless of the trepidation I felt, Marc was obviously very turned on.

He immediately pulled me to him and was kissing me feverishly, which really turned me on. We stopped for a moment so I could lose my jeans and panties. He asked if I’d leave the top on. That was just as well because the room was a bit chilly. I also kept my socks on.

“What are we going to do?” I asked.

“I wish to tie you to my bed frame. Will you allow me to do that?”

“And then what?”

Marc kissed my nose. “Relax, my little Jennifer. We will do nothing that you don’t want to do. I promise that you will enjoy it.”

“Well, okay.”

Marc had a lovely bed that he’d bought at a yard sale when he was setting up his apartment after the break-up of his marriage. It was made of heavy wrought iron and had a large and lovely headboard (I guess you’d call it) with three horizontal bars and then this vine-tracery all over it. The footboard was the same only lower. It looked very old. He’d had to paint (a very light grey) and I’d admired it from the start.

He had me lie down kind of half reclining against the headboard then arranged some pillows behind me so my back was supported and I would be comfortable. Going to his chest of drawers directly opposite the end of the bed, he tilted the mirror at its top so that I could see myself lying there. I spread my legs wider for him and was rewarded with a delightful smile. Opening his closet, he removed some ties and walked back to the bed. My hands were soon secured to the iron roughly at the level of my head and maybe a foot away on either side.

“Is it too tight?” he asked.

“A little snug,” I answered.

“But you are comfortable?”

I nodded.

“You cannot get away, oui?

I tested my bonds. Marc had bound me very securely, but not too tightly. My heart was pounding. I found the look and feel of the wide bands of his ties around my wrists very erotic. As he looked down at me, his cock* was very hard and throbbing slightly with his heartbeat. We were both obviously very turned on. I was really liking this so far.

(*I found I was using that word in my head more often now, but with the French word Marc seemed to prefer: “bite”. It seemed so much more erotic to me making love to him in French, as if I was free to be someone else. Guess a shrink would have a field day with that!)

“No. But please, Marc…”

He put his index finger to my lips. “I will not hurt you, my darling. That I promise you. I just wish to make sure that you feel helpless. It will add so much to your enjoyment. Trust me.”

I certainly had to trust him now. Marc could do anything he wanted to me. While frightening on one level, I could believe how aroused I’d become simply by being completely helpless. My reaction was…unexpected. Robby and I had done this sort of thing a little and it had done the opposite of turning me on.

Marc got on the bed between my spread legs and spent the next half hour ramping my arousal even higher, all with out kissing me or touching me in any of the usual places of erotic pleasure. The first step was to take one of his handkerchiefs and put it over my face so I couldn’t see what he was up to. Though the handkerchief was clean, it smelled of him, something that also turned me on. I remembering wondering if he’d planned this ahead of time.

He started at my feet. I’m not ticklish in the slightest as you well know, Robby, or I would have been squirming all over the place. Marc’s touch was light and gentle and began with a massage of my toes. Feeling his fingers sliding between them felt surprisingly erotic. The bottoms and tops of my feet followed and everywhere he went sensations were amplified and became increasingly exciting. I felt as if he was slowly turning on my whole body.

My calves followed with his touch heavier and soothing, relaxing me, then light and feathery and more erotic. When he finally brushed the inside of my knees, by legs opened farther without my conscious thought. It was as if my body knew what it wanted. He moved higher following the same pattern and it was as if my body was igniting. He used the back of his hands, lightly dragging his fingernails over the skin of my thighs, drawing ever closer to the junction of my legs.

I was squirming by this time, and panting. The back of my knees seemed to have a direct connections to my genitals and I could feel myself starting to get wet.

Then I could feel him move between my legs, crouching as his hands lightly slid up the sides of my torso. He began to talk softly to me as he now brought fire to my upper body.

“You are the most beautiful woman, my Jennifer. So beautiful. I have wanted you from the moment I saw you back in July. You move with a special grace. And the flame of your hair. I could barely keep my hands quiet as we talked and made music and began to know each other over those two month. I forced myself to stay come, to cool my ardor. I knew you would have to come to me. You are like a cat that way. Only you can decide when you wish to be stroked. Do you remember our first kiss?”

“Oh yes,” I sighed. “I thought about it a lot.”

“Would it surprise you that as soon as I got back to my room I had to masturbate?”

I smiled. “I did, too.”

“Why did you make me wait so long for you then?”

“I was scared to take that step.”

“Are you scared any longer?”

I sighed again. “No. Just worried where all this is going. I have a husband.”

“We are just enjoying each other while you are apart from him. Is that so bad?”

I knew I didn’t want to go there, and frankly, was getting annoyed. Why did he have to here now? I just wanted to get off.

“Marc. Make me cum. Please?”

While this exchange had been going on, Marc had been almost absentmindedly been occasionally running his hands lightly over my breasts, almost as if he was being careless. It was driving me insane. My body was wiggling from frustration, trying to get more of his touch. Not being able to see anything but diffuse light through the handkerchief covering my face made me focus almost all my attention on his touch. Talking only distracted my concentration – and enjoyment.

“Suck my nipples, Marc.”

His response was to twist the left one. It was almost too hard and made me jump, but it was if a spark shot from that nipple right to my clitoris. I couldn’t help the groan that came from deep inside me.

For the next several minutes he tortured me with gentle touches, not quite grazing my aching nipples as he continued to stroke my upper body. With a small shift of his body, I could feel his erection poking at my genitals, never quite in the correct spot, though.

“But it in me, Marc. Please!” I sighed, squirming to see if I could snare it.

My bonds didn’t allow it, though. Even when I tried to squirm down the bed a bit more, he just moved away.

“You’re driving me crazy!”

I could hear the smile in his answer: “I know. You must learn patience, my lovely Jennifer.”

I was at his mercy, so I tried to relax and be patient. It felt as if he was playing my body with the delicacy and knowledge that he brought to the violin.

As I’d experienced before, my arousal ramped higher and higher as he did things like twist my nipples or lightly stroking my neck (a very erogenous zone for me), occasionally cupping my breasts. But his hands always would move off again to less dangerous places and my arousal would taper off.

“You are so beautiful, my Jennifer,” he said softly at one point and your body is so responsive. I love to watch what happens to you when we are together like this. You are getting so flushed.”

“What you’re doing feels so good. But you’re a horrible tease. Put me out of my misery. Please?”

“There are still things to do, my dove. Patience.”

“I’m trying to be patient. You’re such a mean thing.”

“Don’t you enjoy what I do to you?”

“Yes, Marc. It’s the best. I can’t believe the way you make me feel.”

“How do you like it when I do this?”

His hands slid from my sides which he had been rubbing as we spoke. His touch was feathery as he moved to my breasts, gripping each nipple with his thumb and forefinger. With a quick movement, he pulled them up, twisting them quite hard and shaking them quickly.

Involuntarily, I gasped and arched my back. He only twisted my nipples and shook them harder. It felt as if I was suspended by just those tender buds. It was slightly painful, but felt incredibly good at the same time.

When he finally released me, I dropped to the bed again, panting. My body felt as if it was on fire. I could feel my lubricating juices start dripping down my slit. Even though the room wasn’t all that warm, I was sweating.

Again he began stroking me, talking softly about why he enjoyed making love to me so much. His talk was more “dirty” than anything he’d used so far, and since it was in French, I wasn’t always sure what he was talking about, and frankly, I didn’t want to concentrate all that much. I was desperate to have him sink his length into me – and I told him so, using the less polite words I knew.

It seemed to turn Marc on. I could again feel his tip of his cock throbbing between my legs.

Now Marc began using his mouth. Removing the handkerchief from my face, he took possession of my lips and tongue. I can’t tell you how hot it made me when he began sucking on it, something I’d never experienced before. I returned his kisses as best I could since my hands weren’t available.

My neck also got a lot of attention with lips and his tongue. I was almost beside myself with lust, trying to coax him on more by talking dirty. My idea was to get him so excited he’d have to slam his cock into me.

Once again he grabbed my nipples, and twisting them pulled up even harder this time. Moving his lower body a bit, he jammed his knee into my crotch, and almost without thought, I began to hump it. When he started shaking my nipple back and forth, I surprisingly felt an orgasm building. It only took maybe a minute more before it swept over my body. I’d never had anything like that happen before.

It wasn’t a huge one, but very satisfying nonetheless.

Releasing me again, he moved down the bed. I really wanted to fuck now and told him so in no uncertain terms.

“You are not ready.”

“God damn it! How do you know?” I challenged.

“I can tell. You must let me do this my way, Jennifer. It will be worth it.”

I tried to relax, but my body wasn’t completely under my control. He lay down and began kissing the upper part of my thighs, also dragging his tongue lightly along my skin. Very gradually, he approached my steaming pussy. But it wasn’t fast enough!

“I love to smell your arousal,” he said as he planted a kiss on the hair above my slit.

(This was before I trimmed for him. Sorry, my love, I know I should have told you before now that Marc was the reason I began tending “my garden”.)

It seemed like hours before his soft tongue slid between my lips, but it was probably no more than ten minutes. I almost levitated off the bed.

“Oh, God, Marc. I’m so close already.”

I shouldn’t have said that because he immediately moved away. It was incredibly frustrating!

A few minutes later, his mouth was back. This time I felt him slide one finger, then two inside of me. The licking stopped while he gently massaged the top of my vagina, just behind my pubic bone. It felt incredible! I was gasping and writhing within seconds. I could feel something huge building up in me.

“Tell me when your crisis is close, my dove,” he said.

“Close,” I moaned. “Almost there.”

His fingers and tongue almost stopped moving and my arousal dropped down. Then he started up again. Twice more he took me through this infuriating dance. I was trying as hard as I could to free my hands, so I could grab his hair and jam his face into my crotch. But he’d tied me too securely for that.

I was begging now. I had to finish, but didn’t want to tell him how close I was, afraid that he would stop again.

He knew, though. He had to, the way I was thrashing around.

All of a sudden his fingers and tongue were gone and I moaned out my despair.

“Marc! For the love of God, don’t do this to me!”

That was all I had time to say because he was once again between my legs, his body hovering over mine. With one swift movement, he slammed his cock into me so hard I was forced backwards.

He took me like a man possessed. It was almost brutal, but it was just what I needed. My helplessness only increased my erotic pleasure and it took less than a minute for my arousal to crest.

I had never had an orgasm like that one. It felt as if I was being turned inside out. Marc told me later that he could barely stay on me. I was thrashing around and howling, and I’m sure his neighbours upstairs and down thought someone was being murdered.

Water gushed from me and I was certain I’d lost control of my bladder. As I calmed down, Marc was lying directly on top of me, his hands cradling my head as he rained kisses onto my face and neck.

I was a complete wreck, spent, debauched beyond anything I could have imagined.

“I’m so sorry about losing control of my bladder like that.”

Marc kissed my lips. “You did not pee. You came. That was female cum, my dear.”

“What?”

“When a woman get very excited, she can ejaculate somewhat like a man does. That is what happened to you.”

“You’re kidding. I’ve never heard of that.”

“You have led a very sheltered life, I would guess.”

Marc was still very hard inside me, obviously not done yet. Every now and then he would rock his hips forward a bit. I pulled my knees up so he could slide in deeper.

“You haven’t finished,” I said.

“Can you take some more.”

“For you, I would fly to the moon. Take me any way you want.”

Our second coupling was much slower, more thoughtful. He was extended on his arms hovering over me. We looked at each other deeply as we concentrated on how well we could now move together — and how good that felt.

Eventually, Marc’s pace began to quicken and his eyes became clouded. As well as I could, I resisted his deep thrusting, trying to give him as much pleasure as he was giving me.

“Grip me hard, my love!” he cried and I bore down with all the force I could, gripping his length.

He began thrusting harder and I could feel him swelling. That turned me on so much. I loved giving myself to Marc.

He stopped for a moment, rising to his knees, pulling my legs up as he did so and spreading them wide. Slamming into me again, I could feel another orgasm building.

We both finished nearly simultaneously. Actually, feeling his cock start pulsing drove me over the edge. My cum wasn’t as good as the previous one, but it was still pretty damn fine.

Marc collapsed on me, out of breath.

“Um, could you untie me?” I asked.

He had me released in just a few moments. Obviously, I wasn’t the first female he’d done this to.

“Did you enjoy it, my Jennifer?”

I rolled onto my side to look at him. “Couldn’t you tell?” The sheet underneath me was drenched. “Sorry about your bed.”

“Do not be.” He smiled, then glanced at the clock. “Tabernac! It is late!”

I would have really liked a shower, but we had to make tracks. I was also starving, but no invite came to go out with his daughters. During our time together, I occasionally saw them, but only twice at his apartment. I think he didn’t want them to know about us. I was only seven years older than his eldest daughter. I’m equally certain they did know, though. They weren’t stupid.

Since it was on his way, I did get a ride back to my apartment.

When I hopped out of his car, I stuck my head back in and asked, “When can we do that again?”

Marc’s smile was gorgeous, happy that he’d pleased me so much. “Very soon. As soon as I can manage it. I will call you later.”

“I don’t think I could do it tonight, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“See how you feel in a few hours.”

As the hot water of my shower streamed over my head, I realized I was totally and completely in lust with this amazing man. He’d certainly rocked my world today.

And sure enough, he was back between my legs that evening.

[Righteous]

It's been a long time between posts. Sorry about that but we've both been busy (and out of town), but Jennifer has finally had a chance to go over the next installment she wrote for me when she finally confessed to me about her affair with Marc. As I believe I mentioned earlier, as she told me what had transpired by writing the accounts, it got us both very hot -- especially her. Things she'd held back coming out into the light finally, and my acceptance of them, made her guilt nearly disappear and our sex life improved quite dramatically. She especially loved when I'd act out scenarios she'd originally experienced with her lover. Even ten years+ later, it gets us going to talk about her time with him. I've asked over the years if she'd ever consider meeting him again, and she always has said, "No. It's done and in the past. Let it stay there." But the other day she admitted that they'd talked on Facebook a few times. Interesting...

So, at long last, here's the story of Jennifer's "Christmas Party" with Marc. It's one of her hottest chapters. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall!

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Chapter 6

I’ll admit it. After that “two-fuck day” with Marc, I went a bit nuts. I was constantly horny. I even had to play with myself a couple of times in the washroom at school because I was having trouble concentrating enough to practise. Any time my mind wandered, Marc and memories of our lovemaking would flood my mind. Boom! I’d be wet and ready to go.

While it was exhilarating on one level, it was also pretty frightening. I could feel myself beginning to feel more about him than I should. Yeah, yeah, women tend to couple emotion with sex more than they should, I’d heard all that. But I could feel it happening to me, like a door that had been opened a crack. As unbelievable as it may sound, I was determined not to walk through it!

There were a lot of things about Marc that entranced me. I certainly admired his musicianship. He was everything in that regard that I wanted to be: accomplished, well thought of, successful. Every time we played (music) together, I learned something, and he was very generous with his greater expertise. I loved making music with him.

On a personal level, truthfully, he was a bit of a mess. His marriage had broken up because he couldn’t keep from fooling around. I knew I was just one of many along the way. He assured me that he hadn’t been with anyone else, other than one old flame (married, at that) whom he’d gotten together with once after camp had ended and before I showed up.

(In these stories for you, dear husband, I’m only hitting the sexual parts but there was more to my friendship with Marc than just sex. We talked for hours sometimes about any topic under the sun, like you and I often did and still do. Since we only conversed in French, it gave greater distance, I guess you could say, to what I was sharing with him. I didn’t really talk about us. It was more about myself. My guilt over what was happening between us was a constant topic of conversation, at least at the beginning. I realized that Marc was doing his best to keep me on board with it all, but he really did help me to see things clearly. I got the feeling he knew that I would eventually have to tell you about him and me. One thing that sort of makes me laugh now, but has proven very true, is that he was teaching me about lovemaking and the joys of really great sex, same as he could teach me about violin playing. It was all one in the same in a perverted sort of way.)

Marc had awakened in me ideas that I never would have considered, much less do. I actually liked being tied up and helpless while he took his pleasure in me. I also equally enjoyed being forceful with him. No restraints needed there, however. I got to control Marc with my body, and that was heady and exciting with an older and sophisticated man such as he. It was very cool having a secret lover. The people I saw at school had no idea a fairly famous and well-established musician was also completely under my sexual spell. I knew innately that if things went south with us, he’d just latch on to someone else, but for the moment, he was all mine.

On the down side, being around his daughters made me very uncomfortable, especially since the eldest was only 7 years younger than I was. They weren’t stupid so I’m sure they’d figured out what was going on, although they didn’t say anything, thank the lord. Still, I stayed away from his family stuff as much as I could.

Bottom line was that I knew I was playing with fire, but I just couldn’t stop myself. We were very careful whenever we were out in public: no hand holding, no kissing, and definitely not anything else. The only time we could indulge in that is if we were far away from Montreal – and managed that a few times during our time together. Other than that one time, I kept Marc away from my little apartment. That was just too dangerous.

Our relationship was really all about the sex. Marc had shown me how incredibly intense and enjoyable it could be and several times he had completely blown my mind. He could play me like he did his violin, and I loved being played. I’d begun having multiple orgasms when he really worked me up (especially if a bit of bondage was involved). He could make me squirt like a garden hose. After those sessions, I barely had any strength left to get dressed and wobble home.

(I would not stay all night with Marc, regardless of how many times he asked and how wonderful it would have been. I didn’t want you to worry if you called unexpectedly, Robby, and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t want you getting suspicious. I’m truly sorry if that bothers you, but that’s the way I was thinking at the time and you’ve told me numerous times you want me to be perfectly honest.)

So, after that first time being restrained, my libido kicked into overdrive. We got together every night for the next week. Marc went a bit nuts, too, realizing, I think, the hold he had on me. We made love all over his apartment: on the kitchen table (as he stood on the floor ramming me hard enough to move it), on the floor in front of his bedroom mirror (so we could watch his cock thrusting into me), against walls, in the shower. You name it, we did it there, and in countless positions. I have no idea how many times I orgasmed in that 7-day period, but it had to be well over 50. I was in heat.

There was even one time where I was about to leave, and with my hand on the doorknob, I stuck my butt out invitingly, and he walked up behind me, removing my coat and pulling my jeans down, he took me again with me still holding on to the doorknob! I heard people in the hallway and they had to have heard my moans. That supercharged both of us and we came hard in only a few minutes. The amazing thing was that we’d made love three times already that day.

Marc would tease about making me bowlegged, but it wasn’t all that inaccurate.

As lovers, Marc and I were well matched. His cock, slightly longer and thicker than yours, dear husband, fitted me perfectly. When he hit the angle just right, he drove me absolutely insane and I would come four or five times before he finished. Then we’d lie around a bit until he was ready to go again. One long Sunday, we fucked five times.

It didn’t take long to figure out the things that turned Marc on. He loved me wearing a really tight pair of jeans. This meant I had to watch what I ate so I could slip in and out of them fairly easily. Like you, he’s an ass-man and I could make him hard by wiggling it just so. (Problem was there, I would do it unconsciously when he wasn’t around and that occasionally attracted some unwanted male attention.) He liked those two cropped tops I had that showed my midriff. He also loved when I would show up with no underwear. I didn’t wear bras most of the time, but when I’d show up without panties (especially in a dress or skirt), he’d go nuts.

Marc loved my feet and legs, I mean, he really loved them. We’d often warm up for a long session in bed with him massaging them. He would do things with his hands and fingers that got me absolutely soaked and ready for action before he got as far as my knees. I think the biggest turn-on for me is when he would tie my hands to the headboard, put a few pillows under my butt and make love to me as he knelt between my legs. He’d put his palms against the soles of my upraised feet, threading his fingers between my toes. I still haven’t been able to figure out why, but I’d start cumming almost immediately. There was something completely erotic about that. It obviously turn Marc on, too, because he’d feel like steel as he took me hard and fast.

(And that’s where that idea came from, Robby. You do it as well as he did now, and as I’ve already told you, it always makes me think of Marc when you do it.)

Shortly before you picked me up in Montreal that year to drive us to my folk’s place for Christmas, Marc and I shared a little celebration of our own. I still feel a lot of shame for what I did with him that night, but I can only say in my defense that I was completely in over my head at that point and my brain (and conscience) had certainly detached from my body, enabling me to rationalize this huge thing that was going on in my life. But let me tell you, it was very hard to sit in that car with you for 8 hours, talking as if nothing was wrong, and hating myself for doing it. Less than 12 hours before, I had been in the bed of another man, acting completely without shame as I let myself go like I never had before.

It had been five days since I’d seen Marc. We’d been busy, but I’d also had my period. We’d spoken a couple of times on the phone, and during one of them, he’d asked me to masturbate while we spoke and tell him everything that was going through my mind. I didn’t hold back, and I’d been so horny, I came like I never had before just from playing with myself.

So to say I was primed for our final meeting before I’d leave for Christmas is the understatement of the century.

Marc picked me up late morning that Friday (I was skipping school and he had no students that day). We went over the mountain to a small restaurant and had a delightful lunch with a glass of wine each (to prime the pump a bit). Marc behaved incorrigibly, touching me whenever possible as we sat next to each other at a back corner table. Partway through the meal, I felt his hand on my knee. I’d worn his (and yours) favourite wraparound skirt and a tight top with no bra, of course. What he didn’t know is that I was also going commando (and desperately hoping he’d find that out).

We were looking at each other with him telling me how desirable I looked that day (I’d taken extra time on my hair that morning, using my special shampoo that brings out all the red and also had put on a bit of makeup, mostly eyeshadow and mascara. I knew I looked good. I’d also been at the university gym a lot the previous month, so I was a pound or two lighter and my muscles looked even more toned — especially my arms and legs. Remember?) Marc’s hand started moving up my thigh while we chatted. I opened my legs a bit more to make it clear I didn’t mind what he was doing. In fact, my heart was racing and I was having trouble concentrating. I knew I was dripping wet.

He tried to hide his surprise when he found my naked, freshly shaved genitals. With hardly a pause, he turned slightly to face me, slid two fingers right up inside of me and put his thumb right on my clitoris. It took less than a minute for me to orgasm – that’s how primed I was.

A couple across the room stared at us, knowing exactly what was going on. Even though I somehow managed to stay silent, I stiffened and shook as my climax took firm hold of my body. I collapsed back on the banquette, totally drained for the moment as Marc, with his two fingers still inside of me, leaned over and gave me a deep kiss.

Realizing that what had happened had possibly been observed, I opened my eyes and looked around. Nobody but that one couple (probably in their fifties) had seen it, thank God. The man looked a bit surprised, but the woman smiled knowingly and lifted her wine glass in a silent salute. I blushed furiously which made Marc laugh.

I playfully slapped his arm, but then leaned over and whispered in his ear, “You are a devil, and I’m going to make you pay for that.” Then I stuck my tongue in his ear for a moment -- something I knew really turned his crank. With a quick rub of his cock through his slacks, I sat back and tried to catch my breath. It was a dangerous game we were playing.

Since we were finished eating, he quickly paid the bill and we left the restaurant, laughing and giddy.

The trip back to Marc’s apartment was one long tease. I asked if I could drive his sporty little Alfa Romeo. (you know how I love fast cars), mostly because I wanted to tease him. He deserved it for what he had done to me in the restaurant. I’d never thought he’d go that far, or I wouldn’t have let him start. Once he took possession of my pussy, there was no way I could summon the will to ask him to stop.

I’d purposely left my jacket unbuttoned, knowing that my dress would ride up my thighs as I used both feet to drive. I made no attempt to protect my modesty. Within about a half dozen blocks, the top of my thighs were visible and if Marc leaned forward, he would be able to see all the way to the top. It was having the desired effect, I noted, when I stole a quick glance at the tent in his slacks. When he finally reached over, I slapped his hand away.

“Be good! I need to concentrate,” I told him.

A few more lights and my skirt had slipped all the way up, exposing my sex. I could feel myself beginning to drip and the aroma of a woman in heat filled the small car.

“You are driving me crazy,” Marc groaned. “Can’t you drive faster?”

“What and risk getting pulled over? That would slow us up even more!”

We stopped at a light. He reached over to touch me again. This time I didn’t slap his hand away. Two of his fingers slipped inside me easily, and it was all I could do to concentrate on watching the light. As soon as it changed, I removed his hand and told him to behave.

This started a little game. Every time we hit a light, I’d let him diddle me and I’d reach over and rub his erection through his slacks. By the time we neared his apartment, both of us were nearly frantic. All the way up the stairs, I swayed my rear end and since I was wearing my shorter leather jacket (and freezing because of it!), Marc was getting a very nice view. Near the top, he couldn’t contain himself and I got a thorough goosing, which only ramped up our arousal as a finger slid inside me for a moment. When I turned around, Marc had the finger in his mouth.

“I could not wait to taste my dessert,” he said with a grin.

Inside the apartment, we were quickly at each other with our clothes falling around us like rain. Marc’s cock was as hard as I’d ever seen it. Feeling really naughty, I rose onto my tiptoes, trapping it in the warmth between my legs as we held each other tightly. Prompted by one of his hands on my bum, I slid back and forth a bit, hoping it felt as good for him as it did for me.

“Oh, Jennifer, I have wanted you so badly all week,” he whispered in my ear, before trailing kisses down the side of my neck.

I’d never wanted anything as much as I wanted to feel Marc’s cock inside of me.

“What about exchanging our gifts?” I groaned as his hot kisses continued.

Marc’s answer was to lean back and lift me completely off the ground. I wrapped my legs around his waist and in so doing his erection slide right up into me, buried to the hilt.

I longed for him to back me up against the wall and take me hard, but he had other ideas. His hands on my ass keeping him firmly embedded in me, he walked down the hall to his bedroom. At his bed, he eased me down and told me to turn around with my head hanging off the bed.

Lying like that with him standing over me, my eyes were filled by the sight of his glorious erection. He moved slightly and the tip was against my lips. Knowing what he desired, I opened my mouth and he slid forward. We’d never done it like this before, although I had sucked him off a number of times by then. His hands became busy tweaking and pulling at my nipples and that felt very good.

Marc began to move his hips, and it was an erotic rush to feel him fucking my mouth.

“Just relax, my beautiful Jen (said with a French accent, my name sounded far more sexy), and let this happen.”

I instantly knew what he wanted when he pushed a little deeper, the end of his penis hitting the extreme back of my mouth. I wasn’t sure he could go deeper without me gagging, but I was willing to try. More than anything, I wanted to please him and he obviously desired me to take all of him.

I’d never tried to deep throat anyone, so I concentrated on staying relaxed and timing my breathing with his slow thrusts. Obviously, Marc had done this before with someone. In this position, the line from my mouth into my throat was straight, which made it a lot easier. I put my hands on the side of his legs to guide him in just the right way, and we easily fell into a perfect rhythm.

Deeper and deeper I took him. My gag reflex made me stop a few times to regain control, but it was getting easier. I was ready for the final plunge. Marc had lost interest in my breasts as he stood there, letting me guide him. That didn’t stop him telling me how much he was enjoying my ministrations. To add an extra bit of spice, I threw my legs open so he could see my ripe and ready pussy.

With the prompting of my hands on his legs, I took all of Marc’s erection, sliding it surprisingly easily into my throat. Then I got an idea. I took him all the way out.

“Was that too much, my love?” he asked.

“No. Let me turn over.”

His bed, which I always thought a bit on the high side, was perfect for this (and I bet, obviously the reason Marc had it set up like this.

I flipped over onto my stomach and pulled him close again. My throat was still straight, making it easy to take him, but now my tongue was underneath his erection rather than on the top. I tightened my lips into an “O” and making my tongue wide and flat, I used it to caress and flick the underside of his cock as I pulled him into my mouth. I received a very satisfying gasp from my lover.

(And you loved this, too, when I did it to you the very next night at my parents’ place, didn’t you, Robert? See how much enjoyment you’ve been getting because of my time with Marc?)

By this time, Marc was pretty close. He especially liked the fact that I was now sliding his cock nearly out of my mouth so I could really flick the sensitive underside of it with the tip of my tongue as it passed over. If I took a really deep breath, I could let him thrust for a good amount of time, so I started speeding up. Every so often I’d let him slip all the way out so I could breathe and then we’d do it again. A side benefit is that he would also calm down slightly, allowing him to go longer than he would have otherwise.

When he began to stiffen and swell up even more, I knew it was decision time. Part of me really wanted him to finish, but I also felt like he needed a bit of payback for earlier at the restaurant. I also knew enough by then that, while the ultimate in frustration, it would make his inevitable finish all that much more satisfying for him.

So I pushed Marc out of my mouth and rolled over onto my back again, before getting off the bed.

“Why did you stop? I was about to finish!”

I flashed my sexiest smile, and said in English, “Sor-ry. I have to pee.”

The expression on Marc’s face was priceless, not being able to decide whether to be exasperated by what I’d done to him or willing to acknowledge that he’d been had. I did have a tough time not sliding him back into my mouth again, his rampant cock looked so delicious.

I padded into the bathroom, a nice little butt wiggle added as I moved, did my thing and rejoined him.

Marc was lying in the middle of the bed, eyes shut, his fist stroking his erection. I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching. God, he knew how to turn my crank!

When he noticed me, he said, “Come over here. I want you to do something.”

“What?”

“Sit on my face and make yourself orgasm.”

“How?”

In answer, Marc threw the pillows off the bed. “Come over here.”

He had me straddle his head, facing the headboard. I soon found out why. Holding the ornate wrought iron made it easier to move over my lover.

“Aren’t you worried about me suffocating you?” I asked before lowering myself over his mouth.

“I want you to take your pleasure on my face. Just do what feels good. I will be fine.”

I relaxed down gingerly nonetheless. This was so naughty. The feel of his soft tongue on my most sensitive places was indescribable, but I was totally in control: how much pressure to use, where, and how fast. All Marc had to do was lay there and let me do exactly what gave me the most pleasure.

Needless to say, my arousal shot right through the roof in short order. As my clitoris swelled and got harder, I found it was lovely to push it against Marc’s nose, sometimes driving myself right over it, to the delight of my little love bud.

Marc’s strong hands were gripping my ass as he lapped up my juices which were flowing copiously, judging from the noises down between my legs.

It wouldn’t be long now. I tried to back off to make it last longer, but goddamn it, what we were doing just felt so damn good, I couldn’t.

My second orgasm of the night hit me with the force of a freight train. My body stiffened and shook as Marc held my ass tightly and my hands gripped the wrought iron. I threw my head back and just howled my delight. As the delicious tremors died away, Marc gently licked me with his tongue flat and soft until I had to eventually roll off. In a moment I wiggled myself against Marc, throwing my left leg over his. Marc snaked his hand under my neck and pulled me more tightly against him.

“That was amazing,” I sighed.

“You are so sexy I can barely stand it,” he answered. “Tell me when you feel ready to continue.”

Surprisingly, I was ready to continue right then. By way of answering, I wrapped my hand around his still-rampant cock. He groaned as I stroked and pulled on it the way he most liked.

“Would you like to try something else new?” he asked, kissing my forehead.

“I’ll do anything you want, lover.”

We began kissing, hot, wanting ones. I sucked on Marc’s tongue and was rewarded by a throb from his cock.

After a few minutes, he got off the bed and went to his dresser. Out came two silk neckties, so I thought I knew what his game was. I felt a welcome spark between my legs.

“Roll onto your tummy.”

This was new. I did as he asked. In short order I was lying in the middle of the bed, my wrists secured tightly to the bottom bar of the headboard, arms extended. Two pillows were slid under my hips, elevating my rear end.

I spread my legs as he got onto the bed. Marc surprised me again when he didn’t immediately bury his length inside me (as I hoped he would). The helpless feeling of being bound and exposed the way I was made me incredibly horny. Minutes after that mighty orgasm, I was desperate for more.

Instead of cock, I got my lover’s gentle fingers. He slid two of them into me, palm facing down, found my g-spot and began massaging it deliciously.

“Oh my God! That feels so amazing,” I said with a groan. “How do you know how to do all this stuff?”

“You inspire me, my beautiful girl. And you are such a willing participant.”

“How can I resist when everything you do turns me inside out?”

I went silent as I concentrated on what Marc’s fingers were making me feel. Marc switched hands, which was somewhat jarring. A few moments later, I knew why when I felt him rubbing my (there’s no other way to say this politely) asshole.

(This is something I never told you before, Robby, and I’m sorry about that. I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. I’ve made it clear from the beginning that I felt this spot on my body was off limits and you’ve honoured that. That night, though, Marc had me so turned on — and surprised — that I didn’t stop him. I’ve guiltily thought about it a lot since then. I guess the best I can say is that, given the right situation, something like that can feel really good. And I promise, dear husband, to tell you the next time it happens. That December night I was feeling so depraved and ready, things just happened and I had little control over them.)

I can’t describe what the next few minutes felt like. It’s as if my body was on sensory overload and all I could do was lay there and revel in what Marc was doing to me. His finger, wet with my own juices felt amazing where he was rubbing and those magic fingers massaging my G-spot were rapidly driving me to yet another orgasm.

“I want you inside me, Marc. Don’t make me wait!”

“Not yet, my dove. Not yet.”

I couldn’t keep my hips still. Like a bitch in heat, I tilted my hips to expose myself completely to the male between my legs.

“Please, Marc, stick it in.”

Not his usual practice, he drove me upward relentlessly. I was gasping and groaning, rotating my hips, helpless to do anything else because my hands were stretched above my head and bound tightly to the headboard. It suddenly flashed through my mind that the way I was tied, Marc could bring in anyone and I would be powerless to stop them from taking me. Surprisingly, I realized I would welcome that.

“Marc! Dear God! Take me.”

His fingers were withdrawn and he drove into me so hard it took my breath away. I let out a huge, huge moan. His cock was so far up me, I couldn’t believe it.

Marc took me with long, very hard strokes alternating with periods where he would stop, pressed tightly against me, sort of bouncing lightly into me. The second time he did that, I felt a finger against my bum hole, gently massaging it.

“Marc, don’t.”

“Why? Doesn’t it feel good?”

“I don’t like anyone touching me there.”

“Why?”

“It’s dirty.”

“It looks perfectly clean to me,” he joked.

“That’s not what I meant.”

His finger, moistened by my lubrication continued to massage the forbidden place.

“What good is it, having such a beautiful woman restrained as you are if I cannot take advantage of her?”

“Please…Marc. Don’t.”

But the thing was, it did feel good. Maybe it was just the out of control mood I was in, but I really didn’t want him to stop.

He began thrusting again, pressing his thumb against my back door (I could feel his other fingers on the top of my butt. Marc’s left hand was on my waist, helping him to push harder into me. I wished I could grab the headboard so that I could resist better, but he’d tied me in such a way that the bottom bar was above my wrists. All I could do was lie there and take his assault.

While we fucked — and that’s what this was, after all; there was nothing tender about it — he told me how much he enjoyed having me in his life, how amazing I was in bed and out, and (surprisingly) how he’d been thinking of me more and more when we were apart.

“I love the way you look, the way you move, my darling Jenn. You are a very beautiful and amazingly sexual woman. Any man you take into your bed is a lucky one indeed.”

“I love everything you do to me, Marc. You are such an amazing lover -- and friend. I’m so glad we’re able to do this.”

I guess I was speaking from the heart. That all just slipped out, and it startled me. But, Robby, it did feel so right at that point. Yes, I was living in a dreamworld. This wasn’t reality. I couldn’t be with two men and expect it to be anything but a disaster. Even though I could feel the worry growing, what we were doing at that moment forced it all into the background. All I wanted to do was cum and feel him cumming deep inside me. That drove everything else out of my head.

Marc’s thumb was getting more active at my back door, pressing but not entering. Between feeling his strong thrusts, being completely helpless, I was on another plane of lust and arousal.

“I’m getting so close, dear Marc. Are you? I want to feel you finish inside me. I want to finish together.”

He groaned out, “I am getting close, my love.”

I tried to push back, driving him deeper, and I also tightened my inner muscles. We were both working hard, searching for release.

I was beyond words, just moaning and groaning. When I was about to let go, he did something that shocked the hell out of me. I was trying to rotate my hips higher so he’d go even deeper when he slid his thumb completely into my rear end.

Words cannot describe the force of the orgasm that ripped through my body. I saw stars. Hell, I saw whole galaxies. Marc kept thrusting right through it, his thumb all the way up my butt, his free hand on my waist, holding me steady as I writhed beneath him. He told me afterwards that I let out this huge low moan and clamped so tightly around his cock that he had trouble moving. I didn’t even notice that he was cumming, too. He told me my orgasm lasted a good thirty seconds.

“I have never seen anything that erotic,” he told me late that night on the drive back to my apartment (after screwing two more times). “Christ! It is making me hard again just thinking about it.”

It was certainly the best orgasm I’d ever experienced — and was the first of many like it.

Before we separated for the holidays, I gave Marc a blow job in his car right in front of my apartment building. It was a stupid risk, but I just had to do it — and he didn’t seem to mind.

Not twenty-four hours later, I was doing the same thing to you, dear husband.

[Brigida]

This is very sweet.

[Righteous]

Revisiting my wife's admittedly erotic account of her time with Marc has opened up a few doors for us. At my encouragement, I asked her to expand the description more fully. When she first did them up ten years ago this month, it was her way of telling what had happened and why. Descriptions of what she and Marc got up to were there for sure, but there was a lot more about her inner dialogue, what she was going through and how she dealt with it. Needless to say, I got off on the descriptive stuff more than she did. To be honest, I always thought she was embarrassed by what and how much she did with Marc, and also she was unsure of how I would react to the unvarnished truth.

I did have to talk her into letting me share her reminiscences on this forum, but I thought it might prove good for us. Even after ten years, there was still a lot to say to each other. Yes, on one level, it was very hard for me to finally know for sure what had happened. For Jennifer, it was good therapy for her to finally come clean, for us to discuss it and then move on. There was never a moment where we knew we couldn't move past this. I was astonished how much Marc had opened her eyes to the possibilities of a really active sexual life, and yes, she did eventually pass on to me everything she learned from him. Really, I do owe Marc a lot and have toyed with the idea of finding him so that I can thank him.

Sorry there's been such a long gap between chapters, but we've both been busy, and I asked Jennifer to add some more of "the good stuff" to her accounts. She has responded in spades, but as always with her, it has to be perfect before she'll let anyone see it.

Truth be told, we've also both been sort of let down about the lack of comments. I guess people here don't comment as much in this particular part of the forum. Perhaps we should have posted this on the hotwives section or something.

A real side benefit of all this is that Jenn is absolutely supercharged in bed these days. I've always suspected she is turned on much more than she'll admit when she thinks of her time with Marc.

Anyway, cheers! We'll post something soon for those who are interested.

[Righteous]

Chapter 7

To say the least, that Christmas holiday was frustrating and frightening. I came so close to confessing everything to you, Robby, but I knew that it would have to be done with plenty of time to talk it through — and privacy, something that was in very short supply around my parents’ place, as you well know.

Being away from Marc gave me perspective that I’d been lacking. I realized how far I’d drifted away from you, for instance. Being around you 24/7 also made me realize why I’d fallen in love with you in the first place. Now that I’d been so intimate with another man, I also came to see how much better for me you are than Marc could ever hope to be. (I know how two-faced that sounds in so many ways, believe me.) I haven’t hit much on his weak points in my written “confession” to you, but he did have several. I instinctively knew that if I were to break with you to go with him that I would wind up really unhappy in the end. Marc and I had great sexual chemistry, and he was helping quite a lot with polishing my approach to the violin. But that was it. On most other things, he infuriated me easily. Politically, we were oil and water, for instance. I could go on about this, but I see no need. There was a connection between us, yes, but it was about the great sex. It was very heady to have such an accomplished, older male so interested in me. And to be honest, he was teaching me a lot about the things a man and a woman can do together.

I wanted so much to reconnect with you, Robby, but that really didn’t happen. The holidays at my house are never conducive to “private time”. First of all there’s the fact that my old bedroom is right next to my parents’. Coupled with the fact that the bed squeaks terribly, not much screamingly great sex was going to happen. With that in mind, I wanted so much to share some of what I’d learned in Marc’s arms — but without raising your suspicions. Remember I kept saying how horny I was and how much I’d missed you? Both things were true, my love, but I was horny because of Marc. Everything that had happened since the term had started continually scrolled through my head and kept me permanently wet.

Because we had to be quiet, I had to get creative, so I made sure you went to sleep every night with a smile on your face. (It certainly didn’t help that I had my period.) So even if we couldn’t make love, we could do other things — and I made sure we did. My first goal under the topic of Improving Our Sex Life was to get you to slow down and tease me the way Marc did. That’s why I made up that story about playing with myself on and off for a whole Sunday before I allowed myself to cum. Remember? I told you how intense it made that final release and then showed you, using my hands and mouth how much better the intensity level was when one took one’s time. Being the smart man you are, you “got it” pretty quickly.

Several frustrating days later when my parents finally did give us those few hours alone, the sex was fantastic, wasn’t it? Mmmmm… I remember so clearly how excited you got as I rode you, telling you about the erotic dream I’d had the week before. You know now that it wasn’t a dream, but the actual time where Marc had first tied me to his bed. I wanted you to get the idea that a little restraint was something that turned me on, didn’t it? The only problem was you got too excited and came quickly. This was something we’d have to work on. Marc could go for hours if he wanted to. I guess I’d have to ask him how he did that.

Anyway, our holiday visit ended and you had to go back home to work. My parents thought I was going to stay on another week since school didn’t start back up until after New Years. I did stay an extra couple of days, but then made up a story about getting a last-minute gig. I’d spoken to Marc and he’d suggested something special for New Years Eve. I couldn’t be with you because your boss had sent you over to the UK, so why not? To be completely truthful, though, the holidays had left me sexually frustrated, and within 12 hours of you leaving, I wanted to get laid so bad, I could taste it. With no toys to play with and only my hand, I knew if I stayed home for a week, with my mom fussing around the house all day, I’d go completely stir-crazy.

So I got my dad to drive me back to Montreal on the 28th. There was an ulterior motive. I’d called up Marc and he said if I came back in time, he had a special surprise for me. Little did I know…

***

Marc and I pulled up at his friends’ ski chalet in the Laurentians after a very long drive north. Seems as if a lot of people had the same sort of weekend plans we did. To say the least, I was extremely nervous about this whole thing. I hoped you swallowed my story about being invited to a New Years weekend at some married friends’ chalet, but I hoped things would all go well. That’s one of the big downsides about doing what I was doing. There was always the chance something would slip and you’d find out what I was doing. I’ve heard there are people who get a rush out of taking risks like that, but I’m definitely not one of them. By telling you I was staying with a married couple, if you called and Marc answered, I’d at least be covered. Fortunately, I called you to wish you a Happy New Year, so there were no problems. But it was constantly in the back of my mind. What if you’d called when Marc and I were in the middle of making love?

With New Years Eve being on Saturday, he decided we should leave Montreal late on Friday afternoon, enjoy a leisurely evening, do some snowshoeing or sightseeing on Saturday, have a nice meal at a restaurant, and leave late Sunday afternoon or possibly even Monday morning.

It was snowing heavily during the drive and the holiday traffic made it extra slow. Marc had some nice music playing on the radio and we listened, discussing various aspects of it. I was incredibly horny. Marc needed to pay attention to the road, but his hand was often on my knee or thigh. When traffic stopped, he’d kiss me, and maybe his hand would brush farther up my legs. I spread them to give him more access.

I’d toyed with wearing a dress or skirt, but it really was too cold, so I was wearing Marc’s favourite jeans and those new brown boots you’d given me for Christmas. On top, I had the bulky black and green sweater you like – and of course, no bra. (Marc found that out pretty quickly!)

It turned me on to no end to see his slacks tent up as we drove. I love to turn men on, I’ve realized, make their penises hard. Marc asked if I’d take him out because I was driving him insane, but I decided a car accident while in that state was a definite possibility considering the snow and traffic, so I backed off. He wasn’t too happy, but I told him I’d make it up to him later.

By the time we finally arrived at the chalet, we were both famished and the place was rather chilly. I’d brought some paté, cheese, a baguette, fruit, and a bottle of wine so I got that ready in the kitchen while Marc turned up the heat and lit a fire.

The stone fireplace dominated the living room. A lovely, long chesterfield right was parked right in front of it. On the floor between was a colorful carpet. From some stuff he’d alluded to in the car, I got the feeling Marc had done something of a sexual nature with this couple at one time. He certainly knew what the wife’s body looked like and he mentioned this piece of carpet in connection with her.

When I came out with the food, Marc was just stepping back from the fire he’d laid and it was already catching well. There was a small low table nearby, so he pulled it in front of the chesterfield and I put the tray down. He opened the wine (red), and sitting side by side, we toasted our weekend together.

“Could I ask you something, ma chère?”

“What?”

“Would you take off your clothes for me? I want to see you naked in the firelight.”

“Right now?”

He reached out and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. “Of course.”

“But it’s still freezing in here!”

“It will warm up shortly. And besides, it will make your delightful nipples stand at attention for me.”

I have to admit it did feel incredibly sexy to stand in front of Marc — close to the fire to warm my buns at least — and slowly strip for him. All the while he stared intently as if savoring the skin I was slowly revealing to him. (And my nipples were erect and hard, but that wasn’t just due to the temperature.)

“May I leave on my socks?” I asked when that was all that remained.

He looked down at the short white ones I’d put on earlier so my legs wouldn’t sweat inside my new boots. “You look delightful in just your socks.”

The upholstery on the chesterfield was a brown velour and as I sat down again, I could feel I was already quite wet. There would be a stain if things transpired the way I thought they would. I’d have to remember to clean it.

Over the next half hour we chatted and ate, watching the fire and enjoying its crackles. Outside the snow kept falling. It was really lovely, but he made absolutely no move on me — although his eyes seldom left my body. I guessed this was another of his big teases — for both of us.

I wanted to limit myself to one glass of wine so my senses would remain clear, but Marc had other ideas. When I returned from a (freezing) trip to the powder room, my glass was full again. His eyes were boring holes into me, and on both the outbound and the inbound trip, I put the sway into my walk that I knew he liked. His pants were tented a bit as I sat down again, curling my legs underneath me.

“You look the most beautiful I have ever seen you tonight, Jen. I have so much missed your smile and laughter and burying myself in the warmth of your body. Did you miss me even a little when you were off with your handsome husband?”

“Of course.”

(I didn’t like talking about you, Robby, with Marc. Maybe I was trying to compartmentalize what I was doing since fall, but it always made me uneasy. Time to change the subject.)

“Will you make love to me in front of the fire tonight?” I asked.

“Tonight? No.”

I pouted and he laughed. “I have something else in mind,” he answered, handing me my wine glass. “You have more wine.”

“I really don’t want any more. It makes me too fuzzy.”

“Nonsense. Besides, we still have some of this lovely food left.”

I watched as he threw another couple of logs on the fire. The room was nice and toasty now, so I threw caution to the wind and began sipping my wine. I’d certainly have a buzz on by the time it was empty.

When that happened, Marc pulled me close to him, his arm around my shoulders. Turning my face up, I let him kiss me and it was long and slow and quite wonderful. When it finally ended, I glanced down and his slacks were definitely tented, and there was a wet spot. Was he not wearing any underwear?

He buried his face in my hair. “Oh, Jen, I adore everything about you. I want to do something special with you tonight. This is, after all, the first night we have ever spent together.” His hand drifted down to my right breast and cupped it. “Will you do something else for me?”

His thumb and index finger began rolling my nipple, sending lovely little shocks down to my genitals. “Mmmm…what?”

He kissed my neck. “Would you lie on the floor and pleasure yourself while I watch?”

“You’d really like that?”

“Oh yes. I would love it.”

“I’ve never done anything like that before — for anyone.”

“Be brave, my dove.”

I shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

Again that stare. “It is.”

To be truthful, the idea of having him completely dressed, sipping his wine while I diddled myself seemed like a delightfully naughty thing to do. All I needed was “Bolero” playing on the stereo (instead of the Vivaldi that was) and I could have been in a porno movie.

I’ve thought about this particular night’s experiences a lot, and I’ve come to realize much of what happened was all about the power I had over Marc and he had over me. I got very turned on performing sexually for him, turning him on as much as I could. I enjoyed behaving like this. It felt so wanton and empowering at the same time. I also wanted always to please him which is why he could talk me into things that I might not normally be willing to do — and that explains in spades what we got up to that night, and the whole weekend, truth be told.

As I lay on the carpet in front of him, I began touching myself, almost as he would. Knowing he liked the big tease, I stayed away from my “naughty bits” as long as I could, but when I finally touched my very erect nipples, I couldn’t restrain my gasp. Marc, for his part, was encouraging me, telling me how beautiful and sexy I was and how much I turned him on. His slacks gave me good evidence of that.

I begged him to remove his clothes and join me, but in a way I really didn’t want that. The performance for a fully-dressed man was a huge turn-on. That night helped me understand why women strip. It is a very heady experience to turn a male on without touching him in any way.

When I finally did touch my intimate place, I was shocked to feel how wet I was and how hard my clitoris had become. I forced myself to go slowly, and you may not believe it, but I actually sucked on my wet fingers. That caused my lover to gasp, so I did it several more times between some light rubbing.

“Do not let yourself finish,” Marc told me.

“But I’m so very close.”

“Then come with me to the bedroom. It is time.”

“For what?”

“You’ll see.”

Five minutes later, Marc had me fastened to the bed and was taking off his clothes. The king size bed was waist high, and he’d had me bend over it on one side. Then from underneath the opposite side, he pulled two long nylon straps. At their ends were sewn smaller straps with velcro. He had me extend my arms over my head and fastened the bands snugly around my wrists (I’d already told him I enjoyed this sort of snugness very much when we fooled around with bondage), then he knelt and pulled them tight (but not too, thank the lord) around the bed frame. The result was I was stretched out over the bed.

Marc then surprised me by going to the closet, and coming back with a bar maybe 30 inches long. It had two more velcro straps attached at either end.

“Spread your legs wider, my dove,” he said.

I did as he asked and he fastened the straps around my ankles. I was now completely open and helpless to anything he wanted to do to me. Not that many months ago, I would have completely freaked out by this sort of thing, but it felt indescribably sexy to be sort of “on display and helpless” at the same time. I actually asked Marc to hurry when he began to remove his clothes.

Stepping close against me, I could feel his erection pressing against my rear end. It was obvious he was very hard. I tried to look back at him, but it was difficult because of the way he had me stretched out. The bar keeping my legs open made me feel very vulnerable.

He started at my shoulders, touching and kneading my muscles. His hands felt wonderful as they floated over my skin. The wine had made me feel a bit fuzzy, but it was more like a warm cocoon around my brain. I was almost purring his ministrations felt so fine.

“Mmmm… That feels so good.”

“I love touching you.”

“I love having you touch me.”

Over the next several minutes, his hands worked their way lower. I’d told him how I like light sweeps of the backs of his hands, fingernails lightly floating over my skin, and he was doing it perfectly. Now I was purring.

“Oh, Marc, I want you so much. Don’t make me wait tonight. Please!”

“As I want you.” To prove his ardor, I felt his erection push against me.

“Won’t you take me now?

“Soon, my beautiful Jen. Very soon.”

Once he reached my buttocks, he began kneading them with firm hands. God! I was so turned on. My pussy was on fire for him and I could actually feel my juices running down my legs. Now I was moaning, begging him to take me. All I could think about was his hard cock sliding between my legs and entering me. I flexed my back as much as I could, exposing my most intimate parts to him, hoping he’d take the hint.

“Marc, please!”

In response, he stepped forward and he did slide his erection between my legs, holding himself down (his penis, when really hard, rises up at about a 45° angle). It felt so incredible as he slid his length down my channel. Flexed the way I was, he was rubbing across my clitoris deliciously, causing my body to jump and shake each time. I was so ready.

“How close are you?” he asked after a few moments of this.

“Very,” I responded with a groan. “Take me now.”

Instead of sliding himself into my depths, I got another question.

“Are you secure? You can’t move? Do you feel completely helpless?”

I moved a bit experimentally. My arms were certainly stretched out, not uncomfortably so, and the straps around my wrists were very snug. Shuffling my feet made me acutely aware that I was vulnerably open to any male standing between my parted legs. There was absolutely no way I could resist anything. It was a little frightening.

“Yes. I’m helpless.”

“Does that turn you on?”

“I don’t know. It scares me.”

“Would you like me to let you loose?”

Before I could answer, Marc again pushed his erection down between my legs again, not inserting himself (as I so desperately wanted him to do), but sliding along my channel again. This time though he bumped against my upraised rear end hard, pushing me forward a bit on the bed. My distended nipples, pressed as they were against the rough fabric of the bed’s coverlet, scraped forward a bit, causing me to gasp. My God! Was I so ready to be taken — hard.

“Marc…please. You’re being very unfair.”

“In what way?” he asked, all innocence.

“Teasing me like this. I want you inside me!”

“Doing what?”

“You know.”

He pulled back and I could feel the tip of his erection pushing lightly against the outside of my opening. Had my hands been free, I would have grabbed his hips and pulled him into me.

“Jen! I want you to say it.”

“What?”

“What you want me to do to you.”

“Make love to me?”

“What? All innocent with me on top of you in the missionary style, like the priests say we should do? Is that what you want?”

“Um, no…”

“Then tell me exactly what you do want.”

I answered softly in English. “I want you to fuck me. Take me hard.” I could hardly believe I was using these words — but I meant them.

“I could not hear you. What did you say?”

“Fuck me, goddammit! You’ve got me helpless, at your mercy. Do what I know you want to do!”

I felt his fingers where his erection had just been. I moaned and shook as he stuck one finger, then two and finally three deep inside me. He was not gentle, but it felt amazing. After less than a minute of that, I was panting again, ready for the real thing.

“Marc! This isn’t funny anymore. Do it!

He ignored me, except to turn his hand over, palm down and I could feel two of his fingers rubbing that spot inside me. A minute or two of that and I was going to orgasm hard with or without him inside me. As usual, he gauged the height of my arousal very accurately — and withdrew his fingers.

“Marc…please. I beg you…”

“You want me to fuck you now?”

“Yessssssss.”

“But I want to do this.”

And with that, I felt something press against my anus. Once. Twice. And then with a very hard push, one of Marc’s lubricated fingers slid all the way up inside me.

My body went berserk. I writhed and pushed back as best I could against the palm of his hand. It was so dirty, what we were doing — but it felt frigging amazing.

He withdrew his finger, then I felt myself stretched wider as he pushed what must have been two fingers all the way in. I screamed in surprise and a little bit of pain. He didn’t move them for a moment, but then I could feel the tips fluttering deep inside me, rubbing something.

I tried to remain calm. Tried to relax. My rectum burned with the intrusion.

“Are you okay?” Marc asked, sounding concerned for the first time.

I thought about that. “I guess I’m all right.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I don’t know…”

His fingers pulled out a bit then moved forward, but it was gentle. After a few repeats, I was surprised how good it was beginning to feel. With his other hand down between us, he massaged the channel between my legs, making sure that my clit got its share of attention. With both hands sawing back and forth, I was soon again shaking and moaning as I felt an orgasm approaching fast.

Then he stopped again.

“I want to ask something of you, my beautiful Jen. Will you give yourself completely to me tonight?”

“What do you mean?” I whispered, but I think I knew where this was going.

“You have told me you are still a virgin in one place. I would like you to give me that.”

“You mean…?

“Yes.”

I felt him press against me again and knew it wasn’t his finger.

“It will hurt.”

“I will not lie. Yes, it will hurt a bit, but only for a short while. You have already told me that you like my finger inside you when you reach your crisis.”

“But your…your penis is so much bigger.”

“If you stay relaxed and do not panic, I believe you will like it. Besides, you cannot get away if I insist, can you?”

His tone was bantering, but he might be deadly serious. He could do whatever he wanted. I could not stop him, even by screaming. No one would hear me.

I was suddenly truly scared. What had I allowed him do?

“Marc…please…”

One of his hands lightly caressed my lower back and buttocks, but his erection remained pressed against my anus, pushing more insistently now.

I was very unsure — but still on fire, maybe even more than before. I was at the edge of a very high cliff, and it was so tempting to throw caution to the wind and just jump off. I never for a moment thought I’d ever seriously consider trying something like this, but I was now. I wanted release so much, but I also wanted to please my lover. He was right: at certain times I had enjoyed his finger inside me like that. My orgasms had been through the roof each time.

“You’ll stop if I ask, won’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Marc! I’m not kidding. Promise me you’ll stop.”

“Yes, I promise you that, darling Jen. It will also be no good for me if I know you are not enjoying what I am doing. I will also go very, very slowly and gently, until you tell me otherwise. You must be brave, though, little one. I have some lubrication to help with this.”

(How did he know it was in that drawer of the bedside table? Obviously, there was more than I knew about between Marc and the couple who owned this place.)

While I couldn’t see, I knew what he was doing behind me. The lubrication stuff when he dabbed some on my anus was cold and made me jump — as much as I could being tied down the way I was.

Then he was back with his erection. He massaged my back and buttocks gently with both hands as he began pressing forward, talking to me gently, telling me what a wonderfully hot lover I was. He began a sort of bouncing gentle pushing at me. My poor little anus was resisting, then all of a sudden gave up the fight and about five feet of penis slid inside me. In reality, it was probably only an inch or two, but it felt enormous.

Marc didn’t push any farther, but continued to rub and lightly scratch my back. Inside my head, I was telling myself over and over to just relax. It only took a minute for that large foreign body to start feeling pretty normal back there.

“Are you ready for more?”

“I think so…”

Over the next several minutes, Marc very gently eased more of his erection into me. It burned a bit, but I figured that was just from being stretched so much for the first time. The friction was pretty major even with the thick lubricant. He suddenly pulled out and I felt more of the gel gently rubbed in and around my anus. Then he was back. This time he slid into me easily and I gasped as I felt his pubic hairs tickling my backside.

“I am in all of the way, Jen. Was it so bad?”

“Not really. But does it feel good for you, Marc? That’s why I’m doing this.”

“Not just a little for yourself?”

“I guess…only to see if I could do it.”

“And you did.”

“Yes.”

“Are you ready to see what it feels like to be made love to this way?”

“As long as you’re gentle and stop immediately if I tell you to.”

“But you are so helpless. I don’t really have to.”

He certainly knew how to press my buttons. It was shocking to me that I was willing to be so submissive to him, so much under his control, but god damn it, that small statement set my heart immediately pounding.

“You will stop, though?” I said as he withdrew and then steadily pushed forward more quickly, bouncing against my rear end rather hard and pushing me forward into the bed. “Marc?”

He didn’t answer, just kept moving in and out, farther and farther and harder and harder. It did continue to burn a bit for awhile, but soon even that disappeared.

I concentrated on experiencing what being taken anally actually felt like. The first time I’d heard about it back when I was around fifteen—breathlessly from my best friend who’d found one of her older brother’s porno books—I’d been completely grossed out. I’d had an enema once when I was younger and I remembered it none to fondly. I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to do something so disgusting.

(You’d asked me about it twice about doing something like this, I believe, Robby, and both times I'd shut that talk down immediately. Yet here I was with another man and he was pretty vigorous fucking me in that spot, and it was feeling rather good. It should have been yours to take since you didn't get my cherry, but there it is. It's probably the thing I regret the most.)

“You are so tight, my Jen, and I am getting close.”

“Are you going to finish in there?”

He was holding my hips and thrust a few more times, I guess thinking about what he wanted to do. Then, he was gone. I felt so empty and somewhat confused.

“Why are you stopping?”

“I would like to finish, but I am being incredibly selfish, too. There will be other times.”

He stepped out of the room and I heard water running in the bathroom next door. Marc came back quickly and a warm washcloth gently cleaned me up.

Even though I was stretched out over the bed and my feet were held spread apart by the bar between them, I was not uncomfortable. The bed was the perfect height for something like this, and I got the feeling that’s why it was so high off the ground.

Marc’s erection was back again, but this time after a couple of pushes along my channel (to get it moist), I felt him slide into my vagina in one smooth go. Christ! It felt good!

We fucked for a solid ten minutes (I could see the clock), telling each other how good it felt and how much we enjoyed doing this. From this angle, Marc’s cock hit just the right places inside me and I could feel an incredible pressure building in my groin area. After my frustrating holiday and all his teasing, I was ready for a fantastic orgasm.

Being held down and helpless was now a huge turn-on. Marc began saying that he could bring in other men to take me and I would be powerless to stop it. I was so turned on, that I almost wished it were true. The thought certainly heightened my arousal. I turned my ass up so that he could go as deeply as possible and he took that as an invitation to really start pounding into me.

We were both grunting and gasping now and I could feel sweat trickling down my the centre of my back. Pushed against the rough fabric of the bedspread, the stimulation to my nipples felt delicious.

“I am oh so close, my love,” I moaned, “so close. Take me as hard as you want. Give it to me!”

(A that time, it was not like me to talk this way as you know, but that’s how out of control I was.)

Marc was holding my hips tightly now as his body bounced off my rear end. I squeezed inside of me as hard as I could and was rewarded by feeling his erection swell even more. It was like a hot poker going in and out.

My body began to shake uncontrollably and each thrust forced a groan from way down deep. Marc was silent, working hard. Then it happened. I felt my vagina clench and I erupted, literally. Fluid was flowing down my legs and my whole body writhed uncontrollably. Marc held himself tightly against me, hands pulling my hips back as he groaned loudly. I felt his penis pulsing wildly deep inside.

Things became sort of fuzzy as sparks flashed behind my closed eyelids and I could feel this incredible warmth between my legs. Gradually, I began to come down from my sexual high as my body shook with pleasant little aftershocks. It took a moment to focus my eyes on the clock across the room. It had been more than two hours since Marc had asked me to take off my clothes and masturbate for him.

Marc eventually stopped pressing against me and pulled his penis out. A flood of liquid followed. I could hear splats as it landed on the carpet.

“I don’t know when I have ejaculated that much, he said, kneeling down to release my ankles, quickly following by releasing my wrists. I stood up stiffly.

The floor was a mess.

“You caused this,” I told him, “and as a gentleman, you should clean it up.”

He bowed comically. “As you wish, my lady. Shall I draw your bath?”

“No. A shower will do.”

I wobbled into the bathroom and a short time later was letting wonderful hot water stream down over my head and body.

I still couldn’t wrap my head around what I’d let Marc do. And amazingly, I’d liked it. I didn’t think I’d want to do it every day, but I had definitely enjoyed it.

The curtain slipped aside and Marc was suddenly in my arms as we kissed lustily, pulling our bodies tightly together. He had one arm around my shoulder and partially down my back. His other hand rested on the middle of my buttocks.

“You make me so happy,” he murmured into my ear. “I hope that you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

I pulled myself back from him, looking up into his face. “It was not what I was expecting, that’s for sure. And I don’t know if I can let you do it again this weekend. I’m a bit sore down there. But sometime when the mood is right, yeah, I’d be willing to do it again.”

We toweled each other off and returned to the bedroom. It was just past 9:00 but I was pretty zonked. Even so, if I went to sleep now, I’d probably wake up in the middle of the night. While Marc checked on the fire, I got into bed and laid on my side, facing the doorway, my mind wandering.

What was going on in my life was so foreign to who and what I thought was. If you’d asked me a year earlier if I would ever take a lover, cheat on my husband repeatedly (and with such gusto), and do some of the things I’d done—especially what I’d done just a few short minutes ago, I would have been certain that it would never happen. I knew how I’d started down this trail. It hadn’t all happened at once. There had been incremental little shifts, tiny at first, almost unnoticeable. My growing friendship with Marc (my adulation of him, actually), the joking and teasing and a bit of harmless flirting. Then that first kiss, followed by me pulling away, horrified at what I’d allowed to happen. Later on, calling him up when I returned for my last year of classes in Montreal. I hadn’t even acknowledged at the time that it might be dangerous. Had Marc set out to seduce me? Undoubtedly. When he’d let me drive his delightful little car, he’d jokingly call me his chaufferette (which was a play on words between female chauffeur and the French term for heater). Even though I’m not a native speaker, the nuance wasn’t lost on me.

It was lovely to have a friend, especially a male one when my husband and I saw so little of each other. (That is really true, isn’t it, Robby?) The night Marc and I first made love, I could have stopped it all, but obviously I didn’t want to—even though I did consider it. It had been an eyeopening experience like nothing else. I didn’t know that sex could be so consuming. Since that time I’d just moved forward, wanting more and more. But it was always with a mind to teach you all the things I was learning. You may find it perverse, Robby, but I was already contemplating how I might get you to take me anally since I’d warned you off from anything like that so strongly, but I was eager to share that with you.

Marc came back into the room and slipped in next to me. Our eyes met. He pulled me roughly to him. Our lips met as I threw my leg over his hip. Only a few minutes later and he was inside me again. We made love slowly and gently for a long time, lying on our sides. I didn’t finish and neither did he, but it was wonderful to hold each other close, kissing and touching as our bodies were joined completely. He filled me, and I had him buried deep.

We made love again somewhere in the depths of the night and this time I did finish—strongly. Marc encouraged me to scream out my satisfaction since no one was around to hear the noise and I did so lustily. It was very freeing, if that’s the right word. We didn’t even bother to clean up afterwards, just went back to sleep, him cuddled against me tightly.

“Good night, my beautiful Jen,” he said as he kissed my cheek gently. “I will dream of us tonight.”

I was too contented to think much about where this was going. Tomorrow was soon enough.

[jeremylynne]

Love it.
Thanks.
Reminds me of when Lynne and I went to university in different cities and she had her first other lover then.

[Righteous]

Love it.
Thanks.
Reminds me of when Lynne and I went to university in different cities and she had her first other lover then.

First, thanks for responding. There hasn't been much, and I'm sure there's much I could learn from people on this site. Jenn, too, for that matter. I'd love to share her with someone again. She came close a few times over the years, but this is a woman who can be incredibly disciplined and controlled. That's probably the most amazing thing to me: how Marc got her to just let go and let it happen. If you knew her family and her upbringing you would be incredibly amazed that she did what she did.

Anyway, that's what happened to Jenn and me, although I'd finished school and got a job in another city. She had graduated but wanted to do a couple more courses and spend another year with her teacher, so we were separated most of the time. I was also travelling a fair bit then so we had little time together. And if you've read from the beginning of her (very personal and forthright) accounts, you'll see how what transpired first began. My wife was basically lonely and Marc was there when I wasn't.

Her guilt over what happened really ate away at her. She really wanted to tell me almost from the beginning, but it was nearly impossible for many reasons. Top of the list was she feared I'd show her the door (silly girl -- as if I could EVER do that), and she's told me more recently that a good part of it was that she didn't want to stop. Marc was a very skilled lover and sent her place I never had. What eventually gave her away was that she wanted to always try these new things with me, stuff that it turned out she'd done with him. I did need a lot of schooling and I've often toyed with the idea of thanking Marc, because through Jennifer, he made me a much better lover.

Did she shock me? Yes. But once I got over the bit of hurt I felt (very quickly), I realized what a good thing it was. I doubt if Jenn would have ever opened up her sexuality if Marc hadn't happened into her life.

Did your wife's university affair have any effect on your love life in that sort of way? Once Jenn came clean and she could sexually be herself with me, our lovemaking improved dramatically. I LOVED the new her, and she was very forthright in what she wanted me to do to her. It was all because of her time in the bed of another man.

Rob

[bewareoflizzy]

Amazing stories. Amazing writing. Thanks to both of you for sharing.

[Fotodom]

I also appreciate the story and that you took the time to post all that. And due to your attention to formatting, it's Readable!!!

In a way, I was sorta the Marc to a lovely young woman. I taught her much, but that was only possible because of who She was; although a virgin when we met, over several years she became possibly the most sexually desirable woman I have ever been with.

[HowardRoarke]

Really glad it all worked out for you two, Robbie. I mean that. It's clear you're devoted to each other, and it's wonderful that you can share such uninhibited sexuality in your marriage.

That said, Marc just strikes me as the sort of manipulative toad that mothers have been warning their daughters about for generations. And I can't help hearing him speak in Pepe LePeuw's voice when I read what he says. "My dove," is just one small step away from "Thees small one...she eez playing zee hide and go seeking, yes?"

At best he seems to have been an opportunist of the lowest order. It almost seems as if everything he was doing FOR her was in service of his own selfish desires. Everything she has written about him seems calculated and self-serving.

I doubt he would take your gratitude in the proper way. More likely he'd seen it as an opportunity to tap that little redhead he seduced decades ago just one more time, since her hubby is "grateful."

I'd be likely bash a predator like that in the face first, THEN thank him for liberating my wife sexually.

YMMV-

HR

[Righteous]

Amazing stories. Amazing writing. Thanks to both of you for sharing.

I'm sharing but the (hot) words are all Jennifer's. She was telling me the story, but she also was discovering what I found hot and played to that, hence all the descriptions. Since she's been going over it again for others to read, some of the descriptions have gotten even hotter. I'm still finding out a few things about what really happened, and I get the feeling she's not revealed all yet.

I'll pass on your comments.

Rob

[Righteous]

Really glad it all worked out for you two, Robbie. I mean that. It's clear you're devoted to each other, and it's wonderful that you can share such uninhibited sexuality in your marriage.

That said, Marc just strikes me as the sort of manipulative toad that mothers have been warning their daughters about for generations. And I can't help hearing him speak in Pepe LePeuw's voice when I read what he says. "My dove," is just one small step away from "Thees small one...she eez playing zee hide and go seeking, yes?"

At best he seems to have been an opportunist of the lowest order. It almost seems as if everything he was doing FOR her was in service of his own selfish desires. Everything she has written about him seems calculated and self-serving.

I doubt he would take your gratitude in the proper way. More likely he'd seen it as an opportunity to tap that little redhead he seduced decades ago just one more time, since her hubby is "grateful."

I'd be likely bash a predator like that in the face first, THEN thank him for liberating my wife sexually.

YMMV-

HR

I actually met Marc once before the affair started. He actually seemed like a nice guy. His accent was definitely not Pepé Le Pew. He had a bit of the Quebec twang, but he'd lived in Paris for nearly 15 years after university and some of it had gotten smoothed out. In any event, she liked the little endearments he used. They really weren't phony, although they do sound that way.

There's no doubt he went about seducing Jenn but from what she says he liked female companionship. There's a fair bit more to the story and things certainly did get heavy towards the end. Part of what you're getting about his character is due to my wife trying to downplay his better character points, I think. He was always gracious and gentle with her, even though he did push he sexually to do things she might have turned down out of hand. Little did he know what he was unleashing! Or maybe he did...

It would probably be best to try to talk Jenn into commenting on this, because I can only give you information second-hand and I do believe what I was told was highly filtered. Regardless of how it started, Jenn was soon a very willing participant. She really loved what he brought out in her. She told me recently if she hadn't been already committed to me so there was no guilt involved, what she enjoyed with Marc would have been possibly the most enjoyable time of her life. That's sort of blunt, but she's deadly honest generally. If she hasn't confided everything that happened with Marc, it's only to spare my feelings.

I'm so glad things worked out the way they did between us and a lot of it was due to Marc. Hang in for the end of the story to learn all. I'm trying to move my wife along on this, but one doesn't successfully hurry redheads...

Rob

[jeremylynne]

Love it.
Thanks.
Reminds me of when Lynne and I went to university in different cities and she had her first other lover then.

First, thanks for responding. There hasn't been much, and I'm sure there's much I could learn from people on this site. Jenn, too, for that matter. I'd love to share her with someone again. She came close a few times over the years, but this is a woman who can be incredibly disciplined and controlled. That's probably the most amazing thing to me: how Marc got her to just let go and let it happen. If you knew her family and her upbringing you would be incredibly amazed that she did what she did.

Anyway, that's what happened to Jenn and me, although I'd finished school and got a job in another city. She had graduated but wanted to do a couple more courses and spend another year with her teacher, so we were separated most of the time. I was also travelling a fair bit then so we had little time together. And if you've read from the beginning of her (very personal and forthright) accounts, you'll see how what transpired first began. My wife was basically lonely and Marc was there when I wasn't.

Her guilt over what happened really ate away at her. She really wanted to tell me almost from the beginning, but it was nearly impossible for many reasons. Top of the list was she feared I'd show her the door (silly girl -- as if I could EVER do that), and she's told me more recently that a good part of it was that she didn't want to stop. Marc was a very skilled lover and sent her place I never had. What eventually gave her away was that she wanted to always try these new things with me, stuff that it turned out she'd done with him. I did need a lot of schooling and I've often toyed with the idea of thanking Marc, because through Jennifer, he made me a much better lover.

Did she shock me? Yes. But once I got over the bit of hurt I felt (very quickly), I realized what a good thing it was. I doubt if Jenn would have ever opened up her sexuality if Marc hadn't happened into her life.

Did your wife's university affair have any effect on your love life in that sort of way? Once Jenn came clean and she could sexually be herself with me, our lovemaking improved dramatically. I LOVED the new her, and she was very forthright in what she wanted me to do to her. It was all because of her time in the bed of another man.

Rob

Lynne and I were high school sweethearts, each others first and only, or so we supposed back then.

We went to different universities first year. I remember meeting some cute girls and even kissing one but that was as far as it went since I was trying for professional school and still dating Lynne on weekends. She was at a school 3 hours away working equally as hard. Im sure she was hit on lots and I also wonder how far she really went…

I transferred the next year and we lived together. The year after that I got into the school I wanted and the year after that so did she, but in another city.

We did the next three years studying and commuting and being ? faithful. Anyway, being a normal guy I had a hankering to try other women so just before exams I decided not to travel to her as arranged, but go to a party instead .I knew that she was studying with one guy a lot, and even playing tennis with him. apparently after she hung up the phone with me she accepted his invitation to dinner as well.

The next weekend we had lunch togther. She was so radiant and confident and beautiful. Yet she was cool and aloof towards me.

I out and out asked her and she admitted I was no longer her only lover. It hit me like a ton of bricks and there was no turning back, I felt mad, jealous helpless and now realize, excited.

As I said, I didn't handle it well. Immature. We broke up, even if we were still in love and we were apart for about a year. Six months in I tried to win her back. She tells me that one night when I came over, and she sent me packing, another guy was ACTUALLY THERE.

I had a few Girlfriends too but mostly thought of her.

I have asked her details about what she did then and she has told me some in installments and now understands how excited I get.

We still haven't acted on our fantasies totally since kids etc. She has admitted to fooling around a little at a conference soon after we married. I have to go slow with that one and encourage her to open up without scaring her of, but also supporting her.

I try to convince her I'd love some more stories but even the ones she has told me are fun.

She doles out the info slowly and in teasing little pieces. Funny how I parse her words carefully to determine inconsistencies or clues about time place and partner.

She never tells me names, although I do know who her first was and also a guy she went out with for a number of months. She says there were three others, one of whom was middle aged, married and one of her supervisors. The others she has never named and won't tell me if I know them or not. So I've always wondered if any of our mutual friends has known her intimately. Maybe I've shaken his hand and only she and he (maybe others to!) know but I do not.

We have been fairly adventurous together and while when we were young I always fantasized about inviting a friend to join us, I never acted on it. Unlike the guy she went out with because apparently , at a party once, he unbuttoned her blouse in an upstairs bedroom while a friend of his looked on. She said she was feeling really frisky since she had no panties on under her skirt. The friend approached them and eventually ran his hand up her thigh and was pleasantly surprised to find no resistance and a very wet reception. She says he ate her while her "boyfriend" carressed her breasts but that she never had intercourse with him. She did not say if she fucked her friend in front of the other guy.

Anyway, much more than she has done with me , and now as married mom, maybe for ever. Unless I can convince her more stories would enhance what we share and not subtract.

I try to keep the dialogue open. Much easier in bed. Occasionally she will get on a subject of "old" boyfriends" in the daylight hours. Something like , I used to date a scuba diver " etc.

I try to act casual so she opens up and keeps going but if I pry too much she clams up and tells me I have a one track mind.

Sometimes it is serious, like the time she found herself in a compromising situation with our landlord in second year University. We lived in a basement apartment. I was working out of town for the summer so she was hanging out there. I left just after we moved in. She was just 19 or 20, and also naive. He was working around the house one hot day so she invited him for dinner to be neighbourly. After dinner he invited her for a ride in the evening. He drove her way out into the country and then put the moves on her. I guess he misinterpreted her kindness.

Fortunately he took NO for an answer and drove her home. I have always listened attentively and respectfully because this was a big, and fairly traumatic, event for her. I always want to ask her what EXACTLY happened but just can't. He was in late 50s at the time. Oddly, only a few years later she actually was seduced by a man his age.

Other times when I get her really frisky she will admit to other men touching and kissing her since we married but denies intercourse, even though I might be excited at the time of the "mutual confessions". The man at the conference falls into that category.

I figure this must have been at a time when I was studying for an exam and she was traveling a lot for work, often overnight. I know one of the workers, a big guy, loud, was always hitting on her. Not her type, but I always wonder.

That is our story, so you can see why I am so interested in yours, especially as it is from her point of view.

[Righteous]

Here is the second half of what happened over that New Years weekend. There are a number of things that came up that need some further explanation/clarification, but that will have to come later from me. The things that are described here conflicted my darling wife more than just about anything during her affair with Marc. You see, she is the product of a family for which this sort of thing would be completely unacceptable. We probably talked over this episode in her time with Marc more than nearly everything else combined. Anyway, more later...

Chapter 8

A glance at the bedside clock next morning told me it was nearly 9:00. Marc was pressed tightly against me, his left hand on my hip and I could feel his morning erection against my backside.

From his breathing, I knew at once he was not asleep, but I wanted a few moments to go over what had transpired the evening before, now that my head was clearer.

I couldn’t wrap my brain around the fact that I’d let him take me anally. No. That wasn’t accurate. What I couldn’t wrap my head around was that I’d actually enjoyed it. I got swept up in the moment and he had gotten me a bit tipsy, or I likely might have balked, but once he got started and I realized it really didn’t hurt all that much, I certainly didn’t want him to stop. Amazing. I’d actually done it! It made me feel like I had the morning after I’d sex for the first time.

The other thing was that it was obvious Marc knew the people who owned the chalet in more than a friendship way. I was curious about that — to say the least.

I wiggled back against him a bit and felt his erection enlarge gratifyingly.

“You are awake, Jen?”

After stretching and yawning, I answered, “I think so.”

Marc pulled me tighter against him and his hand moved up to my left breast. “Are you okay about what we did last night?”

“Mmmm… I guess so. It surprised me.”

“In what way?”

“First of all, that I let you do it — although it wasn’t fair that you had me tied down like that.”

“That was part of the kick. I know when a woman enjoys being restrained.”

I turned over to face him. “How can you be so sure?”

“Do you not like it?”

“Well, yes. Just not all the time. The mood has to be right. Just like I enjoyed having you, um, do what you did last night, but I certainly wouldn’t want that all the time.”

“Did I make you sore?”

I considered. “Maybe just a little bit. But it’s also pretty, you know…dirty.”

“There are ways I could show you to take care of that problem.”

The time had come. I needed answers to any number of things about Marc. With AIDS a constant thing in the news, I was taking a big chance allowing Marc to have me unprotected. Sure, he’d said he was clean, but I also knew what a horn dog he was, too. He’d never hidden that from me.

(And it was actually one of the things that got him into my pants, actually. Having this experienced older man so interested in me had been a huge turn-on, event though I was well aware that it was also the fact I was young and pretty. He’d also never had a redhead before.)

Anyway, I’d refrained from asking too many questions, but that weekend it felt right, so I asked. We spent a lot of time talking. The weather was incredibly nasty outside, so we stayed in front of the fire or in bed, never getting dressed the entire weekend. Being so relaxed and yet horny, we both had a tough time keeping our hands off each other, but Marc got me to agree to keep our arousal on a high simmer, so even though we stroked and kissed and sucked our way through the hours we also talked, we never allowed ourselves to go through to completion.

The effect was quite incredible. I became almost hyper-horny and since the topic of conversation was Marc’s sexual experiences (he referred to it as his “education”), it was natural that we’d both be turned on. Marc’s erection never completely subsided and I was always tingly and wet. Often he’d break a sentence to lean over and suck a nipple for a minute or two, and at one point he was telling me about losing his virginity while he had two finger inside me, stroking my G-spot. I felt sexy and sophisticated.

To cut it short (since you’ve been pretty insistent asking about this, Rob), Marc had “become a man” to a friend of his older sister when he was fifteen. That had been little more than a bit of fondling (she sucked him for awhile, too), then him pumping away on top of her for about a minute before he came. It hadn’t been much of an experience. She hadn’t known very much and he’d known nothing. (She’d had to show him where to stick it in.)

Being from near a small Quebec city (Trois Riviere) and being a very serious violin student, like me, he didn’t have all that much time to date. He met a girl at the National Youth Orchestra his first summer (he was seventeen), and they hit it off. Naturally, in such a hot house environment, they were soon intimate. This experience was a lot better for him. Only problem was, she lived in Victoria, so that situation didn’t help things along. By the next summer, she had a serious boyfriend back home and even though they did make love once, she was just too consumed by guilt to let the liason continue.

Even though Trois Riviere had a branch of the Conservatoire, Marc decided he wanted to study in Montreal. His first year was okay, and the Montreal girls were much more willing to fool around than the rural girls with whom he’d grown up, but violin still came first and girls a distant second.

It wasn’t until his twenty-first year that Marc’s sexual education blossomed. He moved to Paris to study at the Conservatoire there. He took lodgings with an older couple (she was in her 40s, he was in his 60s). The husband traveled and they had no children. Pretty soon he found himself in her bed. Turns out she had done this with other student lodgers. In fact, her husband knew and encouraged it. (That was the first time I’d heard the term “cuckold” used.) At first Marc was very nervous, but soon, at her hands (and from a word by the husband) he knew he was welcome to have her anytime he wanted.

“She was a sexual goddess,” Marc told me. “Not all that beautiful in the face, but pretty enough. She had a delightful body, though, and seemed to know everything about the “sexual arts”, as she called them. It was Angelique who taught me how to properly make love to a woman, how to read every sigh and shiver, how to anticipate what my lover would want next. I learned everything I know in her bed, worshipping her body.”

He enjoyed it so much, in fact, that he lived with them for almost two years after he finished school. She finally ended it when she sensed him falling hopelessly in love with him.

He stayed in Paris for another three years, and had several more lovers. Finally, Marc decided to return home, but to live in Montreal. Once back, he continued playing the field, but within two years, he got one of his lovers pregnant and they decided to marry. There was another child two years after that. As time went on, his wife wasn’t all that interested in sex, so he started fooling around. Barely a year before he met me, they’d decided to divorce when she discovered what he’d been up to (“Not that I really hid it all that much. I think that it was just an excuse to end our marriage. We’d ceased to be in love years before.”)

Marc also answered my questions about the the owners of the chalet. They were swingers and at one time, he’d been the woman’s regular lover. The husband took part sometimes, but also just liked to watch. They’d spent many weekends at the chalet. That’s how he knew where the intimate stuff was. They were very much into BDSM, but it went way beyond the “spreader bar” and nylon restraints Marc had used on me.

The chalet was built on the foundation of an older building, so it had a stone basement. Marc took me down there. It was a full-scale dungeon with manacles stapled into the walls and ceilings and metal restraining things all around. There were whips and canes and a big X-shaped thing that someone could be tied to.

Marc came up behind me, and put his hands on my waist. I could feel his erection pressed up against my heinie crack. “See anything you’d like to try out?”

I shivered, and not from the cold. This was serious stuff and scared the bejeezus out of me. I removed his hands and headed for the stairs. “No thanks. This doesn’t interest me in the slightest.”

Thing was, some of it did. I did enjoy being restrained. There was something about being completely helpless that really turned me on. But I didn’t want Marc to know that. To be honest, I didn’t completely trust him. I also knew if I said much about the way I actually felt that he’d want to push me harder. I wasn’t into was pain. Not being able to move is one thing, someone whipping my ass is quite another.

Back upstairs, I decided I wanted to practise, so I pulled out my instrument and tuned up, completely in the buff. Marc was watching me from the doorway of the living room and his erection was straight out, moving slightly with each heartbeat. It was difficult to concentrate with his trouser snake looking so “menacing”. Turned on as I was, juices soon were dripping down my legs.

“Would you like to try something fun?” he asked.

I stopped. “What? Now? I’m in the middle of warming up.”

“How about I will lie on the floor and you will ride my face. I know you enjoy that, my dear. But what I want you to do is play some Bach at the same time. (I had all the unaccompanied sonatas memorized by that point.) I will bet you cannot concentrate enough to keep playing to the end of a movement.”

He knew how to get to me. A challenge like that couldn’t be left without answer.

“If I win?”

“You can do with me as you see fit.”

I immediately thought of the padded sawhorse and wooden paddles I’d spotted in the basement dungeon. It would serve Marc right!

“But if you lose, then I can do the same to you.”

“I will not go downstairs with you and that’s final. And all the stuff stays down there, too.”

“Agreed. Shall we begin?”

In short order, I was dropping my juicy self onto Marc’s face. It was awkward to stay balanced with my nether regions partially lowered onto my lover and then be able to play, but I got the knack pretty quickly. I chose the “Allegro” from the 3rd Sonata.

As I’ve told you before, Marc was skillful with his tongue, and I’d already spent a number of hours that day being teased by him, so it didn’t take long until I was close to losing it. Every iota of concentration went to what I was doing with my hands rather than what was happening between my legs. With his hands on my bum, Marc began rocking me back and forth so that my clitoris bumped against his nose and that added another whole dimension of pleasure.

I knew if I orgasmed with as much force as I could feel building up in my groin, I wouldn’t be able to even hold my instrument, let alone play it. I began playing faster so that I could get to the end sooner. Marc mumbled something, but with my bottom covering his mouth, nothing intelligible came through.

With barely twenty seconds more music to get through, I just couldn’t hold back and my long-suppressed orgasm burst over me. Marc told me later my groan was “most gratifying”. All I know is that I barely held on to my instrument and my bow did drop through my fingers. With your whole body convulsing it’s hard to do anything but ride the wave. Kneeling as I was, I shook and shook uncontrollably. It was only the second or third time an orgasm made me feel lightheaded, as if I might faint. To be honest, the ecstasy I was feeling was nearly overwhelming.

Which is how I came to find myself not many minutes later, lying face down on the bed with a pillow under my hips. Between my legs, Marc was again generously lubricating my anus. When I’d taken up his little bet, I had a pretty good idea this is what he would want.

I’d just had my first enema, so I felt much more relaxed knowing I was clean. (And now you know why I got the enema kit we’ve used so many times now. Whenever I visited Marc and felt horny enough for some anal, I’d clean myself up before leaving my apartment. Sorry I couldn’t admit to you the real reason why I had it when you first found it. I’ve made up to you about that since, haven’t I?)

As he lubricated himself, I looked back over my shoulder at Marc. His erection was raging. Clearly, he was looking forward to having me this way again.

Everything went surprisingly smoothly. With little apprehension this time, I could stay nice and relaxed, even if my hands were cuffed over my head — but that added to my excitement, to tell the truth.

This position was very nice. Marc had good access and was able to half-lie on me, his pelvis pressing me into the bed. It was surprisingly intimate as he began slowly thrusting in and out.

“You are so good this way,” he said ,leaning down to speak into my ear. “Are you liking it?”

“Oh, yes, Marc. Keep doing me like that.”

The real surprise was when I came. I didn’t think people could orgasm just from anal sex. It wasn’t a huge one, but I definitely did cum. Marc was going at it pretty well by then and my nipples were scraping nicely on the coverlet. I have occasionally orgasmed from just nipple play, so possibly that helped. Obviously, the fabric was chosen with this effect in mind.

As my body shook, I groaned out to Marc that I wanted him to finish inside me. I was so far gone with lust that the idea of semen in my rectum just overwhelmed me. It came out almost as begging when I repeated my request after he’d asked if I was sure.

I was rewarded by feeling his cock swell inside me, spasming several times. Marc stayed in position as he shrank. I enjoyed the feeling of him getting smaller and smaller inside of me.

I remember thinking, “Wow! You actually like anal sex.”

Right in the middle of my reverie, you called, Robby.

I’d had to give you the number. I couldn’t just go off for the weekend (and a special one at that) and not give you a number. You did pick a rather inconvenient time to call, though. I suppose it would have been a lot worse if you’d called a few minutes earlier!

Marc handed me the receiver and we talked. He had the good grace to leave the room, after folding up the end of the towel I’d been lying on so we wouldn’t make a mess on the coverlet.

I was sure at the time you’d be able to tell I’d just had sex with someone. I know my voice sounded somewhat fuzzy, reflecting the state of my brain. Thinking quickly, I told you I’d been taking a nap, that the others were out snowshoeing and I hadn’t wanted to join them. Even though I hated myself for lying so baldly, what else could I do when you asked why I sounded strange? Tell you the truth?

After a few minutes of small talk, you wished me a Happy New Year and clicked off. I was very conflicted. What I was doing, especially what I’d just done, was so wrong. If I knew then what I know now, I could have just told you. Actually, I could have told you after the first time Marc had me. It would have spared us both so much emotional agony later on.

I took another shower and when I came out, Marc had the fire stoked up in the living room and a couple of sandwiches made. Again, here we were sitting naked and just chatting while we ate, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Afterwards we played duets, occasionally reaching out to touch, partly to see if we could mess the other up, and partly because we simply couldn’t restrain ourselves. That whole weekend I was completely in lust with Marc.

As the day rolled into evening, we continued our orgasm-suppression play, but took delight in fucking all over the house, even if it wasn’t to completion. Marc even had me outside, dressed only in ski boots with me bent over the porch railing while he whaled away from behind. It was really hard to stop that time. By the time midnight rolled around, we were both primed and very ready to blast off again. As the hands of the clock approached straight up, I pulled on Marc’s hips and he slid smoothly inside me, hard as steel but warm and soft at the same time. We hadn’t enjoyed each other in the straight missionary position so far that weekend and I wanted him to take me that way as the old year changed to the new.

Lying on top of me, smothering me with hot kisses, Marc went very slowly at first. It was very sensual and loving. At two minutes to midnight, he withdrew, rose to his knees, lifting me onto his cock — just the way we’d made love the first time. At this angle with the head of his penis sliding over my G-spot just right, I was soon shaking, begging him to make me cum.

My lover responded, thrusting into me lustily as he held my ass cupped in his strong hands.

“You are so good, my Jen. I adore the way you give yourself to me.”

“And I love your cock. Fuck me, Marc! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

He had his eye on the clock and as the final minute of the year played out, he used his elbows to open my legs further, causing his pubic bone to crash into my poor little clitoris. It was all I needed to launch into sexual ecstasy.

I writhed. I babbled in tongues. Marc said my eyes rolled up into my head and he could barely hold on to me I was moving so much. He also came but I was so far gone in my own enjoyment that I didn’t even notice. Fortunately, we’d put down two towels or the bed would have been a sodden mess I squirted out so much liquid. I can truthfully say it was the most explosive orgasm I’ve ever experienced. As he withdrew and lowered me gently, I was barely aware of my surroundings. Pleasant little aftershocks kept shooting through my body and Marc said I had a stupid little grin plastered across my face. I was one contented female.

Wow! I thought. If I’d known sex could be like this, I would have started a lot earlier.

Of course, sex wasn’t like this until I met Marc.

During the night, I woke up, finding my hand around Marc’s penis. He was still asleep, but unbelievably after all we’d done, he was still slightly hard.

(As it so often does in the dark hours of the night, guilt at what I’d done, what I was still planning to do, assailed me, crushing me under its massive weight. I couldn’t deny Marc completely rocked my world whenever he touched me, but I was married and wanted to be still committed to another man. That was you, Robby. Even though I’d yet again dishonored our marriage bed, I wanted you desperately right then. If you can’t make much sense of that, I can’t, either. Even now after we’ve talked and talked and talked about what happened, I still don’t understand so many things.

Then it came to me. No matter what it took, I would teach you all that I was learning from my more experienced lover. As that woman in Paris had done with Marc, I would ask him to teach me everything he knew. I would become a student of sex so that I could learn how to pleasure you completely, as I’d show you exactly how to pleasure me. I would deny you nothing. Too often in the past I’d told you “No!” out of hand. Marc had shown me how stupid that attitude was over and over this weekend. My biggest problem would be how to show you what I’d learned without raising your suspicions — something I failed at quite miserably as it turned out. Until I slipped up that one drunken night, I was completely convinced you must never know about Marc and what your wife did with him. I was certain it would end our marriage. But most of all, I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you that much. Little did I know…)

[Righteous]

I feel like it’s time sort of stop and take a breath. The chapters we posted about my wife’s New Years weekend with her lover are still a very problematic for her. Regardless of what she was up to with another man, I was out of the country at the time, so it made sense in a perverse way for him to be with him. I’ve told her repeatedly she had no reason to feel guilty for being with him during that “special time” (as she’s called it). But somehow she still is, far more than she feels guilty about what she did that weekend. I did eventually get her to admit — as she does now in her revised telling which differs significantly in several places from the first draft she originally gave me ten years ago now — that this weekend with her lover in that chalet was another real turning point for her — and not because she allowed Marc to take her anally.

She didn’t tell me anything about this weekend for a long time. The way she handed over the chapters of her story, this was actually chapter 16 (not 7 & 8 as I’ve numbered them here) because she originally completely skipped over these events when she was first writing out her account. Though we’ve enjoyed anal sex for a number of years now, she’d led me to believe I was her first. When the true events finally came out that Marc had deflowered her cute little rear end, I was truly shocked and rather upset that she hadn’t told me the truth about it. But even that painful moment worked in our relationship’s favor as we vowed never to lie to each other again for any reason. And I know Jennifer has stuck to that agreement.

We’ve received a few PM’s from folks, asking for details about how I actually found out about her and Marc. As Jenn found out, it’s very hard to keep a secret this huge, although she managed it for nearly a year and a half. Unlike most women (in my limited experience), Jenn actually can compartmentalize things (usually a more male trait). From her point of view, the affair was in the past, over and done, never to be told to anyone. Because of her upbringing and despite all her rationalizing, she felt horribly guilty, and even though she was desperate in some ways to be honest with me and not carry this heavy burden, she was certain I’d throw her out if she were to tell me. In reality, I might have considered ending our marriage if I’d found out about her affair from someone else, and that could have easily happened, as it turned out, because mutual friends had figured out that something was going on with her.

It’s a funny thing about Jennifer (and quite possibly many women), but throughout her affair she says she still remained madly in love with me. After the turn of the year, and her realization that she could become my teacher as Marc was then hers, she felt closer to me than ever. I think a large part of it was a way of rationalizing her guilt by concluding that maybe what she was doing was a good thing for our happiness. In the end it has proved to be true. There is no way my conservative, sexually timid wife would ever have become the lover she is today if nothing had happened between her and Marc.

When we met, neither of us had much experience in the sex department. We’d each only had one previous partner we’d gone all the way with. Her first had been a disappointment since he was just a spur-of-the-moment hook-up (something very uncharacteristic for her and a harbinger). She lived with him for a week and he wasn’t much of a lover. My first was a long-term girlfriend and while she knew about as much as I did, she was enthusiastic. She also loved to be eaten. I got very good at it because she’d tell me what she liked and when she liked it.

The first time (3rd date) that Jenn and I did more than kiss and touch a bit, I shocked her by offering to go down on her. She’d had two serious boyfriends during high school, and although she was too petrified about getting pregnant to go all the way with them, she discovered that she loved jerking them off. She confided to me very early on that making a guy hard was a huge turn on for her, but making them cum almost made her cum. She got completely naked with her second boyfriend, and even let him lie on top of her a few times while they made out, but it was too dangerous since she knew she might get too hot to be able to ask them to stop. (I love going over those scenes in my mind.) She kissed both guy’s cocks a few times, but had never taken them in her mouth (the thought of that turned her off). Neither of them ever gave her an orgasm with their fingers. Forget performing oral on her sweet pussy! What dolts. Having Jenn go nuts on the end of my tongue is one of my greatest delights. And I’m in heaven whenever she coyly asks to ride my face the way she used to with Marc, even though I’ve almost drowned from her powerful orgasms a couple of times!

The first time she let me go down on her (5th date), I couldn’t make her cum, but that was because she was nervous and slightly grossed out by the act. On our 6th date, though, she actually asked me to try again. After that, she was onboard any time I wanted to “have an intimate conversation with her friend”.

And by the way, comments are welcome.

[legenf359]

Well writen and very hot

[Righteous]

Thanks for your comment, legenf359. I will pass it on to her. She's been sort of disappointed more people haven't commented. I have too, for that matter. I want to encourage her.

I keep telling Jenn that she should write erotica. She has a real talent for it. Her response is "This isn't writing. I'm just telling you what happened and writing it down instead of talking to you. She initially found it hard to talk about, but wanted to come clean, so using these accounts is what she worked out. Once she saw how much they turned me on, she kept up. At first she wouldn't admit how turned on she also got when she was writing them, until one night, she got out of bed to pee, and there was a huge wet spot where she'd been sitting on the bed working in her journal.

I've asked her about all the dialogue and how she could remember everything in such detail after a year and a half. I loved her comment: "Everything that happened is burned into my memory." Being a musician, she has trained herself to have an exceptional memory.

I originally wanted to post this story here, not her. I've been trying to get her permission to post it somewhere since it is such an incredibly hot account of something that actually took place. Knowing her and being honored by having her love, of course I'd find it hot, but I suspected others would too. When I found this site, I again asked if I could post it. I got an immediate "No one else will want to read it." Over several weeks, I wore her down. Of course she wanted to go over it since it had to be "perfect" (musician again), but I was happy that she began adding details she'd left out in the original versions (especially chapters 7 & 8). Another side benefit is that talking about all this again in such detail has certainly had an effect on her libido. Jenn has been super hot and we've had a lot of terrific sex. I suspect she's also been masturbating furiously whenever she's alone.

She's out of town recording since Thursday. I was teasing her about being naughty while she was gone, and she shocked me by coyly smiling and saying "Maybe." Since Marc, she's only made love to one other person besides me, but that's a later story and happened with my full consent and cooperation. The lucky recipient of that was my best friend from high school who was going through a rough patch and had always found her hot. Jennifer called it her "mercy fuck", but that was just a way to put a light spin on the situation. It was much more than that for both of them. More on that at a later time if anyone is interested.

This morning I found a message from her saying that she's staying away an extra 24 hours. The recording sessions end this morning. After that cryptic comment when she left, I wonder if something may be up?

[legenf359]

oh we are very much interested, please post more

[Righteous]

There's a new post on the Hotwives board about what's going on today, right now. I feel like I'm on a roller coaster with no brakes.

[54321]

GREAT thread!

54321