Here's the story my wife, Jennifer, eventually wrote out for me about how her affair with Marc began.
At the time, she was put out that I was "bugging her about what happened." She wanted to forget it and move on. I said I really needed to know, not only the basics of her liaisons but also how she felt about it at the time (more important, actually, for me to understand and accept it). Being the very forthright person she is, Jen let me have it -- right between the eyes as it were. This story holds nothing back (and she obviously remembered events very clearly).I think she wrote it the way she did to shock me out of bothering her further.
And please don't think poorly of her for what happened. She felt HORRIBLE about what had happened and beat herself up emotionally from the time the affair stopped until she confessed it to me well over a year later. Of course I knew something was very wrong and suspected it was something like this, but she'd vowed to herself to NEVER tell me, afraid that not only would I leave her, but also she deeply ashamed of what she'd allowed herself to get into. "It was like I had this uncontrollable alter ego who would just take me over. I couldn't stop her."
Anyway, happily, we soon found out that her escapades turned us both on. To this day, she only has to say something like, "I remember the time Marc and I…" and we're off to the races.
Hope you enjoy this. Jen can write a hot tale when she puts her mind to it!
I watched Marc get to his feet.
After quickly removing his already-opened shirt, he paused and fixed me with his eyes as his hands dropped to the top of his slacks. His gaze steady as if drinking in the sight of me ready for him, he undid the button, lowered the zipper and slid the fabric down his legs. His underwear soon followed. My heart began pounding even harder as I saw his erection for the first time.
I was still partially dressed. Over the past half-hour, he’d untied my brown, wrap-around skirt. It now lay underneath me. The only other article of clothing I’d had on was a favourite green leotard with spaghetti straps and snaps holding it shut at the bottom. This was currently bunched in the middle of my body since Marc had lowered the top part to gain access to my breasts early on. A few minutes ago he’d undone the snaps between my legs and I’d felt his fingers caressing my most intimate places for the first time.
Moving closer, he helped me lie sideways on his sofa. To make room for him, I placed one leg over the low back of the sofa. My other leg was supported by my bare foot on the floor. I remained motionless as Marc positioned himself between my thighs.
“You look so beautiful tonight. I love the fire of your red hair, the way your body moves. Everything about you excites me, Jennifer. I have waited a long time to be able to say that to you.”
He leaned down and we began kissing again, long, deep and increasingly hot. My body began shaking, whether from excitement or fear, I couldn’t tell. The heat of Marc between my legs felt welcome and wonderful and incredibly erotic.
His lips moved to my neck, increasingly exciting me. I shifted a bit underneath him and immediately felt his erection push open my vulva, and then slide up and come to rest right against the opening of my vagina. I was now on the threshold of something I feared, but was also aching for.
“Are you ready for me?” he asked softly near my ear.
I nodded my head and whispered, “Yes.”
Shifting his hands to the sofa arm behind my head, he rose up over me. I felt his hips press forward.
Oh God! Marc was slipping inside me. I could scarcely believe we were actually making love. Lifting my head, I watched as his length disappeared very slowly, stretching out the enjoyment of that initial thrust until his pubic bone was pressing against mine.
Because of his girth, Marc’s erection fitted into me quite snugly, but it felt very, very good. He was only the third person to be there, if you count the dimwit I’d let take my virginity at the end of my first year of university.
The expression on my new lover’s face was a blend of concentration and pleasure. “Is that good for you?”
I nodded. “Oh, yes.”
“Me, as well.”
Marc and I had danced around what we were feeling between us ever since we’d met while teaching at Lac St. Jean, a summer music camp where we’d both been violin instructors. He’s French Canadian and I’m Anglo, and we’d quickly become fast friends. It was a curious friendship, though. He’d recently divorced; I hadn’t been married very long. He was in his mid-forties; I was in my mid-twenties. Part of the attraction on my side was almost adulation. Marc was an established and very accomplished musician, everything I longed to be. Another plus was he decided very early on that we’d only speak French – to help me improve mine further. While there, we’d only kissed once (good sense had prevailed on that occasion), but it had been a warm, passionate one, announcing it was quite likely that someday we might be unable to resist temptation and would become lovers.
Tonight, it had finally happened, after several months of increasing closeness between us. I knew quite well I shouldn’t be doing this, but I just couldn’t hold back any longer. He’d made the first move, leaning over to kiss me as we sat and chatted on his sofa.
It wasn’t a long one, but it was very, very nice. At the time it had sort of surprised me that he’d done it. The other time we’d kissed, I had asked him not to do it again. While I’d loved him doing it (and it was burned into my memory), I knew it wasn’t a good idea to allow it to go to another one. Until tonight, Marc had honored that request.
After kissing me, he’d pulled back with a quizzical look on his face, asking silently, “Was it all right to do that?”
When I didn’t indicate one way or the other, he leaned in again, and after a moment’s hesitation, I eagerly returned his kiss. I’d had only half a glass of wine. Maybe that had loosened my inhibitions slightly, but all during September since I’d returned to school in Montreal and contacted him, I had been thinking more and more about Marc and “possibilities”.
Now, tonight, on the sofa in his flat in Old Montreal, we were consummating a relationship that had actually begun back in July.
We remained motionless, me looking up, probably with a slightly bewildered expression on my face, Marc smiling down warmly, both of us luxuriating in the feeling of finally being intimate, as close as a male and female can be joined physically. He bent down and again kissed me deeply.
“We have waited a long time for this, have we not? he asked.
“I tried to resist your temptation, but tonight you just looked too beautiful for me to remain at a distance any longer.”
“I couldn’t resist, either.”
“Are you glad this is happening?”
“Yes, Marc. You feel so good inside me, so hard.”
We kissed again, our tongues dancing together. This man knew how to kiss!
Marc pulled out almost to the end of his erection. Then his left hand slipped down between us, and after moistening his fingers in my lubricating fluids, he began gently caressing me at the top of my slit, teasingly coaxing my arousal even further. I gasped and moaned when he allowed a finger to finally brush over my clitoris. His hot kisses rained down on my lips, face, and neck.
That’s when he began to move, withdrawing slowly, then thrusting in quick and hard. His hand, caught between us, helped further stimulate me every time we crashed together.
For many minutes he made love to me like that. Marc had wonderful staying power. I moved my hands up behind me to the sofa’s arm so I could better resist his thrusts and increase our enjoyment.
He smiled again. “I knew you would be a responsive lover, Jennifer. I could see it in the way you move, the way you touch my arm when we talk, in your eyes, but especially in the way you make music.”
He took a deep, contented breath as he continued thrusting. After several glorious minutes of feeling his manhood sliding into and out of me, Marc stopped and pulled out.
“What’s wrong? I asked, alarmed that he was stopping.
“Nothing, ma chère.”
Rising to his knees, he slid his hands under my rear end, lifting my lower body to the level of his erection. I used my legs to help support my weight.
Once again, he slid into me, this time very quickly, causing a sharp intake of my breath. His hands felt wonderful as they held and caressed my buns. Shifting them slightly, he tilted my pelvis up. The result was he could penetrate more deeply. Once again his pubic bone began bumping my clitoris whenever our bodies came together and my arousal rose even more. We were making love in earnest now, moving together more fluidly. I pushed forward every time our bodies met, taking as active a part as I could since my hips were higher than my upper body. The room was silent except for sighs and moans and the slap of our bodies coming together.
Marc was a very passionate lover. There was deep ardor in his movements and he was obviously very experienced. My husband, Rob, was an “enthusiastic” lover. He adored my naked body, couldn’t get enough of making love to me, but our unions were generally too short for me to enjoy them to the maximum. Oh, he did make certain I always had an orgasm, but he was a sprinter in the act of love. Marc was a long-distance runner.
This experience was very different. I marveled how this man could keep going. It gave me time to savor every aspect of what we were doing together: how interesting it felt to have an someone else’s penis inside me, how his hands holding my bottom excited me, his hot kisses, everything was just so different than what I was used to. Marc’s thrusting body seemed tireless.
Eventually, though, my legs began to tire. Perhaps sensing this, Marc’s pace quickened. He knew I was on the pill so it was safe to ejaculate inside me. Earlier, he’d offered to use a condom anyway, but I’d refused. I wanted to feel him, his skin to my skin.
“I am going to finish soon,” he said.
“I want you to finish inside me.” I had to feel from this man that deeply erotic pulsing that I loved so much.
I could feel his penis swelling to even greater hardness, something that always excites me a lot and I let out a low groan.
Marc thrust into me forcefully about a half dozen more times before I felt his penis swell to its maximum. As he drove himself forward one last time, I felt it pulse deep inside me, filling me with proof of his passion. We remained joined tightly for several more seconds before he gently lowered my rear end to the sofa, causing his softening erection to fall out of me. Fluids slid down between my legs onto the sofa cushion. I looked at what was hanging between his legs, coated with evidence of our union. It excited me to know that I’d been made love to at long last by this man whom I admired so much.
Marc was slightly out of breath. We stared at each other, silently assessing what had just taken place.
“Jennifer, you are good?” he asked gently.
“Yes, Marc, I’m fine. I’m very fine.”
“You have not had an orgasm yet, though, and that must be remedied.”
Offering me a hand, he helped me sit up and we wound up side-by-side as we’d started the evening. Marc pulled my bunched up leotard over my head, and we immediately began kissing again.
“I was very close before,” I told him between kisses, “when you were making love to me.”
I threw my right leg over his left, opening myself up. He took the hint immediately and his right hand moved from the nipple of my left breast, sliding down the outside of my body to my waist, and then over to the apex of my legs. Underneath my right leg, I could feel his penis begin to harden again.
Turned partially so we were almost facing each other, Marc’s hand began to play in my garden. I was still very wet from our first round of lovemaking so he had lots of lubrication to use. The arm he slipped behind me felt wonderful, especially when he moved it forward, taking my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger and started tugging on it gently.
“Marc,” I moaned, “that feels so incredible.”
“Mmm… I love sucking your nipples very much.” With that, my new lover bent over and took my right nipple into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it in the most erotic way imaginable.
I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him where he was because what he was doing to my body felt so incredible. Down between my legs, he was stroking inside my vulva almost lazily, occasionally dipping his fingers inside me, and even less occasionally rubbing alongside my clitoris. Though my arousal was increasing, it was frustratingly slow.
My body began to move almost by itself. Every time Marc’s fingers got close to my clitoris, my hips would thrust downward, eager for his fingers to make contact with that sensitive place. Two times he brought me so close to orgasm I was on the very brink, panting and moaning. And two times his hand moved away to cup my entire genital area, frustratingly denying my release. Between these time, we’d kiss as I cooled off and one hand would cup a breast while the other would stroke my inner thighs.
“Dearest Jennifer,” he breathed into my ear. “You excite me very much. Can you feel it?”
I wiggled my leg against his lap and felt his now-hard erection twitch. Grinning, I asked, “Does that answer your question?” then gave him my lustiest kiss – con brio!
His right hand started stroking my genitals lightly again and by this time I was growing increasingly frustrated at not achieving an orgasm by means of his fingers.
Slowly and patiently he brought me upwards until I was writhing around under his gentle onslaught. My moans and sighs filled the room even as his mouth covered mine with hot kisses.
I was close, oh so close, standing higher than ever at that sweet precipice.
“Marc,” I groaned, “if you don’t let me orgasm this time, I’m going to go crazy. I want to finish!”
He pulled back and looked at me. “You are ready?” he asked sweetly, a hint of amusement around his lips.
“I am way past ready. Don’t torture me anymore!”
“By doing this, I am only increasing the enjoyment of your eventual release.”
“But you’ve got me nearly squirming off the sofa!”
Now his smile was broad. “Precisely.”
We went back to kissing, and he was tugging and twisting my left nipple harder now as he used his arm to pull me tightly against him. His lips went back to my other nipple and sucked hard.
My body, out of my control now, began to twitch and I threw my legs open even farther to give Marc complete access. Now he was using two fingers to trace the inside of my lips, occasionally sliding then inside me and then wiggling them across the top of my vagina. It all felt heavenly and I couldn’t control my hips which began to thrust at whatever contact he deigned to give me. I was completely under his spell.
Over and over I was moaning, “Oh Marc, oh Marc…” as he continued his exquisite torture.
His mouth was near my ear again. “Do you want to finish, my love?” he asked.
“Oh yes, dear God. Please let me finish!”
“Do you like it when I do this?” His fingers began sliding up and down my slit, but without contact with my aching clitoris.
“No! I want you to touch me.”
“Where, dearest Jennifer?”
“You know where.”
“You must tell me.”
“On the spot that makes me hottest!”
“Like this?” His two fingers lightly caressed my clitoris and then moved away.
“Marc, if you don’t make me orgasm right now, there’s going to be a serious problem!”
His lips found my neck again and as he nibbled and sucked on it, he finally began to touch me in earnest. It took barely a minute more for my excitement to crest. My body and mind went totally out of control as an exquisite orgasm ripped through me, making me writhe on Marc’s lap until he had to slide his left arm down to my waist to hold me in place.
He had known just what to do, teasing me until I couldn’t stand it anymore, and then backing off, kissing my neck and holding me tight until my body was once again ready for more. I lay there panting as I relived what I had just experienced.
Marc let me come down from my sexual high, kissing my neck, the top of my chest and nuzzling my right ear with his lips. I remember the first thing that crossed my addled mind was a deep feeling of contentment – and I was having trouble focusing my eyes.
“I want to take you again. Watching your orgasm has made me very excited.”
“Marc, you can do anything to me you want.”
“I want to have you from the behind this time.”
“Anything,” I said dreamily.
“Get up and kneel on the sofa facing the back.”
I did as he asked. Draping my arms over the back of the sofa, I arched my back, raising my ass provocatively, so my lover would have easy access.
He moved forward, still standing. His hands traced the curves of my buttocks and his fingertips grazed my lower back sensuously. Suddenly his lips were up near my shoulders as he pressed against me. “I love your derriere, dearest Jennifer.”
I wiggled it against him. “I’m glad. I want to feel you inside me again, Marc.”
His hands moved my waist and I could feel his erection between my legs, hard as steel and ready to ravage me again.
“Put me into you, Jennifer. Put me at your opening.”
I did as he asked, and he immediately thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt. I moaned loudly as again his manhood filled me up completely, deeper inside me than he had been the first time. Marc’s penis was slightly bigger around than my husband’s and maybe a little longer, but inside me this way, he felt huge.
“Take me, Marc! I want to feel your penis swell and pulse inside me again.”
His hands gripped my waist as he began to pull me back into him as he stood on the floor behind me. This time I was aware that he was using my body for his pleasure, and if anything, that turned me on more than ever. Over and over and over, his onslaught continued as he made my most secret place his.
We were grunting and moaning with the force of our coupling, telling each other how much we were loving it. Both of us desired the same thing: his release. Marc began saying how much he loved my ass, the curve of my back, my long red hair. “You are so beautiful, dear Jennifer.”
I was panting and thrusting back forcefully, totally out of control and wanting to give my lover as much pleasure as he was giving me.
“Jennifer, you feel so good around my cock.”
“Oh God! You feel so good, too. I love having you inside me.”
Harder and harder he thrust into me, and I could tell he was close. Both of us were gasping and moaning as he used his hands on my waist to pull me into him. I loved how his penis felt from this angle and turned up my ass to allow him to push even deeper into me.
“Oh…Jennifer…. I cannot hold back. I am going to fill you again.”
“Yes, Marc, yes! I want you to do that.”
Three more hard thrusts and he held my ass against his groin. I felt him swell and pulse very deep inside me. I was nowhere near orgasming myself, but I loved the way he felt and was turned on by it by making this man orgasm.
After he finished, he stayed tightly against me, panting. Now and then he’d bump at me but I could feel his erection was subsiding. When he finally stepped back, I cupped my hand over my genitals and got off the sofa. As I stood, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close and kissing me again.
“That was wonderful.”
I kissed his cheek. “I really enjoyed it, too.” As I headed off to the bathroom, I asked over my shoulder, “Do you mind if I take a shower?”
“Whatever you would like, my dear.”
Under the hot water, cleaning myself, my brain began to clear. I had just been made love to (most throughly!) by a man I admired for so many reasons. I felt completely and totally ravaged. And while I knew I had allowed myself to do something I should not have, I also had to be honest and say that I’d thoroughly enjoyed making love to Marc.
After drying myself, I dressed and went out to the living room. Marc was wearing a robe (obviously still naked under it), sipping a glass of wine, a contented look on his face.
“All clean?” he asked.
He fixed me with his eyes. “Any regrets?”
I thought about that for several moments, then answered, “No.”
“Would you like me to cook that steak for you now?”
“No. I think I’d like to go home.”
“I will drive you.”
He got dressed quickly and we went down to his car. The ride was mostly silent, but every time we stopped for a light, his hand slipped over my knee or stroked my cheek.
Pulling up in front of the door to my building in the student ghetto, I started to get out, but Marc’s hand on my upper arm stopped me.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. “We took a large step tonight.”
I’d told him quite a bit about my husband, and Marc knew what my feelings were and that I would be heavily conflicted about what had just taken place. But Marc also had a bit of an amoral streak. I knew he liked the company of women. I knew there had been someone between our summer kiss and what had happened tonight. He was also nearly the same age as my father, with daughters nearly my age. All of these things I knew ahead of time. Up until tonight, I had been able to hold my feelings in check, other than that one fateful kiss in Lac Saint Jean.
I looked back at Marc and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. He turned his head and our lips met. The kiss deepened and strengthened and I felt him reach for me.
“No, Marc. That’s enough for one night. I have to go now.”
As I got out of his car, he leaned over, looking up at me. “When can I see you again?”
I shrugged. “I have some things to do tomorrow and there’s a concert on Monday evening.”
“Shall we say Tuesday?”
I nodded. “That would work.”
“Fine. Tuesday at 7:30. I will be finished teaching by then. We can go out for dinner.”
“Dinner would be nice."
“But not too much.”
I knew from that comment he expected to have me again. My heart immediately leapt. He’d been so silent on the drive over, I thought I’d displeased him in some way.
“Tuesday, then,” I repeated.
“Yes. I cannot wait.”
Walking up the two flights of stairs to my one-bedroom apartment, my thoughts were very muddled. What had happened was something I had not expected.
I had taken a lover.
_________________It's true what they say about redheads…The recounting of my wife's university affair: viewtopic.php?f=8&t=28088And what has happened more recently: viewtopic.php?f=8&t=30613