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by Des 31 » Sun Nov 14, 2021 1:29 pm
Sunday, 3:30 p.m.:
My wife’s sedan rolled into the garage today a few minutes before noon, an hour before I expected her back, She had phoned me before leaving Rob’s home, so being that early surprised me in that she refuses to drive more than three minutes over any speed limit and more often less. Law enforcement in our region typically allows up to five over the limits. She said the highway traffic was sparse today and she encountered no problems on the road. Neither of us has ever received any sort of traffic ticket unless you count my double-parking violation when I was in a rush to deliver a write-up to a client two years ago. Gigi has no intention of letting me forget that.
She walked in with a wide grin of evident satisfaction, kissed me deeply, and said, “Had a great time. My two nights away seemed like a three-week vacation.” She wore her stretch jeans over beige boots, her tan long-sleeve casual tunic top, topped by her fringed leather hip-length Custer-like leather coat. She dumped her duffel bag onto our bed and began unpacking her minimal travel items. Her hair had been set nicely upon her departure but was now mussed, and she wore no makeup.
Rob’s dog remembered her and followed her everywhere around his apartment throughout her visit. The spaniel jumped into her lap and nuzzled her each time she plopped onto the couch. When teaching classes or engaged in research, Rob leaves his hunting and fishing friend at a pet day-resort to play with other dogs.
In her time away, she and Rob had been to four restaurants and he gave her a tour of the State’s principal university. Her favorite eatery wasn’t the one particularly upscale place they visited but instead a rustic, cabin-like barbecue diner where the staff and half a dozen country-living customers seemed to know Rob like he was an old acquaintance. She was impressed for the reason he was still new in the town, but he plainly makes friends fast.
An older, balding man wearing denim overalls and a fisherman’s vest stopped by their booth where they were eating. He greeted Rob, nodded toward Gigi, and said amiably, “How the hell does a guy like you get a woman like that?” The man and Gigi laughed at Rob’s genial retort, “I told her I’d take her to a high-end restaurant with high-class customers, so here we are with you.” Gigi described the place as “definitely not upscale” but she liked it.
She then realized she hadn’t removed her wedding ring. When the man had walked back to his table, she mentioned that to Rob. He said, “Let them think what they will. Any I consider a friend won’t care.” Admiring his confident assurance, she smiled and said, “Good. I don’t either.”
Here in the city, she no longer will go out with just one man anywhere unless he works with her or she financially deals with him, so this occasion was a rare treat.
They were fucking or enjoying oral sex those days and nights more times than she can recall. One of those was late Saturday afternoon in at a remote, off-road forested area near the diner. While he was humping her from behind, his truck’s CD was blaring an old rock song he had introduced to her on the night they once went camping, The weather was cold, and she was on her knees onto a blanket in the back of his pickup truck. Her jeans laid rumpled aside them and she then was attired only in her pullover top and leather coat. When I said that didn’t seem comfortable, she laughed and said, “I didn’t notice.”
All other sex was at his place, an 800-square-foot apartment at a complex near the university. He prefers small residences that don’t require his time for upkeep, but she says he maintains it as neatly as any she has known. He changed sheets each morning. He makes up his bed astonishingly fast with neat hospital-folds he told her had become a habitual chore learned in the Marines. His final two years of service was as a drill instructor, where he taught new recruits the proper way to make their beds and maintain their sleeping spaces. He placed the top cover over the sheets and said, recapturing his growling DI-tone of voice, “When your bed’s in order, the world’s in order.”
In a dark, early morning, he was fucking her missionary-style. Gigi stared into his eyes and muttered, “Your cock feels so good, Sir!” He grinned and said, “Don’t call me ‘Sir.’ I was no fucking officer.” She giggled and responded, “You fuck good, Sergeant.”
I inquired, “Does he really?” By then, she and I were both naked. She said it doesn’t get any better than with him. I pulled her to our bed and suggested she could compare the two of us as I fucked her. As my dick slid into her opening, she went on to tell me of her days away.
Their first night began with dinner out. As he ushered her into his home, she glanced down to his groin. His cock bulged tightly against his slacks. They had held hands across a restaurant’s table and he had kissed her when they returned to his pickup. Her libido was at its peak. It seemed his stimulation had attained a similar flush of sexual desire. He said, “I think about you a lot.” She responded, “Missed you too. I’m yours tonight.”
They removed their clothing at his bedside. He folded their clothes onto a side chair and kissed her fully on the lips. Gigi’s body shuddered as his stiff dick pressed upward against her stomach. She reached to curl her fist around its circumference and stroked it as she pushed him back onto his bed. She knelt on the floor and took his staff into her mouth. Her lips encircled his cockhead and slid down to its base. Her head bobbed furiously as his pulsing dick filled her oral cavity. When my wife sucks a man’s cock, she feels a sense of control when hearing him groan. She thrills to the throbbing of a cock in her mouth and the feel of it growing as she pleasures him.
As I fucked her, she looked up with widened eyes and moaned with a trill in her voice, “I wanted that man so badly.” I groaned at her remark and said, “I know you did.” I increased my tempo and she cried out in response.
He pulled her to the bed, parted her legs, and mounted her. Gigi screamed as his cock sank full depth into her cunt. His strokes were at first measured but soon thrust rapidly amid her respondent cries. Her heels dug into the mattress. She rotated her hips in rhythm with his fucking.
She sobbed, “I want you to cum in me.” Partly for the reason she doesn’t like condoms, my wife is cautious in who she chooses for sex. Most don’t know that seminal fluid, which makes up most of semen, enters a woman’s blood stream and then the brain. The result does much more than create reproduction. It reduces depression, has an immediate effect on mood and hormone regulation, and much more. A common consequence it that it produces a desire for a woman to sleep after fucking. Perhaps most importantly to my wife and whoever may be her partner, the ultimate result is a bonding between her and the man who’s fucking her.
For all those reasons, my wife always wants men to cum inside her. And, unlike women, men can’t successfully fake an orgasm. Rob didn’t fake it. He was soon sighing and groaning he was about to ejaculate. She cried out, “Oh yes, I want it!”
His jaw slackened and he moaned, “Oh goddd! I’m cumming now!” His lava erupted into her cunt and gushed through the inlet of her tunnel. Her body quivered like a leaf in the wind. She sobbed and whined, “I feel it all.” He pumped her pussy a few more times until his cock had expended his final droplets of semen. He lowered his weight onto Gigi’s body and whispered, “I loved it.” He planted his lips onto hers and she wrapped her arms tightly about his neck. My wife’s hip gyrated slowly as she relished the feeling of his cock deflating in her inflamed cuntal walls. She sighed, “I always love this with you.” Emotionally, she was at the moment one with him and felt he was as one with her.
By the time she reached this point in her narrative, I was cumming hard inside her.
An hour following their reunion sex, she was on her knees as he fucked her from behind. His belly slapped against her buttocks. She masturbated as he plowed into her; and soon, she too was cumming only a minute or so before he again spurted his jizz into her channel. They slept until sometime that early morning when she awoke to straddle his hips and fuck him like a cowgirl on an agreeable pony. As her body rocked above his, she said, “It’s all good, but I like riding you.” Atop another guy, she feels in control. She’s stimulated and rattled while receiving dicks in more submissive positions, but being on top is an alternatively different thrill.
Their sexual enthusiasm peaked each session they fucked over their two days together. At one time or another, they had sex in every imaginable position. My wife said to me, “We had as much sex over a short time as any I remember.”
Her fevered rush when fucking others is essentially as important to me as to her. One difference isn’t just that I’m not the one whose cock is in her at those times. Through her, I imagine both her and the man’s feelings as they’re bumping groins. Somewhere in all that is my knowing the gratification of the guy as he emotionally bonds with my wife. I have an imagined sense of generosity when sharing her with a grateful guy. That surge is as electrifying as the times she and I are fucking.
Turning aside and already knowing her likely answer, I asked how I measured up to Rob. She won’t compare any man to another but chuckled and said, “Telling you about me with other guys is always good.” My question really doesn’t require a candid response. As she has often said in varied ways, “If sex with someone different wasn’t usually better, there would be no point in doing it.” There’s no arguing with logic like that, and I’m happy knowing that anyway.
I asked if she wished to go for a late lunch. She smiled and said, “I need a couple hours of sleep. We can go out to dinner tonight. I would like that.” I should have anticipated her response. From all she had told me, she surely didn’t get her usual hours of shut-eye.
I left her in bed and finished the novel I had begun reading during her absence and then came here to my desktop to write it all up. I’ll check online to find a restaurant we haven’t before visited and plan to give her a night out she won’t forget. I think she’s the best I could have chosen to marry - but I suppose all happily married husbands feel the same about their wives. I hope they do.
I’ll wait another couple of hours before awakening her, and hopefully that will give me enough time to decide what else I can do for her aside from taking her to dinner. I already have a vase of roses hidden under a towel in our kitchen she hasn’t yet seen.
~ Des
and rather an ordinary-looking guy of 19 and at the time he then attended the local university when he first wrote her. Totally inexperienced sexually, he wanted her to teach him what women like. It was much like a mother-son arrangement except that it's more difficult for me to imagine a guy fucking his mom. Under her influence and guidance, he grew into what I considered to be an enviable guy. And they fucked good too. He landed a job in Seattle after his junior year here and the company also paid for his last year of school there. She and her younger friend Beau sometimes also seem like a mom-and-son relationship.
They match up very well.
I once came close to purchasing a year-and-a-half-year-old Corvette and think I mentioned that somewhere here, but Gigi talked me out of it. She said, "There's no sensible reason to impress others who are stopped alongside you at stoplights." Through her work and personal connections, she has friends in the local police and highway patrol offices and has had lunch a few times with two local Sheriff's deputies. One of those is a patrolman assigned to a Mustang cop car with an enhanced engine and loves the speed. He tells her none have ever outrun him, but many have tried. 
