Jade: My Story

[BDJ]

The man, once started, was insatiable; fucking me through a series of climaxes until I didn’t think I could stand any more. Eventually I was able to disengage him long enough to fill my mouth with his beautiful cock. My stallion held my head and directed his stiff phallus into the back of my throat. He was gentle as he used me and I was grateful: his strength could have made it very uncomfortable. But I was fucked out and wanted to end it. Knowing he had the stamina to keep going for a long time I decided to pull out all the stops. I cupped his scrotum, massaging his hanging balls. “Chris,” I asked when I was able to disengage for a moment, “I’ve got an idea. Lay on you back.” He looked at me quizzically but did as I asked. I took a pillow and placed it under his butt before I settled in between his legs. Smiling up at him for a second I again took a cum-laden ball in my mouth, reaching around to also jack his cock. Then I descended, licking his perineum before going lower, to begin tonguing his puckered anal opening. He gasped as I sought to insert my stiffened tongue inside. For minutes that’s all I did, listening to him respond to my efforts. Then I went for it: pushing a saliva-laden finger in while I used my tongue to tickle the spot just below his cock’s urethral opening. I fucked him with my finger, finally rotating my hand as I stroked him. It only took a moment—he gushed like a geyser; first onto my face then into my open mouth. I didn’t let up fucking his ass until he begged me to stop.

For me the respite was needed, “I had to finish you off,” I said, “I’ve had some wild rides in the past but nothing like that.” I smiled over at him, my body suddenly languid with exhaustion. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “Let’s just say it’s the kind of pain a girl can never get enough of,” I responded laughingly.

“Come on,” he said, let’s get some sleep.” I looked over at him, an astonished look on my face. “I thought you’d have to leave, you know, once we…you can stay?” I questioned, my heart suddenly in my throat. He nodded seriously. “Cath told me not to come home until I had safely deposited you at the airport. The kids are at her parents and Jack will be staying over.” He sounded wistful and I wondered about their relationship. “So Jack screws Cath a lot?” I asked. “She must stay worn out, what with you wanting to reclaim her afterwards.” He looked sheepish, as if he didn’t want to answer. “Come on, Chris,” I said, lightly punching his arm, “no secrets, OK?” Almost as if he were trying to distract me he began nuzzling my neck, giving me little kisses and nibbling on my ear. “Give,” I admonished, pulling away from him.

Still he waited. I hadn’t known I was holding my breath until I heard it escape after he spoke, “Cath and I aren’t having sex anymore,” he almost whispered. “She’s exclusive to him and he to her. It’s a pact between them as long as he’s not screwing anyone else.” “That seems extreme,” I replied. He continued, “It’s so they can fuck without a condom, you see. Well, that and she said he’s her boyfriend now and feels she’d be betraying him if we…” he paused, the look on his face casting his words with hurt, “if we have sex or even cuddled,” I nodded. “Oh, Chris,” I said, my voice full of sympathy. I pulled him close, putting his head against my breast. In an effort to get our closeness back I replied, “Well, she gave you to me, so she’s not being completely heartless.” He smiled; that comment seemed to bring back some of the brightness to his demeanor.

Sleep didn’t take me though, even after Chris had fallen into a deep slumber. I kept having visions of Cath, screaming in orgasm, her body convulsing as she surrendered to Jack’s pummeling cock. Remembering how much I had wanted to continue with Stretch, I couldn’t help wondering what would happen to her when it ended. But right now I was concerned about Chris and was determined to give him something special in our final hours together. With that thought I quietly removed myself from his embrace and retired to the bathroom, a plan forming in my mind.

The late morning light filled the bedroom and I smelled the wonderful aroma of coffee. Chris was laying dishes and cutlery on the small kitchen table along with a tray of scones, cheeses, and other delights. “Where did this come from?” I queried, accepting a cup of java. “A bakery,” was all he would laughingly say. Soon we were sated for awhile, then happy to engage in the mundane chore of cleaning up. I was naked, seeing no reason to cover up when I fully intended to get him in bed with me again. Feeling frisky, and with the residual glow still warming me from our lovemaking, I pressed against his back and wrapped my arms around his waist. One hand naturally found his cock, the other began the awkward task of unbuttoning his shirt. “I want it again,” I whispered seductively. I pressed my pelvis against his ass, “Mister big cock wants me too, doesn’t it?” I teasingly said while raising up on tip-toes, intent on licking his neck. “Cath’s probably getting Jack’s really big one right now,” I breathed into his ear, “Thinking about it makes me wet. But I want yours.” My hands tried to get his belt undone. “Please Chris,” I begged, thrusting repeatedly against his ass, breathing hard now—once again his bitch in heat.

He twisted in my grip and picked me up easily. The next thing I knew I was sprawled on my back in the middle of the bed. I opened my legs to him, eager for his hard cock to fill me. While I was focused on him tearing off his clothes I was thinking of how he had reacted to me mentioning Jack fucking Cath. I wondered if teasing him about it would make him crazy. He stood over me, that magnificently stiff cock bobbing on its own—my words had brought a wild look to his eyes. “Give it to me,” I challenged, my arms open, “hard…I want it really hard!” What followed was unlike anything I had ever experienced: the forcefulness of it was similar to that night in the red-neck’s pickup, but Chris’s muscular body, energy, and stamina made that experience seem puny by comparison. And yet it wasn’t violent or uncaring—feeling his cock pistoning into my pussy was so different—and far, far better.

“I don’t know where that came from,” Chris said as he looked up at the ceiling. I was staring up too, exhausted after our marathon of sex. We were laying, breath still heaving, taking a pause,—all that and the man still hadn’t cum—when I put my plan into action. “Chris,” I questioned, “Has Cath given you or Jack her ass?” He perked up and positioned himself on one elbow before replying, “I’ve never had it but Jack has,” his face showing a trace of sadness, “She even gave it to him one night when I was watching them in bed together.” “Do you want it too?” I asked as I traced a finger around one of his nipples before reaching to suck it, teasing it before going further. “Very much, but she won’t even hug me now; she’s Jack’s woman, heart and soul.” Seeing a way to cement our time together in his memory, I replied, “I’ve had it from several others besides Walker.” I moved up so my mouth was next to his ear, “Would you like it too?” I breathed, then gently bit his earlobe. “You can brag to Jack you’ve had mine and he never will.”

Moments later I was in position on my knees at the edge of the bed with my weight on my elbows, my ass lined up with Chris’s tumescent member. My head was to the side, almost touching the mattress, making it just possible to get a glimpse of Chris as I looked awkwardly at the dressers’ tilted mirror. “How did Jack fuck her ass?” I asked, then a wicked idea came to mind, “No, better still, explain while you’re doing it to me the same way.”

He stood behind me, his hands caressing my posterior: “He kissed the perineum towards her ass using both hands to spread her cheeks,” Chris began, “then his tongue licked around her pink button.” My breath quickened as I felt him doing just that. I listened intently as his tongue did its magic. “He inserted a soaking wet finger right up to his second knuckle and started to finger fuck her ass while using his other hand to finger her pussy.” I was now breathing heavily: his fingers in both my holes sent shocks of pleasure radiating out from my ass. I reached for my clit,—hard with need now—and rapidly vibrated it: my breath coming increasingly ragged as I ascended, senses becoming saturated with the shocks of energy permeating my genitals. The force of our actions rapidly took me to my plateau—primed for release—I just needed one last nudge. “Slap my ass,” I cried, pleading, wanting the pain, crazy to feel it.

At first he didn’t follow through, but I was insistent, I yelled, “I need it!” That did it; the deep shock as his open palm struck the fullness of my buttock took me over the top. “Yes, yes,” I screamed, “Baby Jesus, yes!!” My orgasm consumed me. Chris never stopped finger-fucking me as I withered through my climax. When I’d somewhat recovered I was ready for his cock to penetrate my backdoor. I almost quivered with the expectation of what was to happen, to give this luscious man my ultimate gift—my desire keeping me on edge—it wouldn’t take much to trigger more orgasms. The cool liquid of the lube prepared me and we went through the process of getting three of his fingers past my sphincter. Finally I was ready.

I could see in the mirror Chris standing behind me, hands gripping my waist—I could feel the pressure from his broad knob—I relaxed, then pushed back, my sphincter’s muscles gave. At my urging he gave a sudden push and was halfway inside. “Do you really want me to do everything like Jack?” he asked, his voice uncertain, “He wasn’t gentle…far from it.” “Yes,” I replied, “Just like…” I couldn’t say anymore—caught up now in the hotness of it—really imagining Jack was behind me. My voice became almost pleading, “I want to be Cath!”

[BDJ]

Readers,
An aside is due here, I think. Until the introduction of Chris, Cath, and Jack into the storyline the narrative had followed a mix of reality dressed up with a liberal amount of fantasy. Here it is a creative effort to include a person who I have come to admire into the mix as a thank you for his support. The actions and much of the narrative from Chris is taken from his story during that time Cath was fully under Jack's spell. And while I portray the sex as very rough I took the clue from his account of Jack's roleplaying with Cath. Chris, I don't think, would have done it that way.

That said, the following segment completes this chapter. Many thanks to Chris and Cath for allowing me to include them.

[BDJ]

I don’t know what I was expecting but what happened next wasn’t it. The shock of the first strike startled me—then his harsh voice: ”Take this you fucking slut, this is what a whore deserves, you need taming and I'm here to do it.” He continued to taunt me, the flat of his hand landing another hard blow on my still stinging cheek. More blows followed as his cock rammed into my back door, his balls bumping my rump at the end of every thrust—my face buried in the mattress, whimpering, overwhelmed by the orgasmic wave suddenly going though my body. My pain and pleasure released me: I gave myself fully to it—arms outstretched now, clutching the sheets—breathing heavily. He was a machine. It became too much: orgasms followed one another without pause. Still, I urged him to continue, even while futilely holding one hand against his thigh.

Then it was over, his crescendo filling my rectum with cum—warm liquid pooling, overflowing, exploding my climax to a new, higher level—leaving me quivering uncontrollably. I couldn’t move, couldn’t react to the sudden void as he withdrew, my euphoria still holding me firmly in its grip. I began quietly sobbing.

“Jade?” Chris said, the concern evident in his voice, “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” His hands were on my shoulders, bending close. “I’m fine,” I replied, trying to stop, “It’s just that, that…” the sobs broke through—I was unable to control them. He pulled me up and helped me stand, then held me close, not speaking again. When I got myself back together…got to thinking straight and not lost to the intense emotions that had seemed to come from nowhere: I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. It wasn’t meant to be passionate, but one that expressed gratitude. “Don’t worry about me,” I finally said as I moved my head against his broad chest, “just hold me a minute.”

“I loved it that first time,” I said, pausing before continuing, “Stew opened my legs, but also my eyes, to what it meant to be truly fucked. I wanted it again and my husband couldn’t do it, it’s that simple.” We were out in the garden after a sensuous shower together, settled beside each other in some antique wicker chairs. He was dressed but I had wanted to stay naked. Chris vetoed that, cautious because he thought someone might be able to catch a glimpse of me through the thick hedge. For the past few minutes we had been comparing notes—he was especially interested in my progression from innocent to the woman he had just fucked. “You never struck me as being cock hungry. I could tell you were trying to keep our relationship above reproach. Do you always control your urges so well?” he said. I thought, have I? I didn’t want to get into a long explanation but saw it was the only way that would fully explain how I had come to be a slut for the right man.

For the longest time we talked about me. It ended with a recitation of my disastrous liaison in an old pickup truck with a big-bellied redneck. “I scared myself then, scared Walker even more. It’s funny, the longer I have been here, away from my husband, denied that kind of sex—and the more I have become infatuated with you—the less I crave losing control like that.” His response surprised me, “I’ve seen it recently in Cath—when she is with Jack—once she lost all sense of my presence during our only threesome. I’m concerned as to where it might ultimately lead when Jack is out of the picture. Does Walker have any reason to worry about you?” “He doesn’t now," I admitted, “Last night changed me. I know I can never have you—wouldn’t ever try—you’re Cath’s man…lucky girl. But I realize Walker could be more like you, I think, if I helped.” I crossed the short space between our chairs, sat on his lap, kissed him tenderly then said: “Thank you for caring.”

Whomever coined the term parting is such sweet sorrow probably didn’t have the type of separation I had with Chris in mind. In the span of twenty-four hours we had gone from friends to lovers, then back to friends again. He was all gentleman and very proper at the airport; just a good guy giving a lift to help out. We only allowed ourselves a quick, friendly hug before he passed me off to the passport officials. Then it was over and he was out of my life. I couldn’t help looking back one last time; I gave a heartfelt sigh even as my pussy responded to the sight of his broad back; his tight butt. Turning to resume my place in line, I resigned myself to a return to my old life.

[Chrislydi]

My God BDJ there's magic in that brain of yours.

Cath has been snuggled up and can't stop saying how she couldn't believe she was actually so cruel while repeating the mantra 'how could I ever do that' ad infinitum. I've not let her take all the blame and said it was all my fault for recklessly pushing an agenda on to her and our inability to cope. - Tbf I'm loving having her so affectionate and clingy. - I said you've worked magic.

Thank your marvellous wife Jade for just being Jade which is now synonymous with perfection for me. I hope you found her in good spirits and lusting after her only real true lover and hubby when she came home - if not I'm blaming it on Jack

We loved it all and thank you both very much

Chris and Cath.

[BDJ]

My construction of the whole episode was organic. I immersed myself in your story, especially the dialogue (if you read your story again you'd find those words coming out of your mouth.) To me (and Jade) Cath always has been a great lady (sexy as hell but still never slutty.) I wanted to show how she loved you enough to let you screw a little hottie she probably saw from day one wanted you. Even with her total infatuation with Jack--even then she cared for you.

And now it has happened. Sammie is the real Jade. You lucky dog.

[Chrislydi]

John,
It's readers like you who drive me. I find myself pushing, editing more aggressively to try to get it right: in tone, wording, and setting up future events. I sometimes think being in the Library is akin to being the owner of a specialty sweets shop: the traffic outside the window is consistently there but only a select few--those who just have to have that particular confection no matter what--come in to buy. Thanks for your comments.

Exactly, the likes of Aaardvarsky's From Norway with love and your Jade series are the jewels in the crown. Maybe the casual visitor to the site takes the more popular routes to other sections but within the library is the real treasure. Your exceptionally vivid and erotic descriptions give flesh and bones to both the real life memories and fictional fantasies, thereby enabling the reader to escape the everyday humdrum in an enjoyable and quite exquisite flight of fancy.

BDJ is a quite exceptional writer who we're lucky to have on this site.

Chris

[john jasson]

I sometimes think being in the Library is akin to being the owner of a specialty sweets shop: the traffic outside the window is consistently there but only a select few--those who just have to have that particular confection no matter what--come in to buy. Thanks for your comments.

I love the way the metaphors and vivid imagery pour out of you, BDJ. You paint pictures with words astonishingly well, and they are panoramic vistas in Technicolor at that. Great work.

I'll be honest. I understand fully that it is written as a tribute, but personally I have struggled a little with the crossover of Jade with Chris and Cath. I can't put my finger on what it is that jars with me, but I had them happily and erotically on separate tracks and suddenly they merged onto one which I wasn't ready for. Maybe blew a gasket in my brain! Anyway, that's just me. Thanks once more for your prolific and excellent output. As I have just posted to Aardvarky's thread, we are indeed blessed with a profusion of contributors with outstanding talent for erotica here at the moment.

[BDJ]

John Jasson,

Including Chris's story was something I began to envision when he mentioned once after a segment that he wanted to go back in time to that moment and be the man pleasuring Jade. I broached it to him and they agreed it was acceptable to join the two threads so I could give voice to that sentiment. And there was a need to change the trajectory of Jade's ever-escalating need for a particular sexual experience. Having her infatuated with, then discovering Chris's brand of compassionate-yet-vigorous sex helped her to see a new direction for the fulfillment of her libido.

Thanks for the tribute: "I love the way the metaphors and vivid imagery pour out of you, BDJ. You paint pictures with words astonishingly well, and they are panoramic vistas in Technicolor at that. Great work." Until I decided to chronicle our life, with it's variety of sharing experiences, I had no idea I had the ability to do that. My wife told me I couldn't just tell a factual story: she feared being recognized. So I settled on snippets of both events and time to move the story from beginning to end. Then, as the work progressed, I found my voice as a storyteller had become equally important to me. I hope I haven't put too many people off by incorporating a riveting story by another writer whom I have come to admire with mine.

As you know, I played with aaardvarky's thread also (with his permission.) It was a way to contribute after you and Chris did the heavy lifting of interpretation. I really admire your writing ability, (equally the good advice you gave). You and Sherrie have set the standard for both telling a compelling story but also to jarring us into pondering the underpinnings that make up your successful marriage. Sometimes, for me, that food for thought superseded the descriptive action you're so good at describing.

I am glad you're reading my story and voicing your thoughts. It reinforces the gratification I feel at being a member of this tight-knit community.

[BDJ]

Chapter 4

Fallen Angel

On the long flight across the Atlantic in the somewhat isolated and unaccustomed comfort of first class—the faint hum of the jet’s engines having lulled me into a half-sleep—my semi-conscious mind decided to bring forth a review of my life: to examine it, seeking equilibrium. Memorable moments of seemingly random events arose to be studied: jumbled puzzle-pieces strewn across my inner-vision. They wouldn’t leave me alone, but danced disturbingly about beneath my eyelids, then began self-sorting as the snippets of memory strung into a linear progression: an adolescent being shown her brother’s penis, a young teen shocked at her first pillow-induced orgasm, a newly wed ingénue enduring her husband’s clumsy wedding night lovemaking…these images sharpened in clarity, expanding into moving pictures, filling the blackness behind my tightly closed eyes. They were a series of firsts: Stew’s cock causing a screaming orgasm, the helplessness of total surrender to Jeff’s dominating will, the unexpected ecstasy from Lauren’s touch. Now the foundation was laid—disturbing revelations—as more pieces of my life’s puzzle dropping in place: a spiraling descent from unchecked wantonness into total debauchery at the hands of Stretch and a vulgar redneck, then my compulsive need for submission without restraint to any man able to recognize it in me. Then the final picture revealed: an overwhelming desire to surrender my soul, not to my husband, but to my latest lover. I could sense my body tensing up, even in rest, somehow anticipating the emotional impact of these final memory fragments. It came as a searing light into my consciousness: I had been an innocent girl transformed by those experiences into a used, emotionally corrupted woman.

I emerged from my self-reflection exhausted; confused as to where my heart would now take me, other than returning to a disappointing marriage. The implications…no, my mind refused to go there. It was almost too much to bear—I just wanted to be at peace: in my heart and with my love.

Despite the cramped nature of an airplane toilet I was able to make myself presentable to Walker. I must have looked good to him when he picked me up at the airport because, after giving me a big kiss, he swung me around in increasingly faster circles,—raising my short skirt enough to flash my ass to all and sundry—telling me how much he missed me. At home he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, not that I wanted him to. But the long flight from England, over nine hours, gave me a serious case of jet-lag and I fell asleep with his cock in my mouth; well, maybe not, things got kind of fuzzy that night. I do remember how much fun we had the next morning. We couldn’t leave each other alone the whole day—it was magical.

But Walker was still Walker, and after I told him of my night with Chris it became the catalyst for many more nights of hot sex. He didn’t know it was the memory of laying in Chris’s arms afterward that put me over the top, not sharing the details of the way he used his cock on me.

And even though we’d done a lot of reconnecting after I returned—good hard sex—I sensed Walker wanted to continue our game of putting me out there on the hunt. The experience of making love to Chris and telling him the story of my sexual proclivity gave me a changed outlook: I wanted my husband to just want me. Unfortunately, Walker was so initially wrought up in the story of yet another extramarital affair he didn’t fully grasp the importance of what I’d said. But finally he did acknowledge it, and at my insistence we spent the next months living without any erotic bedtime stories. I could sense his restlessness but loved him more for respecting my wishes. The downside was sex that was less than stellar. I was content with that…but over time realized he wasn’t ever going to get over his need for that type of stimulus. To regain our shared sense of harmony I decided to acquiesce and we gradually fell back into the old pattern of life before England—the one that included sharing me.

This time around, he wanted us to attend house parties. He explained I might get the type of sex I wanted and he’d not only be able to watch me with other men but with women as well. I decided to give it my best, even though I didn’t think it would be any better than those anonymous hook-ups we’d had when swinging.

The first one we attended was different from being at a swinger’s club. We started off by playing a game. The hostess led each of the blindfolded women to kneel before a hole in a sheet hung over a doorway. Each man pushed his hard cock through and had it briefly serviced. The goal was to successfully guess which one belonged to her husband. No problem for me: Walker was at least two inches longer than anyone else. And in other ways it was a different approach to sex from swinging: very little foreplay, just being passed from one man to another. Later, I had a threesome with a husband and wife, but really only enjoyed her touch. Laying facing each other, feeling her, kissing her sweetly, allowed me to disengage and surrender myself—I so missed Lauren.

Later, at home in our bed Walker told me his greatest thrill was from eating my ass while I was on top of some nameless someone: forcing his tongue past my sphincter, and yes, from actively licking cock, even accepting it in his mouth. I was so turned on by that revelation that I kept asking him to repeat his admission: he had willingly sucked a man’s cock. My fevered brain went further into overdrive at each telling—finally causing me to spontaneously orgasm without touching myself.

But after attending a series of parties at different homes in the following years, I got to dread seeing his excitement as we planned attendance at yet another one—that first one had been the best—I knew this was not what I needed. They left me frustrated, unsatisfied with myself or him, until I was ready to quit the whole thing. I found myself rethinking my decision to rededicate myself to Walker and his needs. If that was going to be the defining feature of our life together—well, I hated it, and decided maybe it was time to end it all.

I chose to tell him when we were returning from a vacation. The week had been full of family events surrounded by lazy days on the beach; an annual event back to where Walker grew up. The late October sun had been shining in my eyes, forcing me look over toward my husband to escape it as I begun to speak those life-shattering words. He kept glanced at me, afraid to have his attention stray too long from the road: listening intensely as I spoke, the tension in his tall frame evident by the way his arms were gripping the wheel. Then I said it—I wanted out of our marriage. Vacation forgotten—the joy of visiting family members long unseen—he became entirely focused on my statement. Seeing his distress I qualified my ultimatum by explaining that I still cared for him but that it wasn’t enough now. “I’m bewildered,” he said, a confused look on his face. “Where did this come from, I mean, why haven’t you told me before this was bugging you.” He wouldn’t, perhaps couldn’t, remember hearing my earlier concerns. It made me so sad: I felt defeated, isolated.

My husband became quiet, the impact of my words finally sinking in. He was genuinely stunned at the thought my frustration had led to this. “Walker,” I reached across and put my hand on his arm, “I’m sorry.” Several miles went by on that empty stretch of interstate, just the sound of wheels on pavement breaking up the stillness pervading the car’s interior. “But you used to like it,” he said, in a voice that both accused but also begged for validation. “You fell in love with Stew, for god’s sake. Don’t tell me you wish that had never happened.” It was exactly the right thing to say. For if there was one man I had definitely had a soft spot for it was Stew. We agreed he had been a wonderful addition to our marriage. Having admitted to that I was open to talking about both Jeff and Stretch—I chose to leave out the fat-pricked redneck—and how I came to crave their thick cocks. The confession somehow brought us in sync… but I kept returning to the fact those good times were in the past, my need for them finished after my experience with Chris. I didn’t want to do it anymore, I told my husband unequivocally, it caused too much stress.

There was a long pause and I thought our conversation had ended. But Walker was like a dog with a bone now I had confirmed that fucking other men had once excited me. “How about now? he said. “Anyone interested in you?” I had retreated to the sanctity of a blank mind, my eyes unfocused on the terrain whizzing by. That was why his sudden question prompted me to answer truthfully, without thought—though long afterwards I wished I had lied. “Maybe,” I said. “Who?” he asked eagerly, his intense stare lingering on me when his eyes should have returned to the road. “I don’t know,” I sighed, defeated by my spontaneous honesty, “There’s Michael, a cute guy in my night class at the college. I think he might be flirting with me.” “Flirt back,” Walker almost pleaded, “It can’t hurt, who knows where it might lead.” I thought about that statement: Michael was a high school art teacher, so we already had a lot in common. I didn’t want to tell Walker he and I had spent much of the semester talking during breaks. Until now, it hadn’t mattered: I had brushed off his obvious interest. Wishing I had never admitted it, scared now of the implications but…dire thoughts of life without Walker stayed my concerns. I found myself tense, afraid to let my eyes meet his. “O.K.,” I told him, and we left it that.

Walker remained eager, but I wouldn’t let myself think of my promise until the day of my night class. Still, I took a little more care with my school outfit—a pair of stretchy leotards topped by an altered man’s dress shirt with rolled up sleeves—where I normally wore jeans, boots, and a work T-shirt. When Walker noted my altered attire I admitted to being worried the 'cute guy' might not get my change of attitude, might have decided I wasn’t worth pursuing anymore. “You’ve still got it, Jade,” he said as he moved behind me and put his arms around my waist, kissing my neck. I paused, uneasy at the image I saw in the mirror, and began to harshly judge myself. The realization that the success of our sex life had almost from the beginning hinged on me being slutty wouldn’t leave me. I felt like a hypocrite.

“Well,” he asked as soon as I returned home, my feet scarcely in the door, “how did it go?” I smiled and replied, “He’s interested, all right.” “Did you flirt?” he asked. “I did,” came my answer, feeling good we were connecting again. “It turned out he had been waiting for me to signal I liked his attention, so when I responded he moved fast,” I explained, “He suggested we take a walk during break. We ended up between two buildings where he pushed me up against a wall and gave me a hard kiss. He seemed a little surprised when I put my arms around his neck and gave him one back. That kept us busy until we returned to class.” “I take it you liked it,” Walker said. I nodded, then replied, “He never felt me or anything, but I definitely got the idea he wanted to go further.” My husband beamed as he declared, “I hope he follows up then.” I smiled, pleased by his eagerness, then got against him, slipped my hand into his pants and started to rub his rapidly expanding cock, “You like the idea of me giving up my married pussy again, don’t you,” I said, the old lust for adventure rising in me. I gave him a kiss that let him know, in no uncertain terms, what I wanted right then.

If you define following up as being invited to his house after the final class, then I guess Michael did. I had a hard time keeping up on the 20 minute trip and experienced butterflies in my stomach the whole way. This is crazy, I thought as I negotiated the winding road before me. Why am I doing it…again. All I’ve ever really wanted was Walker—well, maybe a few others too. But it was addictive, I admitted to myself, sampling the cock of a new man was such a high. Perhaps this guy would be one of the few who made me lose control. I shivered from a feeling of both anticipation and dread. Too late now, I realized, I agreed to do it. Then an unsettling observation: Walker had always let his penis lead him a little, even when he was reading me—guiding me into situations that gave voice to my unconscious desires—and I always gave in. But look at what happened with Stretch: that resulted in my barroom lover. Walker had been wrong then. I sighed, worried. Then my spirits buoyed at the possibility of an alternative outcome, and suddenly I was determined not to lose the rapidly diminishing car in front of me: I could be following another Chris.

[Chrislydi]

I'm almost staggering under the weight of doing justice to such a self reflective piece of intense introspection. The why's and wherefore's of past decisions and circumstantial events, the paths taken and the subsequent consequences, the where we were and where we are now, how did it happen and do I really want what we've become?
It's almost easier tackling the meaning of life itself but such are the questions our heroine asks herself. The results aren't universally good or bad but predictably there are the regrets and the very serious doubts as to their future direction. If it's now determined to be largely the wrong path, then why keep travelling it? Jade is desperately trying to find or hold onto something, and some are more unfairly being targetted, suffering the fall out and collateral damage in the process.

Walker has been the man who has journeyed down what she now perceives as a less than perfect path, he perhaps was her main guide and confidante, persuading her it's what they should do, and it's this sense of alienation with what she now feels unhappy about that is projected onto him. It's now seen as largely his fault and his character and decision making that's been so erroneous. Jade knows she cares and loves her Walker very deeply despite her unsettled state, indeed she goes along with their plans in an effort to find some contentment. It's never easy to admit it isn't working all those years and after so much time has past, that the connection built up isn't what it should be, Jade realises she wants something different and is now searching to find the solution. A new direction maybe, but one thing's for certain a new page has been turned.

I left it off this note originally such are the standards we now expect as a matter of course from BDJ, but it would be churlish not to acknowledge the great skill and attention the master has lavished on this particularly difficult piece. The tone of doubt, confusion, acceptance and reappraisal are all captured to a tee, every thought of Jade's is isolated and examined as the maelstrom of torment swirls around us.

Chris

[Johng1953]

I know the time with Chris was obviously fiction but it does seem to mark a change in Jade after a period of intense reflection on her life. I was shocked to read that she wanted out of her marriage. I'm not sure though whether she was unhappy because she regrets what she's done or if it's because she's trying to suppress a part of herself.
You said at the start Jade was loosely based on your wife and so I can only surmise you faced at least a little bumpy ride at this time in your own relationship which you survived, so I'm hopeful therefore that Walker and his Jade survive this too.

[BDJ]

Sometimes the words I use for Jade are the ones actually spoken. Your observations are correct.

BDJ

[BDJ]

Finally I was there and found myself seated on his sofa while he visited the toilet. When we had arrived I was struck by how small the house was. The living room was tiny, only saved from being claustrophobic by being sparsely furnished. He didn’t appear to have much, which was odd since he was single. No matter, I thought, refusing to let it bother me—after all, I admonished myself, all I wanted was his body. Still, as I waited for his return, I couldn’t help comparing him with Walker. He was small: about five-foot-eight, as opposed to my husband’s six-foot-two. I loved looking at his sexy physique: both men in very good shape, though I had detected the beginnings of a beer gut in Michael. Then there was his hairy body. I had teasingly asked once if the profuse display on his arms indicated an equally hirsute chest; something I found highly erotic on a man but Walker lacked. He had unbuttoned his shirt to show me, it was so glorious that I had to put my hand on him. That’s when I realized his compact frame hid as muscular a body as my mate: something not apparent from a casual glance. Sitting there, just thinking about it, had caused my pussy to tingle.

I decided to take off my shoes and he heard them drop as he was returning. His voice held a chuckle, observing, “I love the sound of shoes hitting the floor.” When he had settled close beside me my body reacted: I was suddenly as tense as a coiled spring. Yes, I had been in this position before but there was something about him that made this time different. As he removed his shoes the butterflies returned to my stomach—I craved him, wanted his touch, but would I measure up? At forty-four, I was older than him by five years; and even though my work had kept my body toned and fit, I knew it couldn’t compare to the much younger women I was sure he also attracted.

He turned to me, pulled me in close…and we kissed. I melted into his embrace. When we parted he casually commented, “I knew you’d come.” I adverted my eyes, admitting, “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me,” then quickly added, “I was surprised you took me between the buildings.” “Yeah,” he replied, “That was chancy. But married or not, I’d decided I had to have you. You were just too tempting.” That admission encouraged me: I looked in his eyes, glad I saw hunger but also a hint of humor. It made me melt—I hungered for him too. I reached to pull his head to me, then smothered him with a kiss that let him know I craved his touch. We stayed that way for the next few minutes, but he wasn’t idle—his fingers had made their way under my skirt. I just moaned and let it happen—my legs relaxing of their own volition. Soon his hand breached my panties and he was probing my moist peach—his fingers began their educated dance: teasing, probing, stroking. I slid down a little, one leg involuntarily found itself draped over his, spreading myself for him, thighs open now, welcoming. Any effort to think, to judge what was happening disappeared, replaced by mindless need. I grabbed the edge of a cushion, clutched it for dear life when he dipped his fingers into my wet sex, suddenly pushed deep. Electric shocks began emulating from my vagina in time with his thrusts: I was lost.

He looked at me, so eager: spay-legged and half reclining on his sofa, hips making tiny rotations on his fingers, mewling sounds already coming from my mouth. “You’re easy, you know that?” he said teasingly. Startled, I looked at him. Was he mocking me? Innocent or not, his words stung. It was as if cold water had been splashed on me. I looked up at him dumbly. “I’m easy?” I responded when I finally found my voice. We stared at each other, me trying to read the intent of those words. Fear immediately overrode lust: was I going to lose my chance even before we began? I questioned myself. Was it that easy to get into my panties? Thinking for a second, I realized: yes, it certainly looked that way. But what did that mean: less desirable than someone who played hard to get? Maybe he was looking for more than sex and my eagerness was a mark against me. Whatever made me say it, I don’t know, but I tugged his hand from between my legs, scooted up a little so I was sitting upright and looked at him defiantly. “So I’m a slut. Easy. A fallen angel. What did you expect from a woman who’s so transparently eager to cheat on her husband?”

He was taken aback. We faced off for a moment, my flared nostrils giving away my anger. I waited, uncertain as to what would happen next. At that moment I didn’t care. A look of respect briefly crossed his features before he responded, his voice taking on a humorous tinge: “Feisty, I like that. So maybe you’re not easy, just willing.” His smile indicated a desire to reset the moment back to his advantage, calculating, determining how best to get what he wanted—what I too wanted. His hand gently stroked my cheek, his sudden look of concern evident as he continued, “Sorry, I was out of line.” I relaxed, relieved my readiness for him and response to his remark hadn’t put him off. It was if the air in the room had been exchanged, the tension removed. His caressing hand became a tender kiss. At its end he whispered, a new huskiness to his voice, “Unbutton your shirt.” His look said it all. “Show me your tits,” his voice had acquired a determined edge. Breathing a sigh of relief I eagerly complied, my nipples suddenly erect. He bent to suck them. I showed my appreciation by cradling his head in my hands, moaning as he worshiped me; eager to show my approval. His hand cupped my other breast. I loved the way he licked my nipples, then covered my whole areola, applying suction, drawing it into his mouth—so sweet was that gesture—almost as if he were a baby suckling at his mother’s teat.

I looked in his eyes when he raised up. Our mouths met. I put my arms around his neck, pressing my mouth onto his. Hungry, I was so hungry for him. It was an act of surrender—I willingly gave myself to him then—completely. I continued his kiss, forcing my tongue into his mouth, and moaned, expressing my need. His renewed stimulation of my pussy jolted, aroused, energized me. I was soon completely bent to his will—more than ready when he got up and led me to his bedroom.

[Chrislydi]

Having been through all the ins and outs, the why's and wherefores, the real doubts about her marriage and the first utterances of that doubt, that questioning of their marriage and the pathway they had followed. Jade has almost reluctantly decided to follow on a little further, afraid of the alternative, the unknown and a life without Walker. The greatest introspection she's ever had to go through has only given her more questions and no real conclusive answers, a case of more the devil you know than setting off on a more precarious and dangerous road.

However it's still Jade, the same Jade left with all those same insatiable urges and desires she sometimes finds irresistible, the control over them can never be total, that itch builds and Walker unfortunately knows only other better equipped men can scratch it. She's been encouraged and almost goaded into continuing the less certain pathway and the inevitable drama that might entail. The itch, the insatiable desire has reached a point where she wants it and Michael has been suggested by both of them as a probable candidate. There also surely must be an element of entitlement to consider too, having had all these feelings exposed and made raw largely for the benefit of fulfilling others fantasies and certainly with their full knowledge and encouragement, it has to be right that she gets the chance to give them full expression. Jade knows Michael may be suited temperamentally both having an artistic bent and having had an aborted trial run, so this now in his house with the desires and commitment from both sides obvious, is where this volatile crackajack of emotions is about to find expression.

I liked the way Jade stood her ground when Michael accused her of being easy, noone knows the full build up, the outside pressures and full context of every emotion Jade feels, what compels her to go in this direction, but those who have followed her journey can see the inevitability and how blameless she really is. Jade is a good woman who has had her full sexual awakening and it isn't always so much a choice as a compulsion, the guidance and route she took had many influences, there's a sense of destiny through no real fault of her own - it's where she's come to and has no choice.

As always it's splendidly captured by BDJ, he just keeps on becoming a more accomplished writer.with each new chapter.

Chris

[BDJ]

Chris,

Thanks for the brilliant summation and analysis of Jade and her journey. It's funny that this, the most painful part to remember and recount, is the part that rings most true to me. I find that I need to color the action with her real feelings for him. This isn't a made up Jade, it's a picture of my wife...who is discovering her attraction a decidedly sexy man, one I did encourage her to screw. Played with fire then. If you read on you'll eventually find out how.

BDJ

[Johng1953]

This whole lifestyle is playing with fire really. I'm looking forward with some trepidation now as to how this develops.
Mind you, he's lucky it is developing, hardly the brightest move telling a woman she's easy while you have your hand in her knickers!

[BDJ]

Johng1953,

Her susceptibility to his charms was the result, I think, of a confluence of so many factors in our life at the time: professional and personal. Once the affair got established her resulting confidence boost changed the dynamics of our relationship for a time. She was attractive sexually and she knew it. She was more forceful, using access to her charms to get her way. And she'd get moments of feistiness too, in response to things unwanted and unliked. That's where the 'easy' scene came from.

[BDJ]

My clothes came off quickly—he was pulling my blouse off my shoulders even as I fumbled with the skirt’s zipper. Quivering, I stood before his lustful gaze, my nipples already full and projecting through the lace of my bra. That flimsy piece of molded cloth came next. I turned from him and held my long hair aside, offering him the privilege. His arms encircled me first, cupping my bosoms, testing their fullness; then I felt the tender touch of his lips on my shoulder and base of my neck: soft nibbles—my head turned and twisted to meet him in a passionate kiss. This was finally happening—my mind reeling at the realization—all the months of small talk and shy attraction leading to this: surrendering my body to his strong hands. With a quick flick of his fingers the flimsy garment encasing my breasts loosened and fell to the floor. I was breathing heavily now, anticipation marking me. He turned me around, his hands again cupping my tits, teasing my nipples before sliding down my torso, kneeling as he hooked the fabric of my panties in his fingers; sliding them down and off. I held the back of his head as he kissed my bare pubic mound, a gasp escaping me when his tongue delved between the butterfly-shaped petals of my inner lips, lapping at my nectar.

Even though I was weak from his tongues’ attention, I took his hands in mine, urging him to his feet. I needed to see his body, needed to touch him, kiss his chest—caress it. It only took a second to pull his shirt over his head. God, he was sexy; all hairy, muscles clearly defined under bronzed skin. My new lover worked shirtless in the sun, I saw. It only made him more desirable. I was only able to pull at his belt before he took over; his trousers quickly discarded. He drew me to him, forcefully kissing me before pressing me backward to the edge of the bed. Reaching down, he spread my legs and stepped in between.

My face was now level with his distended cock—upwardly thrust, looking as if were eager to escape from the fabric of his tighty-whities. I focused intently as I pulled them down, eager to claim my prize. Once his cock was free it sprang forward, hard and proud. Fascinated, I closely examined my new toy. Compared to my other lovers his was unique. Though only about five inches long, the slim shaft was topped by an oversized mushroom shaped head, larger than my husbands. His cock didn’t look anything like Walkers’ long one, or resemble any of the others I had experienced. I lost my focus, momentarily wondering if such a strangely shaped cock could please me.

I felt his hand on the back of my head. I took the hint, grasped his hips and pulled his cock into my open mouth, repressing my gag reflex until my lips touched his groin. The broad head filled me up unlike any others I’d sucked. Slowly backing off, I got into a rhythm of drawing him deeply in, then worrying the shaft as I withdrew my greedy mouth. When it was free of my lips I used my tongue to tickle the sensitive skin below his urethral opening, then sought to penetrate that tiny hole—my rotating hand stroking the shaft all the while. It proved to be very effective because soon he told me to stop or he’d cum. “Next time,” I replied, smiling up at him devilishly. I wanted to experience sex with this man in every way possible and swallowing his semen, I intuitively knew, would be part of any future lovemaking.

He told me to lay on my back on the center of the bed, then crawled over to join me. I looked under his body and felt a flutter of excitement when I saw his distended cock, standing at attention, swaying as he moved. He kissed me, reaching for my pussy at the same time. His artists’ fingers worked through the inner lips of my labia before becoming cock-like with their invasion—the sensations produced made me wiggle in appreciation. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how amazing was the image of that disproportionally sized helmet atop such a slim shaft. Wanting to touch it again I reached under him and cradled it in my hand, then moved from stroking it to cupping his balls. He positioned himself over me, pushing my legs wide apart, then rested his body lightly between them, his weight carried by his elbows.

I moaned as he gently nudged the broad knob of his cock until it became enfolded in the lips of my labia, but he didn’t immediately push inside. I felt him make tiny, barely discernible thrusting motions, a counterpoint to his tongue in my mouth. A sense of urgency filled me, then frustration as he just held his manhood there, barely pressing into my already soaked pussy. By the time his mushroom head finally made its way past my inner lips into my vagina I was almost frantic with need. He started to gently thrust, each time taking him further inside, until his thighs met mine. I moaned loudly; wrapping my arms around him, my legs already moving up, drawing him in. He slipped out of me until the large head rested a few inches inside my vaginal cavity, sending tiny electric shocks throughout my body with its progress. A surge of pleasure washed over me—my pussy contracted around his cock. I raised my legs up high, then bend them and pressed my heels against his buttocks, bringing me into tight contact with his pelvis. I whimpered, my hands roaming through the thick hair on his back as I told him to fuck me harder. Michael ignored my plea, but answered by taking his cock completely out of my pussy, holding it there—I cried out my need—then quickly forcing it back in. Every time that protuberant knob hit bottom I almost sighed with relief: it felt so right being there—but then he took it away, unsettling me with its sudden absence. It almost seemed a game to him, denying me pleasure over and over. I gasped, frustrated, my head now rocking from side to side. He was driving me crazy!

Abruptly, as if he’d accomplished some unexpressed goal, he began pistoning his cock as deep as he could in my pussy—short, sharp thrusts. My body responded with counter-thrusts, his very touch exciting me, sending my senses reeling. Soon his breath became ragged, his thrusts more fierce. “Too soon, too soon,” I heard him moan, “I’m going to cum.” His voice sounded almost apologetic as he lowered his body on mine, his cock still a piston, jabbing me insistently, “It’s just been too long since I’ve done this.” His confession came out like a shameful admission. His head dropped until his chin pressed against my shoulder, then nudged aside my hair to kiss my neck. I felt his mouth clamp urgently on the sensitive skin below my ear, glued there, as if unwilling to move. With a final push he buried his cock completely in me, his pelvis pressed hard against my opening. He jerked his head up, neck arched, then groaned as he filled me—his thick cum coating the walls of my vagina. I lay beneath him, feeling the heat of his liquid spread through my womb. “Oh, Michael,” I cried—my climax triggered—hands on his back, fingers constricting into claws, marking him as I suddenly soared: only a taste, I intuitively knew, of what was possible.

After cleaning up we returned to his bed to relax together: laying facing each other, smiling with impish joy at what we had just done. I reflected on it, trying to pinpoint what made it so special. He’s handsome in a different way than Walker, I thought; his only negative a mustache. I’ll get used to it, I decided. He can be gentle like my husband, but unpredictable; I liked that. I put my hand on his chest, teasing the thick mat of hair that covered it--another plus--then lay my head on my arm. After a moment he stroked my hair, then took a lock of it and twirled it around his fingers. Our extended quiescence was broken by our lips joining…and my muted moans as his tongue played with mine. He sensuously slid his hand down my body, stopping at my breasts to idly circle my areola, then lightly ran a finger down my body and into my still-puffy flower before saying, “I can go again in a few minutes.” I gently caressed his shrunken penis before replying, “I can’t wait.”

So we devoted about fifteen minutes to stroking and kissing each other. Michael used the time to explore my body, finding out my sensitive spots, saying he was mentally working himself up to another hard-on. He explained that after his pent up need had been relieved, it took awhile before he could orgasm again. I just smiled, thinking of how good it would feel having his fat cock-head back in me, suddenly shivering in anticipation. Finally he told me to suck him and he’d be ready.

The sex that followed convinced me he would be my lover for a long time…if I could keep him.

[Chrislydi]

It's extraordinary how you've managed to capture the eagerness and longing, both the strength and the carnality of the visceral with the withdrawal and teasing of the denial, all within the same moment, whether a few minutes or half an hour the effect is both gamechanging and phenomenal, almost polar opposites combining to enhance the whole, a sexual symbiosis of opposites working together, while even the extraordinarily large size of his phallic head just adds to and enhances these new alternate feelings of contentment and need. The accompanying change in Jade reflects both her current mindset and the explosive nature of the process, this is sex on another level
with an added emotional element delivered by an experienced practitioner.

You have to understand Jade comes into this absolutely desperate for Michael to be special, for it to work, to have this man and for it to mean something beyond any other memories, she's ready for this enlightenment and craves it, she needs to give new purpose to her struggle for certainty instead of these poisoning doubts, to give some real worthwhile reason to her current life and existence. It's little wonder then that the sexual expertise and craftsmanship Michael speaks to her in a new language, a new expression of how things can be and a promise of better to come. Jade is more than ready to fall heavily for Michael and the stars are all aligned for something more permanent.

Chris

[Johng1953]

This is different. The fact she's considering him as a long term lover is I think very different. Jade isn't reacting in the mindless way she did with her big cocked studs. The connection she feels with Michael seems to be much more emotionally based and could almost certainly be more threatening to her marriage.

[BDJ]

Even though it was really late Walker was waiting in the doorway when I made it onto the porch, tired but happy—glowing with that just-fucked look. He began peppering me with questions as I made my way into our bedroom, shedding my clothes as I went. Now as excited as he at what I had done I demanded, “Strip.” Laying on my back I placed my feet on the mattress near my ass, knees splayed wide, propped partially up on a pillow, I ordered him, “I want your head between my legs when I tell you.”

I waited in silence as he hurriedly took off his clothes, taking a perverse pride in him being subservient to my wishes.

When he put a pillow under my ass so he could clean me properly I prepared to tell him of my evening with Michael, even though I didn’t start until he’d settled in, kissing my inner lips and trying to get his tongue in deep to lap out my new lover’s cum. “Careful, my pussy’s sensitive,” I admonished, “I think he bruised it.” Walker stopped, a concerned look on his face. “I’m O.K.,” I told him, “It doesn’t hurt, just remember that when you get too excited.” I felt so close to him then: his renewed touch searching, but so light I barely felt it. Happily, I told him of the seduction in Michael’s living room, of the gentleness of that first fuck, and of the tender interlude before the second time. It made my husband moan. “So he’s a sweet and considerate lover,” he said in between licks. “He started out that way,” I replied a little breathlessly,—his actions were beginning to have an effect on me—“he was when he worked his cock up the back of my legs…you remember the way Stretch did it?” “Hmmm,” was his response, his tongue making lazy circles on the hooded skin covering my clitoris. “He was still trying to please me, I think. Anyway,” I continued, “you know what that does to me. I loved the way he fucked me and it didn’t take me long to cum.” Walker stopped licking and looked up at me. I could just make out his eyes peeking over the top of my hairless mound. “Sounds like this guy’s got what it takes.” he replied. “I don’t think he liked doing it that way,” I replied, “Oh?” he said. “I could just tell he wanted to do something different.” “Hmmm” was all my husband said as he propped up so he could better see my face. “Eat me some more.” I pleaded, “He never did and I wanted him to.” Walker went back to worshiping the responsive skin on either side of my labia. God, how I love how he treats me, I thought. “Anyway, I’d barely finished cumming when he flipped me on my back. He put his hands on my ankles and lifted my legs up and backwards. I felt his cock touch my pussy a second before he pushed it in. He did it too fast and hard and it hurt.” “Did you tell him to stop?” Walker asked. “No,” I replied, “I didn’t think he’d want to hear that. He leaned over me, forcing my legs back even more and I felt his cock go in deeper. I was almost scared for a minute. He looked so intense.” Walker stopped again, looking up so I could see the questioning look on his face. “I don’t know,” I almost whined in response, then continued more confidently, “It felt good, but he got so aggressive so fast. I was just startled at first.” I put my hands on the top of his head and pushed down, “Eat me some more, please.” When his tongue touched my clit I moaned, “I decided to just let myself go, you know, he was beginning to make me feel soooo good.”

Walker got more energetic with his mouth right about then. I had to push his head away and tell him to let up some. He raised up a little, “You wanted it, didn’t you,” he said. I could hear the lust in his voice. “Couldn’t get enough of that hard cock, could you?” “Yes,” I told him, “he’s better than you.” I don’t know why I said that, I didn’t mean to tell him. I was surprised when I heard him passionately utter, “I know, I love it.” With that he lifted me by my asscheeks and buried his tongue in my anus. It was so unexpected. I moaned as the nerves surrounding my sphincter responded and shocks of pleasure radiated outward, rippling through me, charging through my senses. “Keep doing that.” I pleaded, “Oh, oh, Do it. Lick my ass!” He didn’t let up, trying to get his hardened tongue in further. My hands found my breasts and I cupped them, then began to pinch my nipples—hard. I wanted to hurt myself, to use the pain to amp up the pleasure coming from my ass. Walker stopped long enough to demand I continue my story…for that’s what it was now: fantasy become real. I realized I could say anything and he’d eat it up, but decided to keep to the truth. “He fucked me for at least half an hour,” I said, “Hard and rough.” I was panting now. “I loved him using me like that.” Then the effects of Walker’s loving mouth and the memory of Michael’s pounding took me to the edge of orgasm. I breathlessly continued, eager to finish the story, “At the end, when he was laying on top of me, I put my legs around his waist. I dug my heels into his ass. I wanted him inside me forever.” Walker forced a finger up my ass. “Oh, God,” was all I could say. “Tell me,” he asked, his voice low, “Do you want to fuck him again?” he asked, almost cajoling. He went back to tonguing my slit, but never stopping with those magic fingers in my ass. I was so lost I couldn’t help but tell the truth. “Yes! Yes!! I can’t get enough! He can have me anytime he wants!” Then I screamed as he added another finger, stretching me further, his suddenly thrusting hand taking me over the top into an intense orgasm.

I was still breathing heavily, my waning euphoria finally bringing me back to reality, when I heard him mutter, almost to himself, “I thought you would.” “Walker,” I replied, a little exasperated at the way he said it, “you wanted me to do it and now I want it to continue. Anyway, it’s too late. Look.” I lifted myself to rest on my elbows and pulled my hair back away from my neck. He crawled up my body, angling the bedside lampshade so he could better see where I was indicating. There, right below my ear, in stark contrast to my pale skin, was a large, reddish-purple hickey. “See,” I exclaimed happily, “he’s already marked me as his.”

Walker froze where he was, on all fours. I lay back, satisfied at the reaction I had elicited. Then my eyes were drawn to his long, hanging horse-cock; my view so like the one I’d had of Michael’s short, tautly stretched one when we’d first started. So different, I thought. For a moment I relived the experience of Michael on top of me, his passion so strong, intent on taking me, owning me. And I had wanted that, so caught up with my own desire to surrender to him. He had marked me with his mouth. I hadn’t even know he was doing it, I was so blown away by what his cock was doing to me. Then a sudden realization washed over me: the broad head of his short cock just felt so much better than Walkers. How could that be?

But recognition that Michael was better at sex didn’t diminish my love for Walker, I decided. We were partners in this; he understood me. I reached to stroke him, with my other arm I pulled him to me, offering my mouth for his needs. He straddled my head, his distended pole touching my lips, his hand behind my head, urging me to service him. I glanced up, wondering if he understood how different this time was going to be. He spoke, even as I opened my mouth to accept him. “You’re his?” he asked, a thousand emotions playing over his features. “That quick?” I sucked, not wanting to answer. My rotating hands on his shaft brought a speedy end to my efforts and I swallowed all he had to give. When he had flopped down beside me he commented again, “You fell for him pretty fast, didn’t you?” Had I, I thought? It wasn’t something I really wanted to admit. “You’ll never know,” I replied teasingly, reaching over to him, giving him my tongue to suck, then continued, “I might have or it might just have been something to say to excite you…make you want to cum. I knew we couldn’t screw, I’m too sore down there.” I paused, “Does it matter?” My husband thought for a minute before answering, “No, I’ve seen it before. It’s hot to think about, though, makes for an exciting time when you come home.” I breathed a sigh of relief but didn’t know if my new lover and I would continue…he hadn’t said anything about seeing me again.

Life resumed after that special night: Walker continued to teach, I to work on my sculptures. We had spent that first week fucking like rabbits. He even took me one morning at breakfast—saying I’d sassed him. Before I could react he just grabbed me, hoisted me on the kitchen counter, and gave me a ride like we hadn’t done since we were newlyweds. But while I had expected a call, just a friendly reconnect—Michael had my number and knew Walker had a pretty regular schedule—I got nothing. Another week went by. Nothing. The third week Walker had to comfort me—I was almost in tears when I confessed how much I wanted him. The fourth week I finally gave up; resigning myself to the fact it had been a one-night-stand—he had gotten into my panties and it had been enough.

[Chrislydi]

Such an explosion, a detonation of atomic proportions, something that's so fundamentally threatened the current pattern and nature of their marriage bond that it will have to change and adapt or face being undermined and fall apart. Michael is the name of this incendiary device and it's his superb ability as a lover which has given Jade presicely what she needed at a time when she had real doubts about the fundamentals underpinning her marriage and their way forward. Now I've exaggerated for effect with this language as there was of course still a great love and bond between our two main protagonists Walker and Jade, but such metaphorical language about blowing things apart and the stars all alining for change at this particular juncture do help illustrate just how fundamental to their immediate future that special night with Michael was. It's important to note that in the following week Walker and Jade were at it like rabbits, couldn't get enough of each other with it being compared to just after their marriage, so lots to ponder with affects both very positive and negative, nothing is straightforward but more mixed as the aftermath plays out.

We can now see a dominance and confidence in Jade's dealings with her still beloved Walker, she has gained something intangible through her experience with Michael, but while difficult to pin down and express in words, or even know exactly the true nature of the beast in it's overall affect on the whole range of new attitudes and outlooks it's caused to be adopted, we can be sure that nothing is immune to the aftershocks and these subsequent events are all part of that. Lastly we see the distress of denial, Jade is now addicted to Michael after just one night of supernatural bliss, three weeks later with no further contact she's distraught and wondering why, a month later in despair without hope, reconciled to it being just the once and the emptiness and disappointment is killing her spirit. If ever there was an optimum time for Michael to renew contact and take over her mind completely it's now. How the swings and roundabouts of life work can be something of a mystery but maybe Michael has a strategy and this silence forms just a part of an all conquering plan.
.
Chris

[Johng1953]

Is it Michael's plan to have Jade pining for him? I very much doubt we've seen the last of him. The confidence though that he must have if this is the case shows a high level of arrogance to my mind.

[BDJ]

Johng1953,
He was an enigma that was for sure, investing a whole semester at that community college class flirting with her (and she ignored it until we decided she should flirt back). Then, after the deed was done, nothing. He's younger, single, and a womanizer. What do you expect?

[BDJ]

Chris,
You've got to remember, Walker was always involved in Jade's affairs; if not the instigator then using them the amp up his own sexual arousal. He's always recognized his fundamental inability to read a woman in bed, that long cock made up for the need. But they were fully together in this new adventure: she excited to have found such a unique man who pleased her so well and he really happy with the great sex for both of them when she returned that first time.