I was asked in another part about the circumstances of first having sex outside my marriage. I thought I'd posted this but I must have forgotten, so here it is. It's a long post … but I don't have time to edit it right now.
In September, I'll have been married to J for 15 years. He's the third guy I've ever had sex with, and I thought that would be it for my lifetime. Sure, the sex isn't as exciting as it once was but that's inevitable after being with one person for a long time, both working and so being tired in the evenings, having children so unable to take time in bed on the weekend because the children always want something. So mostly it's just quickies when one of us has the energy to initiate things, with the occasional time to indulge if we can be sure both kids are out for an hour or two. But he's my husband, and that's that.
Until I had to go away overnight on a course. Throughout all our time together, we've seldom spent even one night apart, but I had to do this course because it would help me get promoted, which means more money, which means better holidays for the family, and so on. So it would be two nights away, bearable only because I'd be looking forward to being back with J.
The course was OK, a mixed group of peoplr, mostly younger than me (42) and a few older. At the first coffee break, a guy came up to me and introduced himself as Chris, asked about where I work, etc. He was definitely younger (could have passed for 20, though he told me he was 26). He definitely grabbed the occasional glance at my boobs and legs, but I thought nothing of it - there were younger and prettier girls there and I'm a married woman, after all.
He socialised with others over lunch and in the afternoon break. At the end of the afternoon though he asked if I was staying in the hotel where the course was being run; I said yes, he said so was he, and he asked if I fancied a drink in the bar before dinner, there would be a group meeting up. It sounded better than being on my own, so of course I agreed.
I went back to my room, spoke to J about the day, showered, and got dressed for the evening - nothing flirty or sexy, just a top and skirt, wedge heels, no tights. But underwear, of course ... trusty M&S plain, everyday underwear. He was waiting for me in the bar when I got there. I expected that other people from the course would be there too, but it was just him ... I asked if others were joining us, and he said they'd gone to a restaurant in town, it was just me and him. So that was odd, but I was flattered that he wanted to spend time with me. I didn't imagine he wanted anything other than a chat with someone with a bit more knowledge of their occupation.
So we had a drink, then a second, then shared a bottle of wine with a very ordinary meal, then he asked me back to the bar for a nightcap. I was already a bit tipsy of course so I said I'd better go to my room, but he pressed me to keep him company for one more drink. So I sat at a table while he got me a drink. It was when he came to sit with me that he started to make comments - "You know, I can't believe you're 42", "Your hair looks lovely", "Your husband is so lucky". He made me feel like I was the only woman in the bar. Then he told me I was the most desirable woman on the course, and put his hand on my knee. Then he looked straight at me and asked me to go back to his room. While he was saying that his hand slipped under my skirt and up the inside of my thigh. I clamped my legs together and looked around - nobody was looking our way, and even if they were they couldn't see what was happening because of the table.
"At least let me touch you - something to remember when I masturbate later"
I wanted to be touched. The alcohol, the way he looked at me, the feeling of his hand on my naked flesh. I wasn't really thinking things through. I unclamped my thighs and his hand slid further up until his fingers pressed against my pussy through my underwear. That's when I started thinking, and clamped my legs shut again.
"Sorry," I said. "I'm married. I have to go." I stood up, smoothed down my skirt, gulped down the rest of my G+T, and walked out of the bar to the lifts.
Back in my room I rang J again - saying nothing about what had happened - then undressed and lay on the bed, remembering the touch of his hand on my skin, the way he looked at me in a way I hadn't been looked at in years - as an object of desire, rather than a wife and mother. Instinctively my hand found its way between my legs and I imagined it was his fingers probing my folds, feeling my wetness, how he would look naked, what it would feel like opening up to him and letting him penetrate me. I made myself come, then turned the light out. It took me a while to get to sleep ... how was I going to look Chris in the eye tomorrow? I'd have to do my best to avoid him.
In the morning I showered, spoke to J and the children, dressed, and then went to the training room so I'd be there just as it was about to start - no time for pre-course socialising. At the morning break I struck up conversation with other delegates, avoiding Chris, and at lunchtime I walked out of the hotel to make sure he couldn't start to work his charm on me again. Not that I wanted him, oh no, that's what I told myself anyway; it was just better to avoid the temptation.
It was in the afternoon break that he approached me, asking if I was avoiding him, because he wanted to apologise for being so forward, but he didn't stop thinking of me when he went back to his room the previous night and loved the smell of me on his fingers.
Chris asked about a drink that evening, and when I objected he insisted that there would be two others from the course there so there would be no repeat of his behaviour from the previous night. So I agreed. And after the evening routine of speaking with J and the children, showering, and getting dressed, I went down to the bar to meet him and the others. Except after one drink the others made their excuses and left. I refused a second drink, had only one small glass of wine with the meal, and refused the offer of a nightcap in the bar saying I had to get back to my room to talk to the children. I was being good...
He walked with me to the lifts, and took the lift upwards with me - he was staying two floors above mine. He stood closer to me than he needed to, but made no attempt to touch me. When the lift stopped at my floor he leant down and pecked me on the cheek, and apologised again for his behaviour of the previous night. The lift doors started to close again ... I'd been slow getting out. I looked at him and told him it was OK, our faces still close together. Then the lift started to move again and I stumbed slightly. Chris grabbed my arms to steady me and then our mouths were pressed together. I don't know who started it - I like to think it was him - but he was a fabulous kisser. When the lift stopped on his floor he broke off the kiss and held out his hand for me to go with him to his room. I told him I couldn't and he kissed me again, this time his hand pressing against my pussy through my skirt and panties. I reached for his crotch and felt the outline of his semi-erect cock through his trousers. I wanted this so badly. At the same time I was scared.
The lift doors started to close again and Chris pushed the "Doors open" button. Then his fingers hovered over the button for my floor, and he looked at me as he asked if we were going to his room or mine. It wasn't a question of "if", it was "where". I told him we'd go to his room and he reached for my hand and led me there.
As soon as we were inside the door, we kissed again and our hands were all over each other, him exploring my breasts while I unbuttoned his trousers to put my hand inside his pants and feel the weight of his cock. His hand moved to unzip my skirt, and I stepped back to let it fall to the floor and pulled off my top, so I was in my underwear. I knelt in front of him and pulled down his trousers and boxers, took his shaft in my hand, appreciating its girth, and then my mouth closed around the glans. My pussy started to throb with the anticipation of having him inside me.
When Chris placed his hands on my head to push me away slightly, I stood up again and we kissed while he unclasped my bra, then he kissed my nipples and cupped my breasts. I loved how he was making me feel, but it was wrong ... I loved my husband ... I had to tell him to stop before he had my panties off. I started to speak but it was though he read my mind, and his hand was tracing its way over my belly and down into my panties and then it was too late for me to tell him to stop. What I'd imagined the previous night, that it was his hand exploring my folds and feeling my wetness, it was happening.
He moved me back towards the bed, getting me to lie down on the edge before easing my panties off, then kissed his way back up my legs, up the inside of my thighs. I could feel the warmth of his breath, he was nearly at my pussy. Then he was kissing the outer lips before his tongue found its way between the inner folds and teased my clit briefly before he started to focus on it in earnest, one finger then two entering my eager hole, my body quickly moving through the gears towards orgasm.
I was nearly there when he stopped and looked up at me. "Can I enter you," he asked, and I told him it was the thing I wanted most in the world. He moved until his cock was at my entrance and paused there for a moment, looking into my eyes. I nodded, and then he was easing his way into me and it felt so intense and I was coming before he was even fully inside me. J is the only other man who'd made me come ... and now I knew that wasn't the last orgasm I would be having on Chris's cock that night.
He waited until my orgasm was nearly over before he started to move inside me, slowly at first but using the full length of his shaft, moving me towards another orgasm. I tried to hold on for him but it was just too good. If sex with J as now usually like a sprint, this was a long-distance run, my body responding as he touched it, stroked it, kissed it, nibbled it, moved inside it. It was after I'd come the third time that he asked if he needed to pull out to cum himself. "Don't you dare" I said, "I want it inside me." Now he started to move faster, harder, deeper, in search of his own satisfaction, our mouths locked together until his cock started to pulse within me as he bathed my insides with his cum.
We fucked twice more that night. The third time I was coming so hard at the end I thought I was going to pee myself. He asked me to sleep with him, but I said I needed to ring J and had better do it from my room. So after I'd had a pee - I really did need to go after the beautiful battering he'd given my lower parts - I got dressed and went back to my room. Then I spoke with J, with Chris's cum still dripping out of me, pretending everything was normal.
The next morning I woke early and thought about going to Chris's room for another fuck, but I was starting to feel guilty about betraying my wonderful husband. So instead I used my fingers, remembering the night before.
In September, I'll have been married to J for 15 years. He's the third guy I've ever had sex with, and I thought that would be it for my lifetime. Sure, the sex isn't as exciting as it once was but that's inevitable after being with one person for a long time, both working and so being tired in the evenings, having children so unable to take time in bed on the weekend because the children always want something. So mostly it's just quickies when one of us has the energy to initiate things, with the occasional time to indulge if we can be sure both kids are out for an hour or two. But he's my husband, and that's that.
Until I had to go away overnight on a course. Throughout all our time together, we've seldom spent even one night apart, but I had to do this course because it would help me get promoted, which means more money, which means better holidays for the family, and so on. So it would be two nights away, bearable only because I'd be looking forward to being back with J.
The course was OK, a mixed group of peoplr, mostly younger than me (42) and a few older. At the first coffee break, a guy came up to me and introduced himself as Chris, asked about where I work, etc. He was definitely younger (could have passed for 20, though he told me he was 26). He definitely grabbed the occasional glance at my boobs and legs, but I thought nothing of it - there were younger and prettier girls there and I'm a married woman, after all.
He socialised with others over lunch and in the afternoon break. At the end of the afternoon though he asked if I was staying in the hotel where the course was being run; I said yes, he said so was he, and he asked if I fancied a drink in the bar before dinner, there would be a group meeting up. It sounded better than being on my own, so of course I agreed.
I went back to my room, spoke to J about the day, showered, and got dressed for the evening - nothing flirty or sexy, just a top and skirt, wedge heels, no tights. But underwear, of course ... trusty M&S plain, everyday underwear. He was waiting for me in the bar when I got there. I expected that other people from the course would be there too, but it was just him ... I asked if others were joining us, and he said they'd gone to a restaurant in town, it was just me and him. So that was odd, but I was flattered that he wanted to spend time with me. I didn't imagine he wanted anything other than a chat with someone with a bit more knowledge of their occupation.
So we had a drink, then a second, then shared a bottle of wine with a very ordinary meal, then he asked me back to the bar for a nightcap. I was already a bit tipsy of course so I said I'd better go to my room, but he pressed me to keep him company for one more drink. So I sat at a table while he got me a drink. It was when he came to sit with me that he started to make comments - "You know, I can't believe you're 42", "Your hair looks lovely", "Your husband is so lucky". He made me feel like I was the only woman in the bar. Then he told me I was the most desirable woman on the course, and put his hand on my knee. Then he looked straight at me and asked me to go back to his room. While he was saying that his hand slipped under my skirt and up the inside of my thigh. I clamped my legs together and looked around - nobody was looking our way, and even if they were they couldn't see what was happening because of the table.
"At least let me touch you - something to remember when I masturbate later"
I wanted to be touched. The alcohol, the way he looked at me, the feeling of his hand on my naked flesh. I wasn't really thinking things through. I unclamped my thighs and his hand slid further up until his fingers pressed against my pussy through my underwear. That's when I started thinking, and clamped my legs shut again.
"Sorry," I said. "I'm married. I have to go." I stood up, smoothed down my skirt, gulped down the rest of my G+T, and walked out of the bar to the lifts.
Back in my room I rang J again - saying nothing about what had happened - then undressed and lay on the bed, remembering the touch of his hand on my skin, the way he looked at me in a way I hadn't been looked at in years - as an object of desire, rather than a wife and mother. Instinctively my hand found its way between my legs and I imagined it was his fingers probing my folds, feeling my wetness, how he would look naked, what it would feel like opening up to him and letting him penetrate me. I made myself come, then turned the light out. It took me a while to get to sleep ... how was I going to look Chris in the eye tomorrow? I'd have to do my best to avoid him.
In the morning I showered, spoke to J and the children, dressed, and then went to the training room so I'd be there just as it was about to start - no time for pre-course socialising. At the morning break I struck up conversation with other delegates, avoiding Chris, and at lunchtime I walked out of the hotel to make sure he couldn't start to work his charm on me again. Not that I wanted him, oh no, that's what I told myself anyway; it was just better to avoid the temptation.
It was in the afternoon break that he approached me, asking if I was avoiding him, because he wanted to apologise for being so forward, but he didn't stop thinking of me when he went back to his room the previous night and loved the smell of me on his fingers.
Chris asked about a drink that evening, and when I objected he insisted that there would be two others from the course there so there would be no repeat of his behaviour from the previous night. So I agreed. And after the evening routine of speaking with J and the children, showering, and getting dressed, I went down to the bar to meet him and the others. Except after one drink the others made their excuses and left. I refused a second drink, had only one small glass of wine with the meal, and refused the offer of a nightcap in the bar saying I had to get back to my room to talk to the children. I was being good...
He walked with me to the lifts, and took the lift upwards with me - he was staying two floors above mine. He stood closer to me than he needed to, but made no attempt to touch me. When the lift stopped at my floor he leant down and pecked me on the cheek, and apologised again for his behaviour of the previous night. The lift doors started to close again ... I'd been slow getting out. I looked at him and told him it was OK, our faces still close together. Then the lift started to move again and I stumbed slightly. Chris grabbed my arms to steady me and then our mouths were pressed together. I don't know who started it - I like to think it was him - but he was a fabulous kisser. When the lift stopped on his floor he broke off the kiss and held out his hand for me to go with him to his room. I told him I couldn't and he kissed me again, this time his hand pressing against my pussy through my skirt and panties. I reached for his crotch and felt the outline of his semi-erect cock through his trousers. I wanted this so badly. At the same time I was scared.
The lift doors started to close again and Chris pushed the "Doors open" button. Then his fingers hovered over the button for my floor, and he looked at me as he asked if we were going to his room or mine. It wasn't a question of "if", it was "where". I told him we'd go to his room and he reached for my hand and led me there.
As soon as we were inside the door, we kissed again and our hands were all over each other, him exploring my breasts while I unbuttoned his trousers to put my hand inside his pants and feel the weight of his cock. His hand moved to unzip my skirt, and I stepped back to let it fall to the floor and pulled off my top, so I was in my underwear. I knelt in front of him and pulled down his trousers and boxers, took his shaft in my hand, appreciating its girth, and then my mouth closed around the glans. My pussy started to throb with the anticipation of having him inside me.
When Chris placed his hands on my head to push me away slightly, I stood up again and we kissed while he unclasped my bra, then he kissed my nipples and cupped my breasts. I loved how he was making me feel, but it was wrong ... I loved my husband ... I had to tell him to stop before he had my panties off. I started to speak but it was though he read my mind, and his hand was tracing its way over my belly and down into my panties and then it was too late for me to tell him to stop. What I'd imagined the previous night, that it was his hand exploring my folds and feeling my wetness, it was happening.
He moved me back towards the bed, getting me to lie down on the edge before easing my panties off, then kissed his way back up my legs, up the inside of my thighs. I could feel the warmth of his breath, he was nearly at my pussy. Then he was kissing the outer lips before his tongue found its way between the inner folds and teased my clit briefly before he started to focus on it in earnest, one finger then two entering my eager hole, my body quickly moving through the gears towards orgasm.
I was nearly there when he stopped and looked up at me. "Can I enter you," he asked, and I told him it was the thing I wanted most in the world. He moved until his cock was at my entrance and paused there for a moment, looking into my eyes. I nodded, and then he was easing his way into me and it felt so intense and I was coming before he was even fully inside me. J is the only other man who'd made me come ... and now I knew that wasn't the last orgasm I would be having on Chris's cock that night.
He waited until my orgasm was nearly over before he started to move inside me, slowly at first but using the full length of his shaft, moving me towards another orgasm. I tried to hold on for him but it was just too good. If sex with J as now usually like a sprint, this was a long-distance run, my body responding as he touched it, stroked it, kissed it, nibbled it, moved inside it. It was after I'd come the third time that he asked if he needed to pull out to cum himself. "Don't you dare" I said, "I want it inside me." Now he started to move faster, harder, deeper, in search of his own satisfaction, our mouths locked together until his cock started to pulse within me as he bathed my insides with his cum.
We fucked twice more that night. The third time I was coming so hard at the end I thought I was going to pee myself. He asked me to sleep with him, but I said I needed to ring J and had better do it from my room. So after I'd had a pee - I really did need to go after the beautiful battering he'd given my lower parts - I got dressed and went back to my room. Then I spoke with J, with Chris's cum still dripping out of me, pretending everything was normal.
The next morning I woke early and thought about going to Chris's room for another fuck, but I was starting to feel guilty about betraying my wonderful husband. So instead I used my fingers, remembering the night before.
