Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
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   BetweenHerLegs says -

   This story, like all BetweenHerLegs stories, is a literary exploration
of sexual fantasy.  It it not intended to describe actual persons or
events, nor to condone or encourage any of these activities.  Likewise,
this and every other piece of erotica on this site should not be read by or
to minors, nor by or to anyone for whom these materials are illegal,
immoral, or ill-advised.

   Otherwise...  enjoy!

   Love and kisses,

   Jenny (ManyJennies@yahoo.com)

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   "A Whirlwind of Change"

   by BetweenHerLegs

   (C) Jenny Clark, 2008

   It's amazing how much change a woman can undergo in a matter of hours,
and just how quickly those changes become entrenched.  At the start of the
day, I had been a chaste wife, a woman who had, her whole life, known only
one lover: the man who was her husband and the father of her children.  By
the end of the day, I was laying on my side, my legs split wide apart.  One
was stretched out on the bed as far as it could, quivering with tension. 
The other was curled around the shoulder of the eighteen year-old boy who
was plowing my full, dark bush.  And my eyes were on my husband as he sat
helplessly by the bedside, masturbating to a picture of our fourteen
year-old daughter and the sounds my adulterous coupling.

   My name's Cathy and I'm 38 years old.  Age does not necessarily
translate to wisdom, or I would have seen it coming from the very start of
the day.  Too many things converged for it to be avoided.  Then again,
maybe I didn't want to avoid it.  And maybe I'm glad I didn't.

   Emotional vulnerability number one: it was the day of my father's
funeral.  He and I had always been very close, so I took his passing hard.
None of my other siblings even got along with him, so I not only felt
grief, but I felt alone in that grief.

   Emotional vulnerability number two: my husband Jeff is an exceedingly
handsome man, a good provider, a wonderful father, and a conscientious
husband.  But he's as stereotypical a carpenter as he is a successful one.
He's emotional insensitive; some might even say stunted.  As proof of this,
he went to work as usual that day, leaving me to go to my dad's funeral
alone.

   Emotional vulnerability number three: Nick.  The eighteen year-old son
of family friends.  I'd babysat for him since he was born and watched him
grow from a smart, cute little baby into a handsome, sensitive young man.
I'd been watching him and his brother once when he was thirteen, and hadn't
given much thought about the fact that he was getting older.  I was walking
around in a sleep shirt that was tight across my chest and came down about
mid-thigh.  I didn't think anything of it until I saw him getting an
erection.  While I didn't exactly think sexually of him at that young age,
I experienced a certain enchantment at the idea that I might have been the
first live woman to give Nick a boner.

   As fate would have it, Nick stopped by the morning of my dad's funeral
change, just to see if there was anything he could do to help.  I broke
down in tears and asked if he could go with me so I wouldn't be alone.  He
did, and he was a source of comfort and strength for me.  After the
funeral, he drove us back to my house and we sat in his front seat.  I
clutched his hand and lay my head on his shoulder, crying softly.

   He didn't say anything or try to fix anything like most men do; he just
let me cry, and squeezed my hand.  After a few minutes, I got out and
invited him in.  I poured us some iced tea and we went into the living
room. I sat on the couch.  He sat in the rocking chair to the side of the
couch.

   And then I made the big mistake.  Or maybe it wasn't a mistake.  But it
was the decision that would ultimately lead me down a path I never
consciously foresaw.  I beckoned Nick to come sit beside me on the couch. I
wanted to be near him.  I wanted to feel his comfort next to me again.  I
had no thoughts of my husband Jeff, nor of my children.  Nor was I thinking
sexually.  I simply wanted to feel Nick's presence.

   There's no denying that he was a handsome boy.  At eighteen, he'd lost
his baby fat and started to put on lean muscle from a lot of bike riding
and yard work.  He was only 5'9", but the height suited him.  He had soft
brown hair that he combed in a simple part, and he had dimples that were
dazzling.  But it was really about his lips and his eyes.  His lips were
very soft for a boy's.  You could tell just by looking.  They didn't look
feminine at all, but they looked soft.  And his eyes.  His eyes were
bright, penetrating blue, surrounding by long, thick dark lashes.  I could
stare at his eyes for hours.

   Still, I was not aware of anything I'd call attraction to him.  Not
until he sat next to me, and took my hand soothingly in his.  Suddenly I
became keenly aware not only of my own appreciation of his looks, but also
of a sense of attraction the other direction.  This surprised me.

   I've never been uneasy about my looks.  I have dark, hunter green eyes
with hazel flecks that come out in the sunshine.  My skin is smooth and
clean, and bronze-complected from my Italian mother, who also gave me her
long, straight black hair and her full lips.  My face is olive-shaped with
high cheekbones, giving me simultaneously soft and finely angled features.
I'm 5'8" and a voluptuous size 12 with 38C breasts.  I knew I still turned
some heads at 38.  But I was 38, and Nick was 18.  I never anticipated that
he would be attracted to me, no matter what my looks.

   But clearly he was, and I had the sense that he wasn't only responding
to my vulnerability of that day -- though I'm sure that vulnerability
helped embolden him and strengthen whatever desires he already had.  Too, I
was wearing an outfit that I knew suited me particularly well: a denim
skirt that hung to my knees and a dark black sweater which was as shimmery
as it was soft.  I looked sideways at him and found that his eyes were
locked on my face.

   When our eyes met in that awkward way, he let loose my hand, raised his
hand to my cheek and gently turned my face towards his.  Tears in the
corners of my eyes, I parted my lips, breathing softly.  His eyes closed.
His lips parted.  And then I felt him take my upper lip gently between his
lips, sucking it ever-so-softly into his mouth.  When he let go of my lip,
I almost screamed, but he moved to my lower lip, sucking just as gently and
rolling the flesh between his lips, massaging it delicately with his
tongue.

   And I wept with joy.

   "Oh, Nick," I cried out as his mouth at last met mine full on.  "Nick,
Nick, little Nicky," I called out to him as our lips pressed and our
tongues met, slipping saliva into one another's mouths.  I had never kissed
another man but my husband apart from gentle pecks, but I whirled my tongue
around in this eighteen year-old boy's mouth, sloshing spit and gnashing
teeth with increasing ferocity.

   "Cathy," he moaned into my mouth, and before I knew what was happening,
his hands were both on my chest, massaging my breasts through my sweater.

   I had never experienced hands like Nick's.  They were strong and
demanding, but they were also careful.  As much as he pawed and groped, he
caressed and stroked.  With no reservations, I wanted to feel those hands
directly on my flesh, so I reached down and lifted my sweater up over my
tits.

   Unlike my husband Jeff, Nick was able to maintain focus on more than one
activity.  Our kisses continued, even heated up.  Our lips would only part
in order to allow our tongues to play outside our mouths.  When we did
this, we had our eyes wide open, sometimes gazing deeply into one
another's, and something looking on with wonder at the wet, sloppy play of
our tongues.  But even so, his hands found my breasts with new vigor, and
as he kneaded me through my bra, he felt my nipples harden.  Taking his cue
from my earlier encouragement, he slid his hands around to my back and
unfastened the hooks.  Thus freeing my chest to full exploration, his hands
returned to the front.

   "Oh god, Nick, yes!" I cried out, as I never had before from simple
breast play.  His finger slid around the contours of each breast, caressing
until he reached the tips, at which point he would give a little squeeze.
As my responses to his touch grew more intense, he rolled my nipples
between his fingers, and then pinched, only lightly.  Just a little
pressure.  They were rock hard and burning for more.  "Kiss them," I
begged. "Kiss my tits, Nicky."

   He dragged his mouth reluctantly from mine, but he moaned with pleasure
as he brought it down to my chest.  His ministrations began with slow,
lingering licks over my skin, moved on to a series of gentle but wet pecks,
and then he lost control and ravaged my chest with his mouth.  His mouth
was as skilful as his hands, a mixture of manly power and gentlemanly
sensitivity.

   I was so caught up in the pleasure of it that I was barely aware of how
much I was squirming, let alone of his hand sliding down my body to my hip,
my thigh, then between my legs.  And then this eighteen year-old boy,
slurping on my nipple, slipped his hand between my tightly pressed thighs,
drew it up, and reached one finger out to press on my mound through my
pantyhose.

   I knew I was hot and moist, but I was so unprepared for his touch, that
I lost it.  I screamed loudly, squeezed my thighs in on his hand, bucked
forward, and felt something inside of my clench, then quiver, and then
spasm.

   "Shit!  Oh shit!" I screamed out.  "What the fuck was that?" I cried,
gripping his face and lifting it back to mine so that I could kiss him with
desperate hunger.  "Oh god, Nick, oh, Nicky, god."

   As he kissed me, his finger kept stroking my through my pantyhose, and
he said gently, "What was that?  I think it was an orgasm, Cathy."

   "Can't be," I corrected him between rough kisses.  I bit his lips, his
cheeks, even his teeth.  "I've had my husband inside me and I've never had
an orgasm before."

   He pressed his mouth to mine, ran his tongue into my throat and moaned
as loudly as he could.  When he broke the kiss I watched him withdraw his
hand and bring it up towards our faces.  "Let's see how wet you were down
there," he said in a soft voice.  My dark green eyes widened in awe as I
saw his tongue reach out towards the finger which had just been tightly
against my pussy.  He tasted his finger.  "Mmm...  Nice and wet," was his
verdict.  He took his own finger into his mouth and started to suck it.

   I had no idea what how to respond to this.  I'd never seen it before. 
Never known a man might do that.  It filled me with a new warmth and a
little anxiety.  Not only was this my first affair, but I was in new sexual
territory.  I had no idea what to do.  So I just allowed myself to sit back
and vocalize my pleasure as the eighteen year-old bent over and began
kissing my belly.  His mouth was still soft, but it was more insistent than
before.  I was sure he was going to leave a hickey for my husband to find
later, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything beyond moans, groans,
and the occasional, "Oh god, yes!"

   And then I felt his tongue inside my belly button, and I think I
screamed again.  I bucked out, spread my legs and pressed his head against
my tummy.  It was an unreal feeling, the wetness and strength of his flesh
swirling around inside the little cavity.  But it was nothing compared to
what was yet to happen.

   At first when he raised his head I was disappointed, but then I was
distressed and confused as he slid down off the couch, and knelt in front
of me.  I had no idea what he planned.  Literally no idea.  But I saw the
look in his eyes as he looked up at me and it made tears come to my eyes
again.  His face was a mixture of adoration, worshipfulness, and animal
hunger.  I had rarely seen any of those on Jeff's face, let alone all three
at once.

   "Cathy," he said, bending towards me and kissing my knees through my
nylons.  He kissed each knee again, his mouth a little more open, allowing
his tongue to draw circles.  Even through the hoes, it felt incredible. 
"Cathy, I've wanted to do this for you for longer than I can remember." His
tongue slid down to the backs of my knees, and I squealed at the contact
with an unexpectedly sensitive spot, even if it was covered by some measure
of clothing.  He continued as if I hadn't responded.  "The first time I
ever came, I was in my bed while you were downstairs, watching my brother
and me for the night.  I was doing this to a stuffed animal, thinking of
you, and I came."

   I shivered inside as he spread my legs a little and began kissing the
inside of my thighs.  His mouth worked its way slowly upward.  Soon his
face was literally inside my skirt.  His kisses grew harder, stronger.  I
knew for sure he was leaving bruises, and I was beyond not caring, part of
me wanted my husband to see them, so I could tell him how god damned good
this felt.

   And then, his head buried entirely within my skirt I felt his nose
pressing against my mound as he kissed the most sensitive areas of my
thighs and moaned loudly with his own pleasure.  I didn't know if it was
something that men did for women, but I found myself desperately hoping he
would not stop his kisses on my legs.

   He did not.

   When his mouth first reached its ultimate destination, it was just his
tongue, licking up and down the crease in my lips through my nylons.  Then
came his lips, massaging my cunt as best he could.  And at least he slid
his mouth to the side and I felt him bite into the nylon fabric and
literally rip it aside, exposing my full, dark bush to his direct
attention.

   "Oh god, Cathy!" he called to me from inside my skirt, plunging his
mouth directly onto my cunt.  He sucked my lips, licked at my slit, kissed
up and down, fucked me with his tongue.

   "Nicky!" she screamed.  "God, don't stop!"

   "God, Cathy, you're beautiful!"

   "Oh, Nicky!"

   "And you smell so good!"

   "Oh, god!"

   "And you taste amazing!"

   "Oh, Nicky, please please please!"

   And he did please.  He pressed in further, working his tongue around
inside me as deep as he could.  I threw my legs over his shoulders to
encourage him.  His obvious delight in my most intimate area was almost as
thrilling as the physical pleasure itself, and I squeezed my thighs tightly
in on his head with crushing power.

   Nick had another surprise in store for me, too.  I knew I had a clit. 
I'd played with it once or twice and had enjoyed that.  Jeff had hit it
once or twice by accident and I knew that it had felt good.  But when
Nick's lips closed in around my clit and his tongue flicked it back and
forth, I knew that I had never felt physical pleasure before.

   I screamed, I cried, I bucked, and squeezed harder, and after far too
short a time, my body was racked by a second, harder orgasm.  And while I
didn't want him to stop, I didn't think I could take anymore right this
minute, so I reached down and pulled him up, kissing him deeply and tasting
my own juices all over his red face.

   "God, Nicky, that was incredible," I groaned.  "I've never felt anything
like that before.  Never."

   "My pleasure, believe me," the eighteen year-old said with a sloppy
grin.

   His own erection did not escape my notice, but I wasn't sure what to do
about that.  This was the first moment at which I had to actually confront
the fact that I was cheating on my husband, and I was doing so with an
eighteen year-old boy.  I was breaking virtually every one of my moral
codes.

   I rose to go to the kitchen for more iced tea, but found my legs shaky.
When I got there and started pouring the tea, I caught sight of my
reflection in a window.  My face was a mess, my hair in total disarray.  I
hadn't yet realized that my sweater was still up over my tits, and my skirt
was twisted our of place.

   "You're beautiful," Nick's voice said behind me, and I felt his hand lay
on my ass.  It was a sweet gesture of appreciation, not a crude grope.

   "You said that before," I told him, turning to face him as I sipped at
my tea.

   "Well, you are," he said.

   I tugged the hem of my sweater back down to my waist as I realized that
the back door of our house was actually open and anyone who happened to
walk by could see me.  Then I clarified, "I meant about my . .  when you
were . . .  You know."

   Nick grinned, kissed my cheek.  "Well, you are," he repeated.

   That sealed the deal.  Jeff had never said that he thought my pussy was
beautiful.  He hardly even looked at it.  I looked into the young man's
eyes and said, "You did something for me that Jeff never would." I paused,
licked my lips.  "So I'm going to do something for you that I would never
do for Jeff."

   With those words, I set my tea down on the counter and sank slowly to my
knees.  I reached up and rubbed his crotch through his dark khaki pants. 
He was no longer fully erect, but he was still hard.  I smiled.  I had
never given a blowjob before, but I had the general idea.  I scooted a
little closer to him and nuzzled against his lap.

   "Would you like me to do this for you?" I asked him, rubbing my soft
cheek against the growing lump under his zipper.

   "Oh, Cathy..." was all he said, resting his hands on my head and
pressing me just barely into him to indicate how much he would like me to
proceed.

   I was overcome by not only a desire for the new physical experience I
was about to have, but also to return to my Nicky the pleasure he had just
given me.  My cheek still against his lap, I stretched my tongue out as
fully as I could, surprising myself with its length outside my mouth, and
licking up and down his zipper.  The wet trail excited me, and his
continued hardening encouraged me that I was doing good so far.  I parted
my lips and started to mouth him from the side.

   When he could finally take no more teasing through his pants, Nick
reached down, yanked his zipper open, and freed himself from his tightie
whities.  Apparently he was able to be more patient with his teasing
delivery of pleasure than his own receipt.  I would have to try to train
that out of him.

   Another time.  For now, I opened my mouth, and surrounding the head of
his cock, sucking hard, then soft, and using his responses to guide me
toward the proper amount of force.  I was loud and sloppy, making a lot of
slurping noises and allowing volumes of my own saliva to dribble down my
face.  I felt his fingers bit into my scalp, and he pulled me in.  Forcing
me to take him deeper.  And deeper.  I felt his swelling mass sliding along
my tongue, pressing into the roof of my mouth, and then deeper yet.  My
nose was pressed into his lap, and his cock hit the back of my throat, and
I choked, coughing hard.  My face turned red, and I was struggling for air
and gagging noisily on his manhood, but I didn't fight it and he didn't
allow me any wiggle room.

   Suddenly he began to slide his cock back and forth, fucking my face. 
His movements were so passionate, so driving, I pulled off.  "Nicky, wait,"
I begged.

   His face was tense with the interruption of his build towards climax. 
My own face was red as I panted for breath.  I started to speak again -- "I
want you to fuck me, Nicky.  I don't want you to cum right now because I
want to feel my eighteen year-old lover inside of me."

   Nick grinned and reached down and started to beat off.  Before I totally
comprehended what was going on, he was cumming, shooting his load all over
my face.  I'd never taken Jeff's cum on my body, and I loved that I was
taking this kid's who was half my age.  It felt warm and sticky, and I
grinned as it coated me and got in my eye lashes.  He reached out towards
my face and wiped his cum with two fingers, then stuck those fingers into
my mouth for me to suck clean.  It was dirty and naughty and I did it and
loved it.

   "I can get hard again for you, Cathy," he promised.  "I'm well on my way
already."

   I got up and took his hand fiercely and led him to my bedroom.  In only
moments we were looking at one another's naked bodies, and moments after
that, we were rolling on the bed, kissing and caressing.  I loved the way
his young flesh felt under my fingers, and I loved the way he groped and
sucked on my mature flesh as if I were the experience of his life.  I'd
never been made to feel like an experience before.  I rather enjoyed it.

   Soon, true to his word, Nick was hard again.  "Jeff should have some
condoms in his dresser," I panted, rolling reluctantly off the bed and
going over to the bureau.  I slid out my husband's underwear drawer, and
stopped.  There was a picture there.  A picture of our fourteen year-old
daughter Amber.  It was a picture taken through a doorway while she was
naked, changing her clothes.  The picture was covered in thumb prints and
dried fluids.  "Bastard," I spat, flinging the picture towards Nick.  He
looked at it wordlessly and set it aside.

   "No condom," I growled, returning to the bed.  "I want to feel an honest
man inside me without anything between us."

   "Are you worried about --"

   "I don't care, Nicky, just fuck me."

   And he did.  He grabbed me and flung me to my back.  Kissing my tits and
my side, he lined his erection up at my entrance, and then drove in, as
deeply as he could.  I'd never been fucked like this before.  He didn't
just slide in and out.  He moved at different angles, hitting spots that
had never felt a cock before.  I grunted obscenely with every thrust.  Nick
was very patient, more than I was feeling at that point, and I rolled us
over so I was on top.  I'd never ridden Jeff before, but I loved the way
this felt.  I humped up and down on the eighteen year-old's rigid shaft as
I covered his face in kisses, my dark hair veiling him.

   Then, behind us -- "What the fuck?!"

   It was Jeff.  I wanted him to see this, so I ground down hard, and
fucked Nick even harder, biting his neck and sucking on his chest.  "Oh,
Nicky, yes!" I cried out as I fucked my way to an orgasm.  I rose from my
young lover only after a moment or two.  He was still hard.  But I grabbed
the picture of Amber, walked over to Jeff, and slapped it into his hand.

   "You're going to sit here while my Nicky fucks me to another orgasm and
fills me up with his cum, and you're going to hear it all, but you're going
to be masturbating while you listen to us and look at that picture you
fucking pervert."

   Stunned, Jeff didn't know what to do except obey.  He sat in a chair
near the bed and started looking at the picture of our daughter and playing
with himself.  I crawled back into bed and kissed Nick on the mouth, and
caressed his body.  "I'm yours, Nicky," I told him.  "And I want my husband
to know it." I sucked the boy's tongue deep into my throat while I stroked
his cock.  "Show him I'm yours."

   He rolled me onto my side, kissing the side of my breast, the curve of
my waist, the side of my ass.  Then he lifted my leg, straddling the other
one, and laying the one in his hands on his shoulder.  Stretching my
muscles in ways they had never been stretched before, he moved in towards
my pussy.  By the time his cock reached my love gate for its triumphant
return, my legs were quivering.  But I felt nothing but the thrill of his
physical love as he proceeded to fuck me in this position.

   I watched my husband, aroused by the sounds of his wife fucking a
teenager and the sight of his own naked daughter.  "Oh, Nicky!" I cried
out.

   The sex was slow and almost teasing in this position, but I could tell
from his gasps that it was doing wondrous things for him.  He soon reached
his breaking point, though.  When that happened, he muscled me over onto my
belly.  I drew my legs up underneath me and he entered me from behind.  He
now fucked hard and fast, thrusting at an upward angle.  He gripped my hips
tightly as he rammed into my pussy mercilessly.  He was on a direct course
to orgasm, and I was right there with him.  My face was buried in a pillow.
I was biting it and clawing at the sheets.  I had never been so overpowered
before.  It was incredible.

   And then, when he came, he thrust even deeper inside me, and I felt the
jets of his orgasm individually, like the pulsing of water deep inside me,
and I came again, screaming my lover's name and shaking and trembling all
over.  When it had calmed down, Nick slipped out, and I rolled onto my back
to hold his sperm inside me.  I looked over at Jeff, who had a stunned look
on his face.  his hand and the photo of Amber were covered in his cum.

   Maliciously, I rose and walked towards him.  This man who had never been
interested in tasting my pussy.  I grabbed the back of his head as he sat
there and pulled his face towards my thick bush forcing him to his knees
and making him eat the eighteen year-old's cum from me.

   "That's what your wife's cunt is like after it's been truly loved," I
said harshly.  "Get used to it, because you're going to see it looking like
this a lot."

   And as his mouth worked my raw, wet pussy over, lapping up another man's
semen, I felt Nick come up behind me.  The youth wrapped his arms around
me, gently massaging my breasts and kissing the back of my beck.  And as my
scorned husband ate my pussy on his knees, I felt Nick growing hard again
against my ass.

   "Oh, Nicky," I whispered.  My life would never be the same again.  ***
*** *** *** ***

   Read more from Jenny about this story at:
   /~BetweenHerLegs/spoilers.html