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From: Mick <benedicta@anon.nymserver.com>
Subject: STORY:  Some Firsts for Me: She wanted it HER WAY Part II(F/m,
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STORY:  Some Firsts for Me: She wanted it HER WAY Part II(F/m, m/f, wife,
bond, "forced" bi mm, oral, etc.)

You may repost, print, or copy, provided you do not remove the header, and
do not alter in any way - in whole or in part - without the author's
permission, which is unlikely to be granted in any case. It may not be
reproduced for profit or commercial use.

If you are not 18 or over, well - I encourage your curiosity, but please
pursue it elsewhere...this story (like this newsgroup) is for adults only.
Thanks.

A memoir/story - a reminiscence. I suppose it fits into the "wife watching"
category in a way - though I would never have thought of that until just
now. It's mostly just a remembrance...And it is my first post. 

Comments or questions are welcome....I can spot a flame a mile away, and I
don't read them before I trash them, so don't bother. Constructive
criticism is always welcome. (Take me, use me, lick me, eat me, fuck me,
whip me.....EDIT MEEEEE!!)

Part I

I was barely 18....at least I *think* my birthday had passed. I was young,
and though I'd
gotten laid the first time when I was 14, I was just then really coming
into my own
sexually. I had more than one really important relationship going, all of
them with more
or less understanding women...all but one older than me. And I suppose my
hormone-driven ego was cranking right along. Pretty full of myself.

But SHE had me by the balls, plain and simple. She had worked for a while
at the
bookstore where I did. Early thirties, slender, graceful, with the
exaggerated posture and
poise of a dancer, although she wasn't one. She just moved well and carried
herself with
pride. Dark, especially her hair and eyes, but all of her. Her ancestry was
Russian and
French. She had a soft, deep sense of humor; she seemed to have read
everything.
She was surprisingly raunchy, but in a sort of quiet way - a way that was
actually a form
of flirting. She would make a sexual pun or double-entendre and just check
with a subtle
glance to see if you got it...and smile with pleasure to see that you had.
She would treat
you as a co-conspirator in her naughtiness. She would especially do this
when she had
been slyly teasing one of the many customers or loiterers she attracted to
our end of the
store....she toyed with them, driving them, and me, completely nuts. "Here
comes one of
my regulars," she'd murmur as one of the earnest young intellectuals made
his way up
the aisle, trying to look uninterested, preoccupied. "Wonder what's on his
highly
educated little mind today?"

We had only worked together for a brief while when she began to casually
place a hand
on my leg or arm or shoulder. She would sometimes seem "little-girlish"
with me, but
only subtly. I doubt that anyone else who worked there could see that she
was coming
on to me. In fact, they would have thought I was flattering myself if I had
said anything. I
mean, she was nearly twice my age, gorgeous in sophisticated in a
near-bohemian way,
and I was this bearded young buck. But I knew. Or suspected. Hell, I didn't
know what to
think. I was becoming obsessed as only a brand new man can be. She was just
too
delicious. Was I kidding myself? No. Absolutely not. Maybe. Definitely. Oh,
for Christ's
sake...

Soon there were lunches. My invitation. She said no the first time I asked
her if she'd
like to join me for lunch, but it was a very studied "no." She paused a
long time, looking
into my eyes before saying, "no, I don't think so...." and let her voice
trail off as a slight
smile crossed her face. She *enjoyed* saying no to me! Put her hand on my
goddamn
THIGH when she said no to me. 

But somehow, as nonchalantly as I could, but terrified I'd come across like
one of her
ass hole suitors, I managed to ask her again, and she agreed. We started
having lunch
together nearly every day. And then I told her I was going to a movie after
work, and she
asked with whom, and I said no one, just love this guy's films...we have
some of the
screenplays back in Film and Theater.... We talked for a long while about
his film,
looked over some of the screenplays together, talked about the ones we'd both
seen...then she just invited herself along.

She let me listen to her calling her husband to tell him she'd would be
home late, that
she and "a friend" were going to a movie. She glanced at me and smiled
slightly as she
said "friend." Agony. "No, darling, you stay home.....well, if it's good I
won't mind seeing
again with you sometime....right. And we'll probably stop somewhere for a bite
afterwards.....love you too."

It was the beginning of a long seduction. I wanted it to be a seduction of
her by me, but 
of course it wasn't. I learned a lot.

The movies after work became sort of a regular thing. I decided just to try
and set my
sexual desire for her aside, at least while I waited for some sort of flash
of insight that
would make her mine. I rationalized it in a very high-minded way: she is
married. I've got
plenty of opportunities for sex with women who don't carry that particular
baggage, and
besides, it's dishonest. Hah! It was equally dishonest to pretend that I
didn't want her.
But that's life when you're seventeen, eighteen years old.

We were great spiritual partners for one another. We had a passion for
poetry, for films,
for art, for the outdoors....it was sooo good to be together. Off and on I
would see that
we were in a sort of love. It began to be ok that we didn't sleep together.
In fact, we
started to talk about our relationships - she about her marriage, me about
my girlfriends
and the occasional one-nighter. Once she asked me if I ever went out after
being out
with her, and I honestly told her yes. Had I ever gone out and had sex
after being out
with her? Yes. She looked down at her napkin, and I thought she looked a
little flushed
under her golden skin. When she looked up, she *was* flushed, and her eyes
had a
twinkle...tears? She smiled tenderly, and said simply "Good. I like that."
She paused
again. "Sometimes after we go out, I go home and I....I have to um...."

The waiter came and broke the spell. I didn't know what to make of it all:
wasn't as
bright as everyone thought I was! Some say that I'm still as oblivious
about sexual
matters now as I was then.....or that I'm better at seeing other people's
stuff than my
own.

Three times, I think it was, her husband joined us for lunch. First time,
he was sort of
short with me. I was, at least, smart enough to be flattered. I was a
threat to a 35 year-old
husband! But her willingness to let him join us was unnerving. Was I that
benign? Was I
so young, such a sexual irrelevancy that it was "safe" to hang out with me
and her
husband together. It was gratifying that HE didn't think so.

But the second time, I realized I really sort of liked the guy. He was
funny. He was
smart. He looked cool. He seemed to really lover her. He treated her really
well. Better
than I did, actually. I was always teasing her about things, being sort of
sarcastic ... he
was soft and kind with her, and she soaked it up. I had to admit that I
liked him, and I
liked them together. I was more tortured than ever. Because however I
idealized him
and their marriage, however I tried to "platonize" our relationship, there
were her dark,
deep, naughty eyes, her slender fingers, her full, smiling lips, the crease
in her brow
when she frowned (which she did a lot)....her absolutely sculptural collar
bones, her soft,
jet hair, her breasts, not large, just perfect and full, ripe....her round
hips as she walked
away on her long legs, arm-in-arm with her husband, turning on a perfect
ankle to
surreptitiously smile over her shoulder at me....I believed it was some
sort of love that I
saw in her smile.

She invited me to her place for dinner. When the night came, we went
straight from
work, I on my motorcycle, she in her car. It was a great place...they'd
remodeled an urban
townhouse before it was popular to do so....a carpenter friend had helped
them with the
design, and shown them how to do much of the work themselves. And it was
beautiful,
full of pottery and soft lighting and art. They were affluent - that had
been obvious from
the casual but expensive clothes she wore, and the occasional piece of
jewelry. She
worked because she liked to, and it gave her an escape from her doctoral
work and her
teaching fellowship. She lit candles, brought drinks over to the couch
where I sat, and
settled in next to me...we chatted a bit about the day at work and
eventually I asked
when Tim would be home. "He's out of town on business...."

I nearly dropped my drink. She adjusted herself on the couch, letting her
shoes drop to
the floor, tucking her long legs up under her as she looked at me over the
rim of her
glass..."Are you disappointed?" 

No, of course not it's fine with me....it was too good to be true, but I
was so flustered, I
couldn't help trying to be cool.....I started trying to chat about where he
was. The
conversation just stalled and sat there, until she said "Let's talk about
him after dinner."

She slowly slipped her feet back into her shoes - fairly serious fuckme
pumps - and
liquidly made her way to the kitchen. After a few moments I followed. We
nearly collided
in the passage between the dining room and the kitchen, and she had just
reached for
the light switch. The kitchen light went out, and we were face to face in
the candlelight. I
realized, oddly, that even with her heels on, I had a good two inches on
her. I wiped the
thought from my mind as she simply rose up and put her soft lips to mine.
That's all that
was touching: our lips. Her breasts where painfully close to my chest. Her
hand on the
wall switch was near my face....her smell - God, her smell! - was all
around me, climbing
down into me. 

Her tongue touched mine, and for a moment, I thought I would grab her and
take her
right there on the floor. In truth, I was too flustered, too excited to
know what to do.  I was trembling, and so was she. We broke our kiss after
a long while, and looked at each other....she was smiling, her eyes
sparkling, and shaking her head from side to side as if in wonder. I smiled
too, and soon we were holding each other and laughing.

We recovered and shared another kiss. Hot, wet and hungry. When we came up
for air,
I said something suave like "so now, what?" and she said "I'm not sure. I
don't know where this all going, but whatever comes next, I don't want to
do it on an empty stomach!"

We ate in near silence....it was some sort of pasta I'd never had.  After
dinner, we
returned to the couch. "Mick, do you want to stay with me tonight?" "You
know I do." A long pause. "Are you sure?" "Sure I'm sure." I leaned in and
kissed her deeply, and wonder of wonders! I touched her breast through her
light blouse...she gasped softly into my mouth, and pressed her lips
tighter to mine, her tongue probing past mine as her hand on the back of my
head pulled me closer.

"I want us to do something different tonight....something really
special...I promise you'll
like it....and it's something I really, really, want. I mean for us. I want
to share something
special with you. Just trust me tonight..." She murmured these words softly
into my neck
and my ear and we returned to our kissing. 

She silently rose and led me to her bedroom...*their* bedroom, I dimly
thought. She
gently pushed my hands away when I reached for her, and with a deliberately
wicked
smile, she began to draw my shirt up over my chest, kissing up to my
nipples as she
went. I pulled the shirt the rest of the way up and off, and she began to
massage my stiff
cock through my jeans as she licked and sniffed and sucked at my chest and my
armpits. I tried to put my arms around her, but she firmly brought my hands
down to my
own hips as she worked at my button fly and belt. My cock sprung forth as
she lowered
my briefs and she let it brush her cheek as she went down sliding my jeans and
underwear down to my ankles. I stepped out of them as she knelt there
helping, her
breath on my thighs.

She tried to rise, but my hands on her head were firm - or did they plead?
She gave in,
and settled on her knees, looking up at me....so serious now, my laughing
lady. So
serious and so inquiring as she sought my eyes....she stroked me and
searched my face
from down there, then she examined my cock and balls, all the while
stroking and
holding....then she looked back up into my eyes as she opened brought her
soft, full lips
to the wet tip of my cock. Her tongue flicked out, but her eyes remained on
mine...she
drew my clear fluid into her mouth and seemed to swallow before pressing my
cock to
her lips, dragging it over their softness, harvesting more pre-cum with her
tongue. Still
staring into my eyes with that inquisitive look, she used my cockhead to
press her lips
open, and took the head into her hot mouth, her tongue softly stroking the
underside of
it.

With a groan, she finally broke eye contact and took several inches of me
into her
mouth holding onto my thighs as I gently held her head. She sucked and
pumped at me
for what seemed several minutes...could she feel how my knees were
shaking?....and
then she pulled away from my penis, breathing heavily, holding my length
against her
cheek, kissing into my pubic hair, and drawing my balls forward in her hand
to kiss as
her other hand held my cock......

Continued in Part II ... Comments to Mick at
benedictaSPAMFREE@anon.nymserver.com - But delete the uppercase part.

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