12/98 ____________________________
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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Metamorphosis (wife's first infidelity)
From: Nancy Delgato <gsnancy2@ameritech.net>
METAMORPHOSIS - the true story of a wife's first infidelity.
Hello my Internet friends. I have a story I want to share with you,
that I hope you'll enjoy. You may even want to e-mail me back about
it. I'd enjoy it if you did, and gave me your thoughts on it, or just
said hello, even.
First of all, let me tell you something of myself. I am 55 years old -
born December 1942. Although, everyone says I look MUCH younger than
that. It's nice to hear, really. If you like, I'll send a recent
picture of myself and you can judge for yourself. I am well built, I
guess, if perhaps just a little heavy. At least most of the extra
weight is where guys like it to be <smile>. My breasts are 36DD, so I
have trouble finding nice bras that fit me well. Believe me, Victoria's
Secret has little to offer for someone so endowed, and it's more than a
little frustrating at times - both for me and the men in my life. If
you want a somewhat clearer picture, I am 5'-4" tall and weigh 140
pounds. But I'm physically fit, mostly because I love hiking and ice
skating - which I do at least a couple times each week. You want to
know something a little more intimate? My nipples are rather large,
too. My pubic hair is a little sparse, and if I opened my legs for you,
which I'm prone to do by the way <another smile>, you'd have a very
clear view of the lips which define my sex. If I have one feature of
which I'm not proud, it's that my ass is a little too broad. Sometimes
heredity sucks. Still, I've found that some guys like it because
there's something to grab onto when they're fucking me back there, or
doggy-style in my pussy. Enough said for now? Hope I piqued your
interest.
As I said, I have a story. Many of them, actually, and I can think of
no better way to share them but here, where a person can reach a large
audience but retain their anonymity. (No, my real name isn't Nancy, but
that doesn't mean you won't eventually get to know me. Many have.)
I was married at 21, a virgin until my wedding night. Yes, really.
Unfortunately, the experience of my life, the one I'd been waiting for
so long, was tremendously unfulfilling --- as were most of the
subsequent sexual interludes my husband and I shared. In fact, I can't
even tell you for certain how long it was before I actually experienced
an orgasm from intercourse, but it would be measured in years. He was
one who would think first of satisfying himself and if I happened to get
off along the way then that was nice, but not necessary.
About 5 years into our marriage something happened that changed my
life. We owned a rental property out of town and our tenant was moving
out. As with most of the household duties, the chore of ensuring the
place was clean for the next tenant fell to me. I drove out to the
house with my vacuum and an assortment of cleaners, rags and brushes,
dressed in my work clothes - a halter and a pair of cutoff jeans.
On this last day of his occupancy, Brad, our departing tenant, was there
to clean as well, making sure to honor the terms of the lease in the way
he left the home. All of Brad's furnishings had been moved to his new
home, though, and cleaning was a breeze.
We were in the living room and I was washing windows while Brad
vacuumed. It was then, as I was stretching for the top panes, that I
noticed him looking at my chest. I glanced down at the objects of his
gaze and saw them jiggling beneath my halter as I worked. Believe me,
when these things jiggle, it's no small matter. I smiled to myself then
looked back at Brad to see if he was still looking. He was. It made me
feel a little tingly, and a little naughty - something I'd seldom felt
before. At the age of 26 I'd never even considered the option of having
sex with anyone other than my husband, nor had I yet at this point.
Still, Brad's obvious fascination with my body made me feel good and
with hardly any thought or purpose, I began to tease a little,
stretching farther, bending more blatantly and pointing my breasts in
his direction when I did, the halter offering an ample view of
cleavage. It was a hot summer day and the sweat-dampened garment clung
to my bosom. In the center of slightly darkened circles it was clear
that my nipples had hardened at the attention Brian was giving me. My
first conscious realization of my arousal came when I saw this sight
reflected in the glass of the window I was washing.
At first, I was flustered to know that this man's stare was turning me
on. As the minutes passed, however, I became more comfortable in my
arousal, to the point where my thoughts drifted to fantasy and I
considered what it might be like to let another man make love to me.
This too was somewhat of a surprise. Sex never played strongly on my
mind. Simply, it was seldom very enjoyable for me. I always felt that
this was at least in part my fault, that I just wasn't very good at it.
Other than the times I'd masturbated, I could count the number of
climaxes I'd had on the fingers of one hand, with fingers left over.
But this wasn't the direction my thoughts were going when I turned again
to look at Brad and saw the bulge in the front of his pants. Knowing
that he found me sexually attractive, desirable, heightened my own
arousal. Yes, I was horny. Yes, I was contemplating what it might be
like if Brad and I were to make love. But I had no intention of ever
acting on those feelings.
When Brad announced that he had finished running the vacuum I thanked
him for his work and told him how much we had appreciated having him as
a tenant. At this point I thought he would leave and I have to admit to
just a little twinge of anxiety over that thought. Instead, though, he
came over to me and offered to help me finish the windows. I told him
it wasn't necessary but he insisted, politely, reaching into the soapy
water for a sponge. We were now working side by side and, believe me,
the tingles became much more intense. I wondered if he realized the
effect he was having on me. By now I was feeling the dampness in my
crotch. It was then that the aroma reached my nostrils - the smell of a
horny woman. I knew Brad would be able to smell it too, but prayed he
didn't. I'm sure he saw the embarrassment on my face the next time our
eyes met and I averted mine, afraid to even look at him. Before I
turned, however, I saw a slight grin appear. God, he knew. I could
have died, wondering what he must be thinking.
For the next hour or so we worked together in this close proximity, the
tension between us mounting. Well, I wasn't certain of his tension, but
I was sure of mine. I became clumsy, fumbling around like a schoolgirl,
I imagined. In my mind, at least, every little thing seemed to make the
situation worse. I wished for it to be over, to get away before I did
anything more to embarrass myself. Then we finished the last window and
we were done.
I swiped my hand over my brow and my upper chest, pushing away the
sweat. Brad lifted his shirt and mopped his face with it, exposing his
muscular chest. My eyes locked on it and I couldn't help but feel like
I'd been swept back through time to become a swooning teenager. I looked
up when he lowered his shirt and our eyes locked. It was as if he was
looking directly into my soul, and he smiled. His next move was the
first of a number of very quick surprises.
Brad once again reached for his shirt, pulling it off over his head.
Then he closed the distance between us in a single step, to stand
directly in front of me. It was as if my feet were nailed to the
floor. I couldn't have moved if I wanted to, and I didn't want to. He
reached for the bottom of my halter and lifted. I said nothing as he
exposed my breasts, but joined him in gazing down at them to see my
erect nipples seemingly reaching out to him. He pulled us together,
bare breasts against bare chest. That first touch of our bodies,
together, made me gasp. I should say something, but I didn't.
He held me there for a few moments before pulling back slightly to give
himself room, and his hands went to my breasts, gently cupping them at
first, then squeezing, as he leaned to kiss my mouth. I kissed him back
and welcomed his tongue with my own as they danced together. While we
kissed he found my nipples, pinching, slightly pulling. I heard myself
moan and was even surprised at the sound.
While we kissed, Brad continued fondling my breasts and playing with my
nipples. The need between my legs was growing more urgent. One hand
snaked down my front and expertly unsnapped my cutoffs. Involuntarily,
I sucked in my breath when he reached inside my panties. Looking back I
now realize how silly my thoughts were at the time because it
immediately struck me that I couldn't let him touch me... there... my
pussy, because he'd then know how much I wanted him in me. I quickly
grabbed for his hand through my shorts and protested, although meekly.
Brad ignored this and a moment later he was pushing a finger up inside
me. Once again I moaned and the thoughts of any protests left me
completely. At that moment I became his and he could do whatever he
wanted to me. What he did, then, was to begin moving his finger in and
out of me, and lean to take one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking. My
hands went to his head, pulling him to me, urging him on.
Not long after, he lifted his head and kissed me once more, still
working his finger in and out of my pussy while we kissed. I opened my
legs to make his access to my sex easier, and pushed myself against his
hand. Up to then, I'd been a more than willing but hardly active
participant. That changed. Could that actually be my hand reaching
into his pants, searching for his manhood? I found my objective and
wrapped my fingers around it, tugging slightly.
Brad pulled his finger out of me and his hand from between my legs. It
left me wanting... needing... feeling the void inside me that begged to
be filled. He reached for my shorts and pushed them and my panties down
past my hips. Gravity took them the rest of the way. With the
exception of my halter which was now practically up around my neck, I
stood naked for the first time in front of a man other than my husband.
Brad quickly disposed of the halter too. I lifted my arms so he could
pull it off me and toss it aside. Once more his hands went for my
breasts, then his mouth again found my nipples, sucking first one then
the other. I'd never felt this kind of need, this heated desire.
I reached out for his pants and unfastened them then pushed them down.
His hands on my shoulders coaxed me gently downwards and I knelt in
front of him, pulling his pants to his ankles before he stepped out of
them. His erection was directly before me and I stared. Inadvertently,
I compared his to my husband's, the only other one I'd ever seen...
size... shape... color. I was engrossed by his cock and studied it
closely, then took it in my hand and looked up at his face.
I stroked him. He looked down at me, smiling, pushing his hips forward
while his hand nudged the back of my head. I knew what he wanted.
Still looking into his eyes I told Brad I'd never done that before. It
was true. It's something my husband had suggested only once, a request
that I'd ignored. Brad told me that it was ok if I didn't want to, that
he would understand. My answer was to lean to his cock and tentatively
touch it with my tongue before opening my mouth to place my lips around
the tip and slide them down the shaft, then pull back, sucking. I soon
got into a rhythm and, while I sucked, I cupped and held, then gently
squeezed his balls. Brad was patient and let me work at my own pace and
take only as much of him in my mouth as I could comfortably accept.
Finally, with a hand on my shoulder, Brad stopped me. I pulled my face
back from his cock and looked up at him, then asked if I was doing
something wrong. He told me that what I was doing felt wonderful, but
that he wanted to feel his cock inside me, that he wanted to fuck me.
His choice of that word got to me, it made me feel even more wanton. I
told him I needed him to fuck me... right now.
Brad knelt in front of me, facing me, then reached to lower me to my
back on the floor. A brief twinge of guilt washed over me. It wasn't
about to stop me from what we were inevitably going to do, but I needed
him to understand. I told him I'd never been with anyone but my
husband. Brad offered me an out, saying that we didn't have to do
this. I didn't take it. Instead, I told him I needed it, needed it
badly, wanted it desperately. I laid back and opened my legs for him,
taking him by the hand and pulled him between them.
My mind was reeling as Brad positioned himself before me. Thoughts were
flashing through my brain... the most memorable one being that I was
actually going to do this, that this handsome and sexy man was about to
fuck me... not have sex... not make love... we were going to fuck. I
felt him lining his cock up to enter me and I gazed into his eyes as he
pushed and I felt the lips of my pussy part for him. Slowly, gently, he
eased into me and soon I was full of him. We held still, as I savored
the moment. But now, I wanted it, and asked him to fuck me, please fuck
me.
He started so slowly that it nearly drove me crazy. it wasn't long,
though, before the heat and momentum has his balls slapping against me.
I wrapped my legs around his back, nearly begging him to fuck me deeper
and harder. Almost at once, I started cumming. It nearly took me by
surprise. What surprised me most, though, was how long I came. One
orgasm running into the next in one seemingly continuous climax. He
fucked me long, hard, and fast.
My pussy spasmed over and over as the orgasms wracked my body. I hardly
even noticed when Brad stiffened. Then, with one final lunge, he was
filling me with cum as his cock pulsed inside me. A brief moment of
panic... in my lust, I'd given absolutely no thought to the fact that I
wasn't protected. I set it aside, intent on my enjoyment. Whatever
happened, would happen. My pussy was still twitching when Brad pulled
out and lay beside me.
Unlike my husband, who would at this time roll over and go to sleep,
Brad put his arms around me and held me. I felt warm and protected,
content and wonderfully fucked. It was all so new and fantastic. In
the five years I'd been having sex I had no idea it could be like this.
We lay, facing each other, my head against Brad's chest, one of his legs
inserted partially between my own. I dozed, I assumed briefly. When I
woke he was kissing my forehead and I could feel that his prick had
stiffened once again. I tilted my head and looked into his eyes, and
told him that I'd never experienced anything like this before in my
life. He simply smiled. I reached between us for his cock then moved
my body over his, straddling him.
I tipped back my head, the pleasure intense as I took him inside me.
Then, leaning forward, I stared at his face, pushing down hard until his
prick was fully embedded in my cunt. Brad pushed up to meet me but I
told him to lay still, relax, and let me do the work... that I was going
to fuck him, now. And I did. I did let him reach up to squeeze my tits
as I rode his cock. It was then that I learned how much I enjoyed it to
have my nipples treated so roughly as he pinched and pulled with
mounting enthusiasm. It even became painful. But the pain turned,
surprisingly, to pleasure, and the pleasure tipped me over the edge.
Again I was cumming with this man's cock sliding in and out of me. In
one afternoon I experienced more climaxes than in my entire life,
previously. I was astonished by the orgasms I was experiencing.
Below me, Brad began grunting, groaning, and cumming, and once more his
sperm washed my insides. Whatever fears I had earlier about him getting
me pregnant were now gone, forgotten. There was only pleasure. Intense
pleasure.
Brad's climax subsided and I rolled off him, panting, feeling his cum
oozing out of me. He turned to look at me, then kissed me, briefly. He
told me I was amazing. Imagine, me, amazing. I smiled broadly at that
thought. We rested for a while then, finally, stood up, acknowledging
that our time together had come to an end. Brad's new home was hundreds
of miles away and we would likely never see each other again. But this
time together and the experiences we shared changed my life forever.
For him, I was probably just a good fuck. For me, he was that, and
more. He was a catalyst. He opened my eyes and my life to the joys
that sex could bring.
Standing there now, though, I felt a little uncomfortable. That is,
until I looked down at the carpet and laughed. I couldn't believe the
huge wet spot that between us we'd made there. Brad looked down and his
laughter joined my own and he commented that it was obvious we'd had a
good time. I turned my attention back to him and smiled, telling him
that I'd had the very best time of my life. We hugged, kissed, then
pulled away from each other and dressed. Minutes later, he was gone.
The squishy feeling between my legs as I drove home reminded me of the
events of the afternoon and I smiled as I replayed them in my head.
Home... my thoughts turned to home. Suddenly, I felt guilty, and more
than a little panicky. I found myself wondering, worrying, if my
husband would know what I'd done... if he would look at me and see it in
my eyes. My fear drove me to pull into a gas station and use the
bathroom. I washed my pussy and dried it, then looked at my panties.
They were soaked with Brad's cum. What if my husband saw them? I
determined that showing up at home with no panties would be better than
being caught wearing ones that were filled with another man's cum. I
threw them away and put on my shorts.
Many thoughts entered my mind as I continued my drive. What if Brad got
me pregnant? Once again I decided not to think about it. But what
about sex, and would I EVER feel that good again? Certainly not with my
husband. What would I do about it? Would I do this again? Could I do
this again? Was the pleasure so great that I would risk my marriage
over it? Over the need for it? Suddenly I was angry. Angry with my
husband. The man who for five years had put his own pleasure before
mine. Suddenly I realized what a selfish bastard he was. I started to
cry.
Again I pulled off the road, this time until my tears had subsided and I
could continue to drive.
When I got home, he asked me what had taken me so long. I lied, telling
him I'd stopped to visit my brother. The answer satisfied him. Later
that night, as my husband's cock was pistoning in and out of me, I
closed my eyes and imagined that it was Brad laying over me, and I came
almost immediately.
A couple days later my husband and I drove out to the house to meet a
prospective tenant. The woman pointed to the stain on the living room
carpet, asking what it was. My husband repeated her question, adding
that he thought I'd cleaned the rug. Inside, I was smiling at the
reminder of how wonderfully Brad had fucked me on that very spot. I
told the woman and my husband both that I didn't know what the stain
was, but that it was worse before I cleaned, and that I'd clean it again
and I was sure it would come off. The stain is long gone, but not my
memories of that fantastic afternoon that changed my life 29 years ago.
I was right, I never saw Brad again, but I'll always remember him.
Thank you, Brad. There will always be a special place in my heart for
you.
My first husband and I have been divorced for about 12 years and I'm now
married to a much more caring and thoughtful man. Since that afternoon
I've had many more encounters. Yes, sometimes now my infidelity bothers
me but it has never interfered with my pleasure. My new husband knows
about my behavior in my first marriage. After all, I was still married
when we started sleeping together. But I'm always careful and he has no
idea, I hope, that I'm still the same, that I welcome the occasional
tryst, revel in it, even. About those fears of pregnancy, well, as far
as anyone knows, my husband fathered the child. We had two boys
together and, frankly, I really can't be sure who their fathers are. I
know I should feel bad about that but I can't help believe that if he'd
treated me better, it wouldn't have been an issue. My conscience? It's
clear.
Well, that's my story, my first story anyway. There are more. I hope
you enjoyed reading it, and perhaps look forward to the ones which
follow. Of course, I've changed the names but for the most part it's
all true, even the conversational elements, to the best of my
recollection. If you'd like to write to me with comments or questions,
I'd welcome that - or even if you just want to introduce yourself and
say hello. My email address is gsnancy2@ameritech.net. Unless I'm
inundated with emails (which I doubt will happen), I'll answer every
one.
Kisses, Nancy.