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Things Happen
by Anonymous (adress defunct)

***

A wife has to make a business trip and miss sex with her 
husband who had been gone on business himself before 
that, so she was feeling pretty horny when she met an 
older man from New Zealand in a hotel bar. (MF, oral, 
wife-cheat, phone-sex, affair)

***

Things happened, but why to me?

Dick, my husband, had been dealing with some family 
estate problems all last weekend and didn't get back 
home until late Monday night. I really missed him and 
our phone sex was a poor substitute for the real thing. 
Ah, but we saved Tuesday nights for close encounters of 
the sexual kind. I could hardly wait.

Things went downhill, though. My company's president, 
Henry, called an emergency meeting the first thing on 
Tuesday. That was only three days ago, but for me, a 
lifetime ago. "I need a tiger team. Our biggest 
distributor is trying to strong-arm us into deeper 
discounts, because our stuff isn't moving off their 
shelves fast enough. What are we going to do? Bill, you 
head up the team. Brian Hills, the big honcho over 
there, and I hate each other. If I get next to him the 
personal chemistry will for sure kill any chances we 
have. I need to delegate the whole problem to you - I 
can't be objective. It's your baby, I'll trust your 
judgment, OK?"

Bill looked up. "OK, Henry. I'll deal with it."

Bill's our 'go-to guy'. He wasted no time at all dealing 
out assignments like a machine.

Potential lost income analysis went to one of the 
accountants, alternative sales/marketing schemes to our 
VP of sales. Then he turned to me. I knew it was coming. 
"Marsha, you've had a lot of contact with Brian Hills, 
hell, you used to work for him. I need you to get out 
there and meet with him. Find out all you can, see 
what's going on. Can you leave on the noon flight?"

Interesting how English works. 'Can you leave' sounds 
like a question, doesn't it? Is anyone confused about it 
being an order?

"Sure Bill. I'm on my way."

Brian was a mentor to me, and always honest. I might be 
able to help. But now I'd be away, probably overnight! I 
hoped Dick wouldn't be too upset. I was upset enough for 
both of us!

"Sure, honey, I understand. Good luck. Call when you 
know what flight you'll come back on, I'll pick you up 
when you get home," he said when I called him after 
throwing some stuff in an overnight bag. Why was I 
worried, Dick is a peach of a guy. He's still so 
considerate, after a whole decade of marriage. I should 
have known. I took a cab, not having time or interest in 
parking at the airport, especially since Dick wanted to 
pick me up.

I actually got to Brian's office at 3:30 that same day. 
And in a couple of hours, the problem was solved. It was 
more a misunderstanding than anything - it's just that 
Brian and Henry can't talk to each other without anger 
flaring up. "Marsha, you tell those guys what our new 
proposal is, and tell them that it's good as gold so 
long as you become the account executive."

I called the office. A clerk expected the call, and 
arranged a conference call with the tiger team, and 
Henry. I explained the deal on a conference call to the 
rest of the team. "We'll just let their payables extend 
to 90 days for a couple of months without hassling them 
about it. We'll do some reduced shipments, but we 
expected that anyway, it's part of our forecast. When 
the inventory gets down to a reasonable level they'll 
start paying in 45 again. Any problems with that?"

The team's accountant pointed out we could deal with the 
dip in cash flow, and the balance sheet would hardly be 
affected at the end of the quarter. 

Success!

Henry spoke up. "Good job, Marsha. I hope you can get 
home tonight, but flights back here out of Chicago are 
pretty bad at night, Anyhow, I don't expect to see you 
at work until Thursday. And congratulations on your new 
responsibility for that account. Go celebrate. We'll 
figure out a good reward." When Henry says that, you can 
take it to the bank.

Brian offered his hand. "We have a deal. I'd take you to 
dinner, but we have other plans. Thanks, Marsha, for 
helping us work this out."

What a day. I got stroking from everyone. I wanted to 
celebrate.

I had a cab take me to O'Hare. There was no way home 
that made any kind of sense that evening. "Be 
civilized", I thought. "Take the 9AM flight home, take 
the day off, and celebrate with Dick."

I decided to stay close to the airport. I took the 
shuttle to the airport Hilton, and checked in. I dumped 
my overnight bag in the room, and called home. Dick 
wasn't there, but had left a message for me on the 
answering machine. He was, he said, going out for a meal 
with Bill, who called to explain how important this trip 
was. He promised to call me latter, if I gave him my 
hotel and room number, and went on to say he was 
lonesome already, and he wasn't even in bed yet. That 
meant, I knew, we'd have a hot phone conversation - 
phone sex, even - tonight, later.

What a rush this day had been! I wanted to shout with 
joy, to celebrate. 

Solo celebrations suck!

"I need a drink!" I wanted that, even more than food, 
and I had nothing to eat since breakfast, and that was 
only a piece of fruit with Dick in the morning - that 
seemed like days ago.

I found a table in the lounge. It was already eight 
o'clock - oh, nine, back home. It was the end of a long 
day.

The first rum and coke went down fast - drinking for 
effect, I guess. No food, and a fast drink.

That would work. I could enjoy the second one more. I 
looked around. Not too many people here - it wasn't too 
early for bar trade. Where was everyone? A couple of 
older guys were sitting together - they must be here on 
business, too. There's that other guy at the bar - about 
forty, nice looking. A couple of couples... Hmm. I'll 
have a quiet, relaxing evening, an early bed time and be 
home tomorrow. "I'm as high as I can be, I'll bet I 
won't be able to sleep. I hope I'm as excited tomorrow 
when I'm with Dick," I thought. 

I was coming down from my high. Crashing down is a 
better way to describe it. Some celebration. I wanted 
another drink. The routine was to go to the bar and get 
it. I did.

The forty year old guy was a couple of bar stools away, 
and I looked at his reflection in the mirror behind the 
bar. His eyes met mine, and we maintained eye contact 
for a second or two too long. Nice enough looking guy, 
sort of rugged looking, I decided, reaching for my 
drink.

"I'm sorry?" I said almost spontaneously, looking up, 
hearing something directed at me, but not hearing it 
clearly. 

"I said, 'Lass, I'd enjoy buying that for you, 
especially if you wouldn't mind a little company at your 
table.'"

I hate drinking in bars alone and eating alone when I 
travel. This was safe enough and the guy's accent was 
intriguing.

"Aussie?" 

"Lass, that's could be an insult to a New Zealander, if 
you weren't so pretty."

Edward sat with me. I learned more about his island 
country in the first few minutes than I ever expected to 
know. "More sheep than people", "Two Islands, really", 
"God made our place after practicing on England and 
Australia, and finally got it right".

He was going home tomorrow - "A whole twenty-four hours 
of traveling, but worth every second, to get back." He'd 
been gone almost a month and missed home, his wife, and 
his little girl.

He learned about me, too, especially about today's 
adventure, my leaving home so quickly, and how I wanted 
to celebrate but couldn't do that alone.

By then we were on a first name basis. "Marsha, you 
didn't even have a chance to eat, let alone celebrate, 
did you?" He stood: "Let's get something here."

The restaurant, on the top floor, wasn't crowded at all, 
and Edward selected a table against the floor to ceiling 
windows, looking out over the airport. He took my hand 
and led me there. The human contact was warm, nice. 

We sat side by side, so we could both look out at the 
scene. It was beautiful - I think airports at night 
always are. I enjoyed his company, and the dinner. I 
pretended it was almost an extension of my business 
meeting, and insisted on paying for my meal in spite of 
his objections. If only Dick was here.

I didn't want the day to end, I was so hyper and excited 
about everything. So, when he said "Let's go to the 
observation deck - it's a warm night, it'll be fun, and 
a nice way to end the evening," I agreed it was a great 
idea. Besides, I wasn't ready to be alone: not yet, 
anyway.

The hotel shuttle bus took us to the terminal. The 
observation deck was wonderful. We stood there, watching 
a chain of diamonds, landing lights, approach the 
airport, one after another, the first jet clearing the 
runway at one end seconds before the next landed. The 
parallel runway was just as busy with takeoffs. "There's 
nothing like this back home," Edward said, taking my 
hand to get my attention, and pointing to a Gulfstream 
G2 moving on the taxiway below us, on its way to 
somewhere. His hand, on mine, that human contact, lasted 
a few seconds longer than it needed to. I didn't object.

There were two other couples standing at the railing, 
too, looking like lovers, holding hands, enjoying the 
same sights we were. There was a lull in arrivals, and 
we looked around. Both of the other couples were taking 
advantage of the break, wrapped in each other's arms, 
kissing. It was so romantic, and I was jealous of them. 
I was missing my husband. I was missing the warmth of 
that kind of hugging, that kissing, I was lonesome.

Then, I felt Edward's hand on my shoulder. He was 
feeling all of the same things.

I turned to him. 

His hand provided just a hint of pressure, the most 
gentle urging, a suggestion and I responded, moving 
closer to him, into his arms, it was the most natural 
thing to do. 

His other hand reached for my chin, and tilted my head 
upwards. A kiss, he wanted to kiss me. 

I-I... didn't stop him. Instead, I closed my eyes. I 
felt him move toward me and his lips met mine.

The stress of the day, the excitement of my success, 
cocktails, the dinner's wine, all contributed. I felt 
his lips open, and I opened mine, too, and the kiss 
stopped being casual, tongues began caressing, bodies 
began pressing together, and the environment went from 
friendly and social to intense and sexual.

That kiss ended - nothing was said - and we turned to 
watch the airplanes again, lost in thought, silent. That 
was so nice, but so wrong. What was that all about? What 
just happened? What was going to happen?

We had talked so easily before - now there was silence. 

"Uh, I just don't do things like that," I whispered into 
the night. 

"Nor me, Marsha." A moment later he turned, and took my 
hand - gently, not aggressively, and we went to the 
airport shuttle bus, and back to the hotel.

More silence. This wasn't the comfortable silence we had 
enjoyed together earlier - it was tense, electric.

As we walked into the lobby he gestured toward the 
lounge - "A last drink?" I shook my head no, and went 
towards the elevator. He joined me. He touched 8, and I 
pressed 12: his action was an unspoken invitation, and 
mine, a refusal. The doors closed, the elevator 
ascended.

He turned to me again, his body language a question, and 
again, I was in his arms - a second kiss, a good-bye 
kiss, so very nice, so romantic, this meeting of two 
strangers, their paths crossing only once, ending on so 
poignant a note. 

The elevator stopped at eight, and the door began 
opening. He released me, and turned toward the opening 
door. "Marsha, it was a lovely evening. I don't want it 
to end. Will you come to my room?" He was reoffering his 
earlier unspoken invitation, it was almost too tempting.

I shook my head no, and he stepped out of the elevator - 
"It was lovely," he said, "thank you. . .good-bye, 
Marsha, good-bye, lassie."

I did something I thought I'd never in my life do! I 
reached toward him. Toward his hand. Nothing was said, 
everything was understood.

The elevator does sensed the obstruction, stopped 
closing, and opened, instead. He understood, turned, and 
came back in.

The next kiss, full of passion, so distracted me I 
didn't notice the doors close again, and didn't notice 
the elevator start up again, and stop again, until the 
doors opened a last time.

I broke the embrace, and stepped though the doors, and I 
couldn't, or at least didn't, resist my impulse to touch 
his arm, this time I was doing the inviting.

My room was half way down the hallway. He took the card 
key from my hand and opened the door, and let me go in, 
then followed me there.

He turned the night latch, locking the door, and took me 
by the hand past the bathroom door, into the bedroom.

The drapes were open, the airport was in view, as 
romantic as before - more erotic, here, in this private 
place.

I looked out at the scene, not seeing it, too aware of 
him in the room with me. He was behind me, his arms 
around my waist, looking out, too. No, that was a sham - 
I felt him pressing against me, his body firm, hard, and 
that extra pressure, too, from him, from his erection.

There was no presumption here, no questions here. Those 
had been asked, and answered.

I turned within the circle of his arms, again we kissed, 
this time his hands didn't confine themselves to my 
back, but roamed from between my shoulders to my 
buttocks, my hips, pulling my pelvis to his, and I could 
feel his excitement, too, pressing against me. I was not 
resisting at all, my own pelvis was pressing into his - 
I was doing that, meeting his pressure, not retreating 
from it.

No words - not one.

The kiss broke. He, looking into my eyes, reached 
between us, got my jacket unbuttoned, and pushed it to 
my shoulders. I dropped my arms, and he peeled it off 
with my help, and we let it fall to the floor.

Then began the next kiss.

It was as exciting as the last - no, more exciting than 
that. I could feel myself growing more excited, and him, 
too. . .

"I don't do things like this," I muttered, "I love my 
husband," while my actions made lies of my words, I was 
'doing things like this'.

"He's not here, lassie, I am. I'm completely here." One 
of his hands left my back, and it took mine by the 
wrist. "I'll show you." He pulled my hand to his lips, 
where he kissed it, then pulled it to his neck and 
between us, over his chest, over his suspenders, down, 
to his belly.

He looked carefully at me, looking for acquiescence, for 
objection, and finding neither, he moved my hand further 
down. "Feel how completely here I am."

I could feel him, his erection extended along his pant 
leg - warm, hard! Even though the material I could feel 
it moving, growing, pulsing. And I wanted it - him. What 
was I doing?

He let my hand go - I continued to touch him there, my 
fingers moving, feeling that length, that excitement...

Our lips bonded again, his tongue was moving against 
mine again, but he had moved to keep a gap between our 
bodies, making it easier for me to touch him, and he had 
a hand there between us, busy with something, but I 
didn't care, I loved this - this celebration of my 
success, I needed to share it. 

He took my wrist again - "No, I like touching you," I 
objected, but he lifted it, away from his pants, away 
from that warm shaft, that place I was enjoying 
touching, away from exciting myself and him by touching 
him. He lifted my hand over his trousers, higher, to 
where his pant's waist band should be - but wasn't! He 
had opened his trousers, I was touching soft cotton.

He guided my hand higher, under his shirt, to the waist 
band of his briefs.

His hand left my wrist, and moved over my fingers, 
pressing them, so that their tips were against his skin, 
at his short's waistband.

Then, under it.

I returned his stare as he looked into my eyes, and into 
my soul. His hand found my wrist again, and pressed 
downward, very gently, not forcing me at all.

"Do what you were doing like this, on the inside. Touch 
me like this," he said, "I want you to, again, this 
way."

I felt the elastic waistband move over the back of my 
hand, my fingers felt warm skin, the irregularity that 
was his navel.

His hand on my wrist made just the most subtle of 
movements, suggesting lower. Then

my fingers were brushing coarse hair and finally, now 
without any help from him, the last incremental 
distance, to where I wanted it, my fingers were tracing 
down the shaft rising from his groin.

His eyes stayed fixed on mine, and I watched his pupils 
dilate as my hand moved to his penis's head, and behind 
it, feeling the heat of his scrotum with my fingers, 
almost weighing it, with his penis warm along my wrist, 
then finally trapping his shaft between my forefinger 
and thumb, moving, stroking.

"Oh yes, like that," he whispered.

"I just don't do things like this" I whispered again, 
while doing things just like that.

"You're celebrating - and it's with me you're doing it, 
lass."

"I am," I said, "with you," feeling how hot he was, the 
subtle feeling of his foreskin being guided by my 
fingers over his cock's head, then being pulled back 
again, knowing that head would be swollen, knowing where 
it was going to go, soon.

"I have a month's worth of passion waiting where you're 
touching," he whispered, and I could feel that passion, 
that heat, pulsing in my hand. "I want to use the entire 
month's worth with you, in you."

A voice, could it have been mine?, whispered, "Yes, yes, 
you will... in me."

His own fingers pulled at his shirt's buttons, its 
cuffs. Shrugging, he got his suspenders off his 
shoulders, and quickly his shirt too was on the floor. 
His pants, losing their support, fell to his knees, then 
lower still.

He kicked off his shoes, and stepped out of his pants, 
standing there, wearing socks and briefs. 

"Keep touching me?" he asked, or ordered, it didn't 
matter, because I wasn't going to stop, my hand under 
his briefs was exciting him, and me.

He worked at my blouse's buttons, pulling it from my 
skirt, then pushing until it, like my jacket, fell to my 
elbows, held up by my arms.

I stopped touching him for a moment, and pulled at my 
blouse, too, getting it over my arms, and off.

He used the moment to lift one foot, then the other, 
taking off his socks.

Our eyes met again, as he reached for his waistband, and 
pushed down. He stepped out of his shorts and stood 
nude, erect, beautiful, forbidden.

"Are you ready for that much passion?" he asked, and 
assuming he knew the answer, said "now you, you have to 
be undressed, too, undressed like I am."

"I know." My skirt was easy - a clasp, a zipper, and it 
fell.

I reached behind me, pulling, so that my slip climbed up 
my back, and over my head, and off.

I didn't care! I wanted his naked body next to mine!

I was in his arms again, I could feel that penis pushing 
against the skin of my belly as he pulled me close to 
him, my arms around him, holding him to me, feeling that 
body, that nakedness.

"Wait," I whispered.

I turned my back to him.

I felt tension increase on my bra strap as his fingers 
worked at the clasp, then the pressure was released, my 
bra was hanging from its shoulder straps, loose over my 
breasts.

I turned back to him, my hands reaching to his face, and 
watched as he put one hand on my shoulder, and pulled at 
a strap. I turned my head, watching his other hand on my 
shoulder, too, moving that strap, too.

He pulled the straps along my arms. I was without 
modesty, without shame.

I wanted him to see me.

I dropped my arms to in front of me, down, and the cups, 
already loose, fell away, and that garment was gone, 
too. My breasts, exposed, in view now, my nipples were 
telling him of my own excitement, telling him something 
he already knew.

My hands were already close to my hips - I found the 
tops of my pantyhose, and pushed that down, too, to my 
thighs. I was exposed, too, and I didn't care. I sat on 
the bed, pulled my pantyhose free of my legs, and feet.

Free of clothing - nude, both of us!

Another embrace, another kiss, our bodies in total 
contact now, tongues together, and breasts against 
chest, and cock hard against my belly, his hands on my 
buttocks again, fondling them...

"Wait," I said again.

I stood beside the bed, pulling at its cover. "Get that 
side," I motioned toward the other side of the bed.

We pulled the cover off the bed, and the blanket, and 
the top sheet.

And looked at each other, on opposite sides of the bed, 
looking like a white altar, .ready for a very human 
ceremony.

He reached across it, and I did, too, our hands meeting, 
pulling, so that we were kneeling, facing each other.

His hand on my neck pulled to the side, and he and I 
both lay down, on our sides, not quite touching, but 
close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from him.

He moved toward me, and I, turning to meet him, met his 
lips, and found myself pushed back, him over me, our 
mouths open, this kiss beyond seduction, even beyond 
foreplay, as I felt his chest meet mine, pressing on my 
breasts. then the pressure of his cock, pushing at me, 
my legs opening, welcoming him - it - between them, my 
knees lifting, guiding his hips, centering him over me.

"So nice," he muttered, his lips moving to my throat, as 
he slid his body lower, until his lips met my breast.

Good! He wasn't rushing! I had a hand under that breast, 
lifting it, holding it, making it easier for him, for 
his mouth.

He stopped that, and moved up again. "So sexy" he said, 
taking my hand, my left hand, kissing it, kissing my 
fingers, putting my ring finger in his mouth, and I 
could feel his tongue and teeth on my wedding band!

"Oh," escaped from my lips, "my ring..."

He took that hand, and pushed it down, between us, 
rolling off me a little, lying on his side.

"Look at that!" he commanded. He pushed my hand to his 
cock, wrapping my fingers around it.

I saw what he wanted me to, the glint of that ring, on 
that hand, on his cock!

"Watch." He brought his own left hand to my face, his 
fingers gentle on my lips. "Open them."

I did, and his ring finger found its way in, I could 
feel his wedding ring, too, as my tongue wet his 
fingers.

"Now watch!" He pulled that hand out, and let it his 
ring finger trace down, over my body.

To there!

I saw that finger stroking at my lips, pressing against 
them, along them, and watched as I tilted my pelvis up, 
presenting those lips to him, and watched as somehow my 
knees parted even more, widening me, and his fingers 
weren't just stoking my lips now, their tips were within 
them, and then the ring's glitter disappeared, in me!

"Oh." - So erotic, so sexy. Dick used to do the same 
thing to me - I loved it!

His lips found my breast again, teasing it, while his 
fingers were busy in me, all of the stimulation working, 
until his fingers stopped what they were doing, and he 
moved from beside me, to on me, while his mouth stayed 
fastened to my breast. I could feel his cock, his penis, 
on my thighs, and I could feel how my thighs parted 
wider, allowing it between them.

He was being urgent now! His mouth abandoned my breast, 
moved higher, to my neck, and his penis moved higher, 
too, closer, and then - the phone rang!

"Oh hell, only my husband knows I'm here. What'll I do?" 
I was panicking.

"Answer the phone. Talk to him. He'll be worried 
otherwise. But I'm not going to stop now," Edward said, 
reaching for it, handing it to me, and moving down 
again, kissing my neck.

"Hello?"

It was Dick! I knew it. He'd know what's happening!

"Honey, I'm so excited. Henry called here hours ago, 
you're going to get promoted to vice president!" Dick 
almost screamed. "I wish I was with you, I want to 
celebrate with you!"

I knew what he meant. A nice meal, some drinks, then 
we'd make love for hours.

"I wish you were here, too" I said, distracted by 
Edward's mouth, now fastened to my breast.

"Me too," Dick said, "I want to be holding you now."

"Me, too."

How could my voice be so steady while Edward was doing 
what he was doing to me?

"I wish you were in this bed with me, pretend to be, 
pretend to be next to me, I need you to, like we did 
when I was away last week," he pleaded.

What a perverted idea - how could he want me to do phone 
sex with him when... but I could. I could do that!

"I will. I will do that, I will pretend you're here," I 
said. It was a way we used for us to be close 
emotionally over the miles, over the years. It was a way 
of staying connected, we'd done it before, but never 
like this!

The stimulation I was getting from Edward made me 
realize I could. I could share intercourse with him, and 
phone sex with my husband at the same time! 

I couldn't! I love my husband, I couldn't do that!

"I want you naked on your bed, just like I'm naked on 
this one," he said.

The phone was far enough away from my ear so that Edward 
could hear.

I had to do what he wanted, I had to please Dick. 
Otherwise he'd know - I don't want him to know!

"Honey, I am naked on this bed," I whispered into the 
phone.

Edward looked up at me, understanding.

"Good", Dick said, "will you touch yourself for me, 
because I'm not there? Can you get excited without me 
doing something to you?"

"Yes, yes, I AM excited," I assured him. "You get 
excited too. Dick, make yourself excited, too, get as 
excited as I am."

Edward moved higher, his face above mine, his erection 
pressing into me.

"I am," he grunted. "I want you to touch yourself or 
something, too. Do you have a vibrator or something you 
can use?"

I paused, glancing at Edward - he heard.

"I don't have a vibrator here, that's at home, honey, 
but maybe I can find something. . ."

I wouldn't dare, would I?

I would!

"Oh, I've got something. A tube, a tube full of lotion, 
that might be the right size," I whispered into the 
phone, while reaching down between us, to Edward's 
penis, my tube, that was the right size. Edward, no 
dummy, lifted up, knowing what was going to happen.

"Is it body lotion?" Dick wanted to know.

"Yeah, yes Dick, it's a tube of body lotion."

"Good, put some on you, use it, get all wet, put it in 
you!"

"In me? Is that what you want me to do? I will, I will 
use it, I'll get it in me now," I said, knowing Dick 
thought I was teasing him, and Edward, Edward knew, he 
knew exactly...

"Dick, I will. I'm holding it close, where you want it 
to be..."

I guided Edward's penis to my vulva, moving it along its 
lips until its head parted them, and he pressed forward, 
pushing at me.

"I'm moving it along my lips, honey, exciting myself 
with it, can you imagine that..."

"You're getting me so hard," Dick said, imagining the 
wrong thing.

"It's hard to get it started, it's a little too big. I 
have to push harder."

"Use some lotion, push harder, put it in," Dick urged, 
thinking he was urging me, but it was Edward who was 
pushing. Edward, who heard my husband tell me to push 
harder .

"I'm... it won't..." I was saying to Dick, to Edward, 
then; "OH!"

I hoped Dick couldn't hear our pelvises slap.

"Good!" came from the earpiece and I gasped out the 
paced "oh, oh, oh," that Dick was used to hearing from 
me, but they were sounds in keeping with Edward's 
motions.

"I'm doing it with you," Dick said.

There were no words spoken for a few minutes, just 
panting, Dick using his hand, and me using Edward.

"I'm doing what you want, Dick..." I told him.

"Do it, give yourself an orgasm," he said, grunting as 
he did that to himself, too.

Then, "I'm close, Dick," I said, truthfully.

"Me too," he said.

Edward looked at me, and whispered, "I'm ready too." 

It washed over me, a complete orgasm, and over Edward, 
too, as he pushed time and again, soundlessly, filling 
me with himself.

"Oh Dick, I'm cumming, right now!"

Edward was still pushing, pressing as deeply as he 
could, thrusting, when Dick said "I made a mess of the 
bed cover."

"This bed's all wet, too," I told my husband. "Honey, go 
wash up, and change the bedding, and we can celebrate 
the right way tomorrow when I get home, OK?"

"OK, honey, I better do that, and clean up. I'll see you 
about noon.

'Bye. I love you." And Dick hung up.

I let the phone fall to the pillow, and met Edward's 
lips.

"I never dreamt of doing anything like that" I muttered, 
after that kiss ended, shame and modesty taking charge. 
I pulled a sheet over my body.

"No, no, lassie. That won't do."

Hs stood, and moved to the foot of the bed, naked, his 
cock not quite erect.

"That won't do at all."

He grasped the sheet, and started pulling. I felt it 
move under my arms, over my breasts, sliding down.

Until my breasts, then my stomach, my crotch, my legs, 
were all exposed, the sheet's progress down matched by 
his increasing arousal.

"We're not done by any means," he said. "Not me, and not 
you. Not for a while, yet. Come." He extended his hand.

I sat up, taking it.

He pulled, and I left the bed, following him, to the 
bathroom.

He turned the shower on, adjusted the temperature, 
stepped in, and gestured for me to get in, too.

Two warm bodies, soapy bodies, hands mutually washing, 
exciting each other, preparing each for the other.

Two large towels, rubbing, drying, providing excuses for 
touching, stimulating, helping us in something that was 
truly foreplay.

And back to the second bed in my room, we were clean 
now, hygiene not a restriction now.

He lay beside me for a moment, his penis not fully 
erect.

"I need a few minutes more for recovery, lassie, but 
there's no reason for us to not play."

He bent over me, his mouth on my neck again.

His tongue was electric, tracing from there to my ear.

He pushed a little at my shoulder, I rolled a bit away 
from him, and felt him move again, and now his tongue 
was doing its magic on the back of my neck.

Oh, that felt so nice, so erotic in a quiet way.

He pushed again, until I was on my belly, stretched out 
on the bed, arms reaching above my head, and I felt his 
weight on me.

That tongue touched my neck, then my ear, then lower, to 
my shoulder. He moved down, I could feel that, and his 
kisses were at the middle of my back.

Another movement, and now, he was kissing my side. I 
wanted to roll back facing him, but he held me as I was, 
on my belly.

His mouth, his tongue, moved from my side, back to the 
middle of my back. It was the most erotic feeling...

Then lower!

His hands were on my buttocks, pushing, spreading, and 
his tongue was flirting there, too. Fingers, tongue, I 
wasn't sure - excited beyond endurance, but not sure, 
then he moved off me.

"Come," he commanded, pulling at me, until I was 
kneeling beside him. He pulled at my knee, positioning 
me, so I was kneeling above him, facing him, looking 
down at him. He pulled at my buttocks, until my knees 
were on either side of his head. Then, reaching over my 
legs, he pulled my knees further apart.

"Watch," he said, and looking down I saw his tongue 
touching my inner thigh! He reached around my legs, his 
fingers meeting at my pelvis, and he pulled at my lips, 
opening me.

"Look," he commanded, as I, with my hands on the wall, 
pelvis thrust foreword, head bent down, saw myself being 
held open, saw my clitoris engorged, extending out, a 
little finger, but so sensitive.

I saw his lips purse, felt his cooling breath there, 
felt quivers extending all over my body, saw his tongue 
extend, touch me! Lick at me!

I moved forward more, sealing myself to his mouth, 
feeling his tongue do what his penis should, touch and 
excite me.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked, knowing the 
answer.

A climax had washed over my body.

"Yes, I did. Your tongue was a penis for me, for my 
vagina."

"Maybe, then, it's time for your mouth to be a vagina 
for my penis. Turn around."

I did.

He reached, tugging at my knee, pulling it, until, 
until, until I understood, and moved, so that I was 
kneeling , a knee on either side of his head, this time 
looking down at his torso, his penis. I was in that 
classic 69 position, just like I saw in some of those 
porno films Dick used to rent.

"I've never done this with Dick," I told him.

"Then there'll be some mystery in his life when you do 
it with him tomorrow," he said, his hands on my back, 
pushing me down.

Then his arm went around the outside of my legs, over my 
thighs, reaching around me, spreading me again!

My mind went to our first kiss, just hours ago, when I 
let my tongue touch his. Now, his kiss would be very 
different. I was frozen in position, I could feel myself 
being spread by his fingers, feel myself being 
positioned. There was a sudden coolness, it was his 
breath, touching me where I was open, on my clit, again.

There!

That touch, his tongue, it touched me there! My spine 
felt chills, as he found that special place, lightly 
touching it, exciting it, exciting me, again causing 
that spontaneous "oh!".

His arms, still around me, pushed at me, bringing my 
body lower, my face lower, to him.

"Now you, use your mouth on me, fuck me with it, let it 
be another vagina for my erection!!"

I bent over a little more, and opened my own mouth, and 
took him in it, returning the pleasure, and in the 
giving, gaining it, too.

He grew bigger, warmer, in my mouth, and then against my 
cheek as my mouth found his scrotum. 

Over more, past that, under that, feeling him lift up, 
so I could touch his anus, too.

My own hand was pumping him, making him more erect, 
making him ready again, while he made me ready, too, 
kept me ready, and wet, and excited.

"That way, now," he said. His mouth had pushed me over 
the edge, I would use mine to push him.

I held his shaft in my hand, pushing down, pushing the 
foreskin down, exposing that purple head, so I could 
lick at it, and suck at it.

I began a masturbating motion, stoking him, following my 
hand with my mouth, feeling a pulsing, deep within him, 
and feeling him push up into me, his hand on my head 
pushing me onto him.

A burst, a salty taste, another pulse... more of his 
passion escaped his cock, and found my throat.

But, he stayed hard, hard enough.

"Come, be in me again, do that," I pleaded.

He pushed me to the side, I went, willingly.

And he rolled onto me.

It was so natural to open my legs for this man, to this 
man, that I had known only a few hours. And natural for 
him, so wet with my saliva, to slip so easily into me, 
so wet with his.

The room was only light enough for me to see his shadow, 
moving over me.

Of course there was a realization that I was cheating on 
Dick, feeling Edward's cock, moving in me, exciting me, 
that made it, forgive me, even more exciting.

Feeling him, feeling him move a hand down there, too, 
feeling both fingers and penis, and putting my hand 
there, too, feeling the wetness, and his cock, and me.

He pulled my hand up, pulled my wet fingers up, over his 
chest, his neck, his cheek, to his mouth.

"I want to taste you, too," he said, his tongue on my 
fingers, "even though we took showers, I could taste me 
in you..."

"And me, I want to taste us again, too," I told him, so 
he offered his fingers to my mouth, too, his fingers 
that were wet with me, so I could taste us, taste our 
passion.

It was enough, more than enough stimulation, for him to 
grow that little bit larger, that little bit warmer, 
enough so that he pressed hard into me, and I could feel 
his pulse in his cock, and more than his pulse, as he 
filled me again.

We slept, tangled in each other and the sheets.

There was a moment when I rolled over, forgetting where 
I was, my leg went over his hip, my head on his 
shoulder, just as I slept with Dick for all of these 
years. Only it wasn't Dick, it was Edward, awakening 
too, and my spread legs found him erect, and he rolled 
towards me, on me, in me...

And another moment, when I went from asleep to aroused 
because of someone kissing my ear, touching my breast, 
and I awoke in the darkness finding we both had enough 
left to engage each other again.

*

It became morning; "My flight to LA is at 8," Edward 
said at 5:30. He was mostly erect again. "Come!"

I left the bed with him, and he positioned me at the low 
chest of drawers, in front of the mirror.

"Bend over."

I did, my arms supporting me, presenting myself to him, 
breasts hanging freely, back arched, so my buttocks were 
high, ready to receive him.

"Watch us!"

I did that too, seeing a man behind me reflected in the 
mirror, his hands gripping my shoulders, and I reached 
behind me, and guided that cock to me again, so that 
when he flexed his hips, he was in me again! I could see 
enough of him, of his legs behind mine, a glimpse of his 
scrotum suspended between my legs, and I could feel him 
moving in me, his pelvis slapping at my ass, his cock 
deep in me, I could feel his heat, and feel enough 
moisture to be cool on my legs, as he rode me, pulling 
my shoulders so I'd move onto him as he pushed into me, 
time and again, I was riding, and being ridden!

"Remember this - do it with your husband, and remember 
me fucking with you, and you, fucking with me, and I'll 
remember too, tomorrow, and forever."

He used all of the passion he was saving, I used all of 
the excitement I had experienced on the trip, and all of 
the sexual experience I had, as we coupled, satisfying 
each other and ourselves, until finally there was just 
time for a kiss good-bye, for him to pull on pants and 
shirt, and grab at other garments, and leave. I was left 
with the memory of him at the door, of his "Goodbye, 
lassie: remember me," of the door closing, of his scent 
throughout the room, the mess of our lovemaking.

I never learned his last name! He never learned mine!

There was time for a shower - I had to do that, I knew 
there'd be no time when Dick picked me up at took me 
home! My room was a mess, both beds, the bathroom, 
towels everywhere, traces of our fluids everywhere too. 
We were, Edward said, "Well and truly fucked, in the 
best senses of the phrase."

Dick was waiting at the gate with a bouquet of flowers - 
so sweet!

The drive home took only a little while, just enough 
time for him to bubble over with my success.

"Come to the bedroom, I need you," was the first thing 
he said when we got to our house.

I went, and undressed more slowly than he did, finally 
joining him on the bed, feeling loose, not feeling 
excited, exhausted physically from lack of sleep, 
emotionally satiated with Edward's sex, but wanting 
Dick, wanting to please him, desperately wanting him to 
love me.

His needs were so urgent - and so easy to satisfy.

Then, when he was in me, pumping away, he pleaded with 
me: "Tell me about what it was like, when you used that 
tube on yourself last night. It sounded so great, so 
sexy."

Dick has a strong sense of the erotic. His efforts, and 
my memory, were removing the fatigue I felt. I decided 
to use the energy. "Oh, it was some tube. It was 
attached to the crotch of this New Zealander I picked up 
at the airport." 

I told the entire tale, as an erotic story, Dick 
thinking I was creating it was just to excite him.

"I even did this," I told him, pushing him onto his 
back, kneeling over him with his head between my legs, 
and going down on him, while lowering myself on his 
face, so he could use his mouth, too.

"No, not like that," I told him. "You have to reach 
around me, spread me, then do that!"

"What else?" he asked, after that ended. "Tell me what 
else."

"Come to the dresser," I told him. "I'll show you."

Later, after everything, just before we got out of bed 
to shower and dress for dinner, he said, not knowing how 
right he was, "Honey, I know you're smart, and you're 
going to be a huge success in business, too. But I never 
knew you had the imagination to make up stories like 
that one. I love it!"

Imagination. Yes, I imagined Edward, half way home now, 
emptied of passion, waiting to see his wife.

Imagination. Of a hotel room, two beds, both soiled with 
him and me, and a bathroom, and towels.

"Yes, Dick. I do have some imagination." 

I heard a jet passing overhead. That too was a reminder. 
I would remember.

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 69