A Slut Life

CHAPTER 1: THE BEGINNING

Pulling into the driveway and pressing the remote to open the garage door, I glimpsed to the dining room window covered by the closed sheers. I see the faint glow of light coming from further inside the house. I smiled. Ryan has waited up. I left him a message this night could be late and not to. I assured him we could talk in the morning. I’m a big girl, I can come home to a quiet, dark house. I had always thought our love was boundless and nights like these were just an example of the commitment and trust and openness we share. There had been something different about Ryan lately but I pushed it out of my mind as I was leaving. I hadn’t really spent much time on it, though. I was too excited about the night. So, I was anxious to see him, to be reassured.

I entered through the laundry/pantry room that empties into the house at the kitchen after pressing the button to lower the garage door. I am tired. My body is tired. My brain is tired. It had been a busy day, anyway. I had cooked and shopped. Ryan and I were planning a quiet weekend… no friends, no guests, no meetings or events… no nothing but us.

A couple steps, my high heels clicking on the floor tiles, and I stepped into the kitchen to find Ryan on the left leaning against the island in the center of the space. Straight ahead is the open space that flowed into the family room. Several lights are on, the large flat screen is muted and some sports program is on, probably Sports Center as a casual look seemed to be showing highlights of recent games. I see the open laptop that probably had succeeded in holding his attention over the TV. Ryan is very dedicated to his work.

Ryan pushes himself off the island. It occurs to me that he may have moved from the family room to the kitchen as soon as he heard the garage door. Usually, he allows me to come in and get settled. I place my small purse on the counter, encircle his waist with an arm as I pull him in for a kiss and hug. I know he can taste on my lips the activities of the night. What he tastes on my lips or smells or finds anywhere else on my body is not new. These nights have been wonderful, which is the reason they happen.

Breaking the hug, he steps behind me. With one hand I loosen the middle buttons of the long blazer I am wearing that might be appropriate for covering a micro-dress underneath. By holding the lapels, Ryan removes the blazer as I pull one arm, then pull the other out. I turn around. A coquettish smile teasingly forms on my lips. His eyes roam down and back up my body and I can see something is different.

His smile that would be matching mine isn’t there. “I see you’ve misplaced your thong, again.” Something is different. He drops my blazer over one of the stools at the island counter. Sans the thong, which disappeared predictably, I am dressed the way I was when I left much earlier: black 4 inch high heels, sheer black stockings, and lacy black garter belt. The tiny, lacy thong that had completed the outfit must be in someone’s pocket… a memory item, perhaps… a trophy never to be washed, a reminder of my scent.

I am 39 years old, 5′ 1″ tall and about 110 pounds. I have brown hair usually below my shoulders and brown eyes. I have what I think is a voluptuous figure and C-cup tits. It is why going out, even in the dark, with just a blazer over my tits is very risqué. They are natural and often seem to have a mind of their own to move and bounce as they wish. It is part of the new me, though. I dress to tease and entice, especially on these play nights.

Ryan’s hand slips down my body and dips a finger into my pussy as I open my legs for him. He looks into my eyes as he lifts his finger up between us. “How much this time, slut?”

I am taken aback. His finger has come out of my used pussy covered in the cum of other men. His comment has shocked me. It has taken us a while to reach this point in these activities, but no matter how slutty I might behave, it started with him. This is how our marriage has evolved, transformed, expanded. It has done so mutually. Eyes wide open. Full awareness. Full acceptance. In truth, it was at his suggestion, encouragement, and interest while pulling me along until I felt the same way. Which is why his reaction now is so surprising.

“You’re a fucking whore!”

He walks away from me. He turns off Sports Center, his laptop, the lights in the family room, and begins moving to the bedroom. I don’t understand what is happening. This isn’t right, not the way this is supposed to happen. He should be greeting me with a passionate kiss and teasing me about the night in anticipation. I should be taken by the hand to fuck him in our bed while I tell him about the night, about three of his friends fucking me. This was the night of his scheduled poker night but he had to work late. They guys called and suggested that I come anyway to be hostess. Why ruin what would be a fun night? This wasn’t the first time, obviously. Ryan had left a message for me. Just something with work. Something needing him to prepare for something for tomorrow. That was before the other call. My participation has occurred before. I had called Ryan at the office and left a message. I had called his cell phone. Several times. Left messages each time. These poker playing nights have turned into more of a cliché, ‘poke her’ nights.

Suddenly, everything is wrong. Nothing about this feels natural or comfortable or… REAL.

I call out to him, “Ryan… what’s going on?”

He stops. For a moment, he stands there with his back to me. Is he merely thinking? Or, is he calming himself? Why is he having to calm himself, though? When he turns to face me, I can see in his eyes as they move over me. These aren’t the eyes I am used to. I am standing between the kitchen and the family in heels and stocking. Before, his eyes would say he wants to fuck me and to share what happened. These aren’t those eyes.

“How could you?”

“How could I what?” Whatever this was about, my Latin nature was raising its emotional response.

“You just decide to go off to spend most of the night fucking?”

I stepped toward him but his hands come up as if they would emit some force field to hold me back. Wherever this was coming from, now I was pissed. “Look at me, damnit! Look at me!” I stood before him. arms out to the side. I knew what I looked like at that moment. Naked. Stockings and heels. I could still feel the semen of three men inside me and I didn’t doubt that he could see the shine of it on the insides of my thighs. “This is what YOU wanted. This is what you want to display, exhibit, show off. This is what you wanted to share with others. Remember? This was YOU.”

“You went off without… you just went off by yourself… you just decided…” He was whining. God! It sounded so pathetic.

It made me even more pissed. “Fuck you! YOU had this night planned! You always plan these things. You want to share me. You pled with me and you finally talked me into it. Well…” I had my arms out displaying myself, again. “Well… here I am. You succeeded. I did all this for you. Now you resent it? How dare you! I left you I don’t know how many messages. Were you even at the office?” When that came out, I paused. Was he? Or, did he just tell me that? Why didn’t he get my calls if he was at the office?

He seemed pathetic. He had no argument. What was his problem? “You wanted to fuck them. It wouldn’t have mattered what I said.”

I was flabbergasted. “What? You wanted this. You wanted to share me with your friends and even strangers. Remember? So, yeah, I want to fuck them. I like it. I enjoy being desired by men. You succeeded and now you aren’t happy? What do you want?”

“I want it to stop. This was a mistake. I thought this is what I wanted. I thought this would fill our relationship somehow. I was wrong. You like this too much. I should have known. Tonight, you showed your true self. You’re just a whore.”

Okay. Maybe I should have taken the high road and tried to defuse what was happening. Maybe I should have just agreed with him that we could stop. But… damnit… a whore? I lost it and with it my marriage.

“You whiny bastard!” How could I hurt him? That was really all that flashed through my mind at the moment. Not how could I save us, but how could I hurt him. “You want me to stop what you started? After these men you’ve put me with, you want me now to be happy with your puny little penis? I can’t even call it a cock. A cock is big enough to be fulfilling, satisfying. Yours…” I laughed. And, at that moment, I knew we were done. And, at that moment, I also understood how much of what I said was just the truth coming out. The way I really come to feel. He’s been on a mission to share me, to make me into his little hot-wife. Well, he did. I had been happy before. I didn’t want anything to change. He did. I did change. Because he wanted it. And, yes, now I like it.

The words went on. Not just that night, either. That was the ultimate problem. The words kept coming out over the next days. It was amazing what was built up when it finally came out. Ryan wasn’t happy with what we were doing. Maybe he hadn’t been for quite a while. It had only been a year and a half when I thought about it. But I wondered when it had occurred to him that he was making a mistake. I wondered when it was that he started resenting how much I was enjoying it after he had to try so hard for me to try it, to let another man use me. That, of course, led to others, mostly his friends but also complete strangers from hotel bars. The variety of men was exciting for me and if that was making him happy it added more excitement for me. Apparently, his excitement and happiness hadn’t lasted as long as mine. I was now convinced he had merely waiting for the opportunity to try to blame me. However lame that opportunity might be when he chose it.

The divorce was at times nasty and messy but ultimately quick as we ended up with a non-contesting agreement. He tried to put it all on me as being unfaithful. I countered, through my lawyer, with names of some of his own friends who would attest that it was Ryan who arranged the meetings. I also captured emails from his computer from other men he had somehow connected with for visits at hotels.

Our state allows for quick settlement when there are no contesting claims. We ended our 12 years of marriage painfully but quickly with dividing our common worth (he kept the house) and a nice alimony based on his income (a nice big income).

* * * *

I’ve been in my new 1-bedroom apartment for about two weeks. I didn’t need the house if I was going to be single, again. I wasn’t sure he did, either, but I imagined him starting up a new relationship pretty quickly. Of course, that led me back to the curious thought if he really had been in the office that fateful night. I had made the quick decision not to fight over that or the house. I ended up with more liquid assets without the house.

The apartment was roomy and nice, even as a single bedroom. It was on the top, fourth, floor with a balcony facing into the commons area. The complex was four separate building forming a square. On the inside of the quad was a common resident building with a recreation area and rooms for reservation for gatherings and meetings. A large pool and patio area and large lawned green space with trees and shaded benches completed the inside area. I was glad to have that view rather than the one on the other side of the building overlooking the parking area surrounding the outside of the complex.

I had been out shopping and struggling with packages, getting my mail from the box in the small lobby of the building, and fumbling for my key card to unlock the door when I heard, “Let me get that for you.”

I turned at the voice. There were strict rules about letting strangers into the building to guard the security for everyone. I recognized the man reaching his own card to the scanner at the side of the handle as the complex superintendent who I had met when applying for the apartment. I gave him what I hoped would pass for a warm smile but not much in my life was feeling hopeful or smile-worthy. I mumbled a ‘thank you’ and passed to the waiting elevator. As I rode the elevator to the fourth floor, I felt bad about the encounter. He seemed like a nice man and the look on his face as I stood in the elevator as the door slid closed made me think my response to him hadn’t been what I had tried for.

An hour or so later, I had changed into my comfortable relaxing-at-home-for-the-evening attire of large t-shirt and panties when there was a knock at the door. Still being new to the complex, I was surprised at someone being at my door so I used the spy hole to check. It was Mr. Swenson, the superintendent. I considered how I was dressed, but relented rather than having him stand outside longer.

He glanced at what I was wearing as the door fully opened. I knew the man-sized t-shirt didn’t do much to cover me but they were comfortable. He cleared his throat, then, “I… I may be out of line but… could I have a word with you? It’s Teresa, right?”

That was confusing. Was this official or personal? I stepped aside to allow him to enter. “Of course, Mr. Swenson.” He stepped inside and stopped. I moved past him to the kitchen area on the right. “Can I get you a beer, wine, or something stronger? I was just getting myself one.”

“Uh… okay… a beer, thanks. Please call me Harold.” I smiled. Maybe it wasn’t official. Then, what?

I saw him move to the edge of the kitchen as I opened the refrigerator and bent over to look into the bottom shelf. “All I have is Miller Lite…” I glanced over and found him looking not at the refrigerator but at my butt and it finally dawned on me that the t-shirt probably had pulled up my bent over body to expose my panties. I was nervous about why the superintendent was here and trying to be hospitable, but… I grabbed two cans and straightened up, handing one to him. I could feel a blush spreading over me as I moved to the living room. I sat on the couch next to the sliding door to the balcony and he took a chair on the other side of the coffee table.

As I sat down, everything about the situation became uncomfortably obvious. I hardly knew this man and he was the authority figure of the complex and here I was… like a trollop… What might he be thinking of me? Mr. Swenson appeared to be 60 years old. He was about six feet tall, grey hair that was thinning on top, and still trim, still in shape. He had soft eyes that were blue and a gentleness about him that was partially masked by nervousness. I thought it was quite charming but that made me remember the impression I must be giving. I didn’t have a bra on and I noticed my nipples pressing against the thin fabric even without them being fully erect. The t-shirt wasn’t really long enough and when I sat down it rode up my legs to my hips. I had to cross my legs to avoid my panties being in his face, so to speak.

“Teresa… in the lobby I was reminded… well… you’ve just moved in and I don’t know if I’ve seen you seeming happy. Are you displeased with the apartment or the complex?”

I smiled at him and relaxed some. “Harold, are you so caring about all your renters?”

He smiled at my tease and chuckled. “Only the really pretty ones.” He was very charming.

“It has nothing to do with the apartment, Harold. I do like it. I like the entire complex setup. It’s just…” He raised his eyebrows to encourage me gently and took another drink from the can. And then it all poured out. Sure, I left out major details about the divorce, the sharing and hotwife. I dumped just enough about changes my ex wanted, and convinced me to accept, then how he didn’t like that I had changed. Blah, blah, blah. I was surprised after so many minutes how it had all exploded out of me. I apologized to him after I caught my breath.

“Don’t apologize that you hurt so terribly deep inside.” He leaned forward, his forearms braced on his knees and he gave me another gentle smile that seemed to project a fatherly caring. This man was something else.

I pushed up a smile onto my own face. It was probably strained but it was there. “Are you sure you don’t seek out renters to council?”

He gave a more comfortable chuckle, “I assure you, Teresa… only the pretty ones.” I smiled. That could easily be a come-on. This whole thing could easily be a come-on but it just didn’t feel that way. He leaned back in the chair, maybe content that I had managed to dump all that and ended with a smile at his tease. He drained the rest of his beer and fell pensive for a moment as he gazed at the can in his hands. I decided to wait. “Sometimes it helps… to be with someone you don’t know to let it all out.” When he ventured a look at me, I was staring at him with a new level of curiosity. I waited, wanting him to continue. “I won’t say I understand how you feel. I haven’t lost something through divorce but…” He breathed. His fingers were pressing into the sides of the can making a crinkling sound. “I lost my wife. Lost… isn’t that a peculiar term? They leave, you leave or they’re taken away. She died… suddenly… just over five years ago. An illness. Sudden. It left a hole in me I am still filling with life. I guess what I am saying is that I understand how it can feel, how it can leave you with an emptiness, and how it can leave you angry… resentful.” He looked up and focused on me, leaning forward, again. “But… excuse me for giving out advice you didn’t ask for… don’t let it consume you. Don’t leave that hole empty too long. Go ahead and be mad, grieve if you need, but fill it with something. Make a decision about what your life should be going forward… always forward, Teresa. Then move. Whatever you decide, then move toward it. Always forward and leave the rest behind.”

Then, he stood up. He looked embarrassed by all he had said uninvited. He moved to the door with a side move to place the can on the kitchen counter. I stood and called out, “Mr. Swenson… Harold… you said you felt empty for a long time. What finally allowed you to move on?”

He stopped with his hand on the door handle. He turned halfway and when he looked, I was sure his gaze truly saw my body this time. There was no ‘official business’ remaining. He was just a man and just being a man he noticed it all.

“I took a trip. In fact, I just got back before you moved in. An island. Beautiful. Amazingly beautiful. Completely different than outside here. And, it’s off-season. Quite cheap now. I’ll leave the information in your box.” He hesitated. “I don’t remember how I chose that place but…”, he smiled, “… it opened my eyes. It showed me just how alive I still was.”

I rushed up to him. I think I took him aback. I hugged him, thanked him, and gave him a peck on the cheek. After the door closed, I leaned back against it. What a nice man. Maybe he’s right. If it could help him from missing his wife of years and years, couldn’t it help me from missing a man who changed my life and then discarded me?

It was several days later when I found an envelope without a stamp on it in my mail box. I took it upstairs with the rest of the mail. I dropped the mail on the dining table and fingered the unmarked envelop. Was I nervous for some reason? The alimony provided enough money for the apartment and living, though I already knew I would be seeking a job, too. I didn’t have much experience, but I could get something. He said it was cheap now.

I kicked off my sandals as I ripped the envelope open and idly moved toward the balcony sliding door. I slipped two fingers inside to pull out a brochure and dropped the envelope on the coffee table. I stepped out onto the balcony as I gazed at the front of the brochure. It was an island resort. Words jumped out at me: Private. Secluded. Tropical. Enchanting.

The sun was hot as I stood gazing at a scene of bikini clad women on a sandy beach. I glanced around, checking the other balconies, checking below at the pool, checking the other buildings. What the hell! I quickly pulled my shirt over my head and dropped my shorts. My bra and panties were little different than the bikinis being worn down at the pool. I reclined on the chaise lounge to study the brochure. More words jumped out: All inclusive. Self-contained. Adults, only. Carefree. Daring. Provocative. Of course, it had a toll-free phone number and web address.

I left my clothes and the sun to power up my laptop. I poured a glass of wine from a fresh bottle, plunked myself on the couch with the laptop and typed in the address. I laughed out loud as the page opened, “That old dog… adults, only… it’s clothes optional!”

* * * *

I traveled a good part of the day including the last leg to the island on a loud, turbo-prop plane that could only accommodate a couple dozen people and luggage. By their dress, everyone seemed to be tourist which made sense because there was little industry on the island besides fishing and the service industry of resorts, restaurants, and shops. In the spirit of a vacation of discovery, I chose to wear a short, flowery colored, pleated skirt; a form-fitting white tank top of tee shirt material; red strap sandal heels; white, semi-sheer thong; and, dangling jewelry for my ears and neck. No bra. I knew my nipples would be drawing attention all day, especially walking in the heels that tended to make them bounce and jiggle. My suitcase contained clothing of a similar sort. I may have wondered what I was doing going to a resort like this by myself, but if Harold at 60 could find something by himself, so could I.

Several vans awaited travelers at the small island airport. The van I needed to the resort on the other side of the island carried another couple besides me and three single guys who appeared to be traveling together. The three were less than discreet with their staring and it occurred to me that maybe Harold had discovered something with this place.

Stepping into the reception area I was greeted with obvious updates to the small resort that excited me. The brochure had been clear about the ‘clothes optional’ aspect of the resort. This was NOT a nudist resort but the pool and adjoining beach area was clothes optional.

My room was on the first floor midway down one arm of the resort and facing the ocean beach. The resort building was in the form of a ‘V’. The lobby, restaurant, bar, and shops were at the apex. The two arms jutting out to form the ‘V’ opened to the pool, spa, games area, and the beach beyond them. The room had large sliding glass doors to a semi-enclosed patio opening into the commons area. Opening the doors allowed the sound of people and waves to float in, enticing me out to explore. After unpacking and stowing my luggage in the back of the closet, I returned to the small patio to consider what to do with what remained of the late afternoon and evening. Despite the fatigue of airports and travel, the feel of salt laden air, the sound of the ocean, and people enjoying themselves was an intoxicating draw.

I stripped out the clothes I traveled in, opened one of two tubes of sunscreen I had packed, lathered my Latin brown skin, then considered the attire options I had for my first time venturing out. Clothing optional. But did I have the nerve? View of the pool and spa areas were partially obscured by bars, umbrellas, and access control fencing (I supposed so you didn’t drunkenly stumble into the pool at night). Even so, though, I could see more than a few guests naked or topless. But not all were.

I selected a bikini. It was the most modest one I packed. Both top and bottoms were lined and both provided coverage. The thong and Wicked Weasel (especially purchased for this trip) might be for another time.

I walked the path along the side of the pool area wearing sandals, a floppy hat, and large sunglasses in addition to the bikini. It was an interesting feeling as I looked into the pool area. Seeing the naked and semi-naked people casually active or sunning caused me to feel conservatively dressed in a bikini. When I approached the beach area, I had the same reaction. Many people were clothed in some form even if it was topless for some women. There were a number, however, who were fully naked, both men and women. I walked through the beach to the edge of the water where I stood, first looking out over the ocean, then gazing in both directions before looking back onto the beach. It was easy for my eyes to be drawn to those naked and I smiled to myself as I tried to imagine Harold here. What was he thinking to come here? What did he experience that allowed him to turn the corner of the loss of his wife and to feel that he could move on?

The resort might be small, but the expanse of beach was not. I slipped off the sandals and carried them as I walked at the edge of the gently lapping water. I had no intention or expectation. I was just allowing myself to becoming lost in the feeling of the tropics and being away from everything back home. I wanted to see if I could achieve what Harold had. I wanted to move forward, to leave the past behind. The warmth of the sun, the rhythmic sound of the waves, the humid, salt-laden air that could quickly put a sheen on my skin, and the expanse of water and endless horizon all worked to open and free the soul. I had soon left the resort beach far behind but the beaches seemed endless, passing into public beach, then another resort evident ahead. All the while it seemed to contain a steady stream of people of a similar mindset as myself: just strolling, just being. Many were in small groups or couples.

I suddenly realized I couldn’t see the resort, anymore. I couldn’t even distinguish where along the expanse of beach it might be. So, I turned around. I didn’t bring a watch… not wishing to be tied to time while here… but feeling the need to eat after the long day. Something to drink, too. Definitely, something to drink. This was going to be good. I could sense it.

I showered and lathered twice to rid myself of the layer of sunscreen. I chose a short sundress. It had a full skirt, tight at the waist and formed over the bodice with thin straps tied at the neck. I wore bikini panties and heeled, strap sandals. I managed to get a table for one. The hostess looked at me concerned but I explained I had just arrived and preferred at least a short time to adjust. She smiled when she seemed to understand I wasn’t lonely by being alone.

The meal was nice and I consumed two glasses of wine with the fish, rice, and salad. As I was leaving, the hostess got my attention. “I understand what you said earlier, but…”, she pointed down the hall, “… the club is really quite fun.” She gave me a wink and bright smile.

What could it hurt? It wasn’t like my intention was to remain by myself. I wanted to interact. I’ve just had Ryan for so long. I mumbled to myself, “Forward, girl!” I smiled to myself. That’s what Harold had said, always move forward and leave the rest behind.

The hostess was right. The club was hopping. It was so crowded I wondered if every guest of the resort was here or if people also came from outside the resort. Regardless, it looked like fun. I found a spot along the side to stand and watch. I flagged down a waitress who was dressed in a glittering silver bikini top and similar material as a short skirt. The other waitresses were dressed the same and I noticed they all were sprinkled with body glitter where they wasn’t material, which was most of their bodies.

I was moving to the bass beat and enjoying being a voyeur when I heard next to me, “You have to be expecting someone. Can I help you find him?” I looked up at him. He was probably a foot taller than me. He was quite handsome, about 30 maybe. His hair was solid black with no greying or receding. He had the whitest smile and sparkling eyes. He exuded confidence but without it being a negative.

“Are you teasing me about me height?” He laughed. “Do I look like I am missing someone?”

“No… no, but… I just can’t imagine why else you are standing here by yourself. Half the guys in here have been checking you out. No offense, us guys are just like that.” Now I laughed. That was certainly an interesting ice breaker.

I let him buy me a drink. His name was Adam. Before I knew it, he had me out on the dance floor. I love the way music makes my body move but I have never really thought of myself as a dancer. He, though, was amazing… flowing, easy, and smooth… like his come on. Soon, I was feeling both the drinks, the two glasses of wine at dinner, and the music. I turned my back to him during a fast beat and bounce my butt back towards him. He must have moved up to me because I was bouncing my butt against him and I felt something interesting pressing against me. The next song switched to slow. Many couples were leaving the floor for more drinks but I was spun into his arms. My arms went around his back.

I looked up into his face. His eyes searched mine for a few moments, then, “How come I haven’t seen you here before?”

“I just arrived this afternoon. How long have you been here?”

“My entire trip.” I looked up at him curiously. He smiled. “My time here ends tomorrow. Just my luck.”

As we swayed, I pressed into him. I felt him… against my abdomen. That familiar flush washed over me. Move forward. I tilted my head back and stepped onto my toes and reached my face up to him. He lowered his and we kissed on the dance floor. The first kiss was more tentative, checking out each other if we meant something by it. I reached an arm up and pulled. We weren’t dancing anymore. Our bodies were still moving but not to the music. It was more of a grind to something beating inside the two of us.

The wonderful kissing we shared on the way to his room smoothly escalated once inside. His hand behind my head slid down my bare back. I felt his fingers slide down my back until they slipped underneath the back of my dress. His fingers came back out and felt the clasp and short zipper of the dress. He pulled back and searched my face. I simply nodded and kissed him, again. He opened the zipper and slid the straps off my shoulders. With a few inches of separation, the dress fell to my hips but were quickly pushed down my legs. My breath was coming ragged. I wrapped my arms around him and smothered him with kisses, my mouth engulfing his, our tongues suddenly doing battle to probe each other’s mouths.

I shivered in anticipation as his hand moved back up my side to hesitate, again, at the side of my breast. I sucked in a breath and unconsciously held it as his hand moved in front to encase my left breast. I groaned into his mouth, releasing a held breath. I separated our bodies slightly, maybe just inches, but enough to give encouragement to his hands. Encouragement that he took. As I held his face and kissed him, his other hand found its way to my right breast. I groaned more as both breasts were fondled, deliberately but gently.

My own hands left his face. I caressed his back, then his chest from outside his shirt. His heart was beating fast. I could feel it. My hands on his chest. Beating as fast as mine seemed to be. His hands still on my breasts I let my own hand slip down to his belt. I pulled back from the kiss, neither of us using our hands to hold the kissing but again pressing our faces together to keep our hands free… free to touch, to explore. When I pulled back, I looked into his eyes and face. I sensed something in his expression. I glanced down at his hands on my breasts, then to my own hands at his belt buckle. I allowed my fingers to drift down over his crotch. It felt unbelievably full.

I looked back up to his eyes and smiled. I pulled my fingers away but only inches. I was surprised when his hands left my breasts but smiled as I saw him nearly ripping the buttons open on his shirt and pulling from his body. I placed my hands flat on his bare chest and felt the strength of his toned body, then I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my bare breasts into his bare chest, again engulfing his mouth with mine.

In moments, he was moving us from the doorway where we still stood to the edge of the bed. His hands caressed my upper body. His mouth left mine and began kissing his way down my neck to shoulders to chest and breasts. I arched my back to his kisses and felt him leverage me into the center of the bed. I pried off my shoes and kicked them to the side. He paused…. I smiled at him and gave him a slight nod. I watched as he knelt back on his heels to gaze at me. Naked except for a tiny pair of panties under his gaze, I blushed. How many men had Ryan put me with and now on my own I blush? I didn’t panic. I didn’t fuss or get nervous. I wanted him to look. I enjoyed him looking. My entire body was responding to him, to his kisses, to his touches, to his looking.

He leaned forward to kiss my stomach. He continued to kiss down to the top of my panties. I gasped and tensed in anticipation. He kissed further down, kissing my mound from outside the thin fabric. I moaned as a kiss was planted at the top of my pussy. He opened my legs further. He kissed further down. I felt his lips press the wet fabric. I moaned louder and shivered.

I rose to my knees and pushed him onto his back. I repeated the same kisses on him, my fingers matching his action by opening his slacks. I kissed his abdomen as I pulled the zipper down and tugged the pants past his hips and down his legs as he raised his hips. Then, it was my turn to gazed at him. His tight-fitting boxers made his arousal very evident and I wasn’t believing what it indicated. I looked from it to his face and back to his crotch. My fingers moved to the waist band as if they understood the only way I was going to believe it was to expose it. I was licking my lips obscenely as I grasped the waist band and began inching the garment down. He raised his hips again with a groan indicating his own anticipation. As I peeled the garment down, my mouth fell open and my eyes stared. Hard. Massive. My fingers left his boxers down around his thighs and groped up to caress and fondled 11 inches of hard cock. I held it with both hands and they didn’t fully cover the length. The girth was such that my fingers didn’t quite close around it. I gaped at it. In all the months Ryan had set me up with his friends, none were even close to anything like this.

He rolled us over so I was on my back. He stripped his boxers the rest of the way off, then stripped off my panties. I like to stay shaved. He smiled at that. I had wanted to make love. Now, seeing how big… gigantic… his cock looked… I wasn’t sure it would fit inside me, but I wanted this. I wanted something. I wanted something with him desperately, intensely.

He leaned forward onto me. He kissed just above my mound. I opened my legs to him. Not many men had seemed interested in touching me there before… not like this. I gasped when his lips covered the top of my slit. I spread my legs even further and rotated my hips up to open myself to him even more. I felt his tongue part my pussy lips and slide down to graze over my hole. I was beside myself with feelings I couldn’t believe. Ryan wanted a hotwife and it had ruined our marriage and in return… after that… I somehow managed to deny myself the thing I found I enjoyed so much. This… what was happening… what I accepted by allowing him to take me to his room. And… now… I found myself desperate for this.

“OH… MY… GOD… ADAM!”

It was intense. Amazing. Overwhelming. I shivered and gasped and sighed and moaned and groaned. Sounds flowed from my mouth without inhibition, without thought, without awareness. I knew there were other words but I wasn’t conscious of them, they just flowed out. I heard someone… me?… saying words like ‘yes, yes, yes’, ‘please, yes’ and on and on. Within only minutes, my body stiffened, then shook. Adam’s tongue was probing inside my pussy, a finger softly rubbing over my clitoris. My body seemed to explode and I heard sounds erupt around us… my sounds. I orgasmed within minutes of starting and I had barely touched him, yet. I had denied myself since that night and I had denied the recognition of need and want and desire building inside me ever since.

I was gasping, panting for breath. Perspiration beading over my forehead and upper chest. I raised my head from the bed and gazed down between my heaving breasts to see Adam peering up at me from between my thighs, a silly smile formed on his mouth, his lips and chin slick with my juices.

I reached my hands down toward him and he crawled up along my body. His naked body on my naked body. I felt his hard monster of a cock pressed against my abdomen… and stomach. God, it was big. We kissed. Rather, it seemed we were both intent on getting inside each other through our mouths. I wanted every part of my body to feel every part of his. My breasts pressed, flattened, into his chest. My electric-charged nipples poking into him. One of my legs wrapped around his to feel his body pressing against my pussy and clitoris. His hard cock pressed against my body.

This time, I rolled us. I slid down his body, my hands and fingers finding his cock before my kissing lips on his body came to the crown of his cock head. I kissed it and smiled. Yes, I wanted it all. Somehow, I would experience a big cock.

I felt his hands on me. I looked up at him, my fingers around his cock, my lips pressed against the head. He was shaking his head… no.

I raised my head. “I want to make you cum, now.”

“I do, too. I want to be inside you, if that’s okay.”

I nodded emphatically. God, yes, that’s okay! My pussy was drooling in anticipation of this thing invading me.

He was rolling my nipples as my eyes gazed fixedly on the cock in my hands. I heard his soft voice, “Are you sure it’s okay? You look…”

I want to smile up at him to reassure him but I am not sure what the lust within me showed. Probably just my lust. “You’re so big… I guess I am a bit nervous… it’ll probably hurt… maybe… yeah, probably… I want to, though. God… I never imagined one like this… slow, though? Can you do it slow? I never have… God, you’re so big…”

He pulled me up his body. My pelvis immediately started rotating, rubbing, pressing itself against his cock. He kissed me, again. He told me to ride him. I would be in charge. I could go as much as I wanted, as deep as I wanted, as fast or slow as I wanted. I could continue or stop. My control. As he told me this, I felt his cock twitch between our bodies. I sat back on his thighs. I knew what he suggested, of course. And, he was right. It would give me control of working myself to take his cock. The position would also provide even more penetration, not that penetration was going to be an issue. He held his cock straight in the air and I shivered. I licked my lips in anticipation. A truly big cock.

I straddled his hips and knelt down keeping myself high to stay above his upraised cock. I put one hand on his chest for support and used the other to take control of his cock from him. A gasp escaped my mouth as I lowered my pelvis to his cock head. He smiled up at me. I bit my lower lip with determination but also a bit of intimidation. I moved the cock and my pelvis, my wet pussy sliding over the head. It was so erotic. Just that much seemed intense. As I moved, his cock hit my clit and it shook me, like a jolt of sexual electricity sparking through my body. The cock settled at my hole and I sucked in a huge breath. I lowered my body a mere inch and the head went in, stretching me wide. I gasped. Some of my held breath releasing. I settled down a bit more and sucked in more air as just a few inches of his cock seemed to stretch me wide and fill me. It was only inches, though. There was so much more. I settled down a bit more and quickly rose as a feeling of stretching too much came over me. Adam pulled me to him, kissing me and stroking my shoulders and back. He whispered a reminder that I was in control, as much or as little was up to me. This man was unbelievably gentle and considerate. Why did he have to leave tomorrow?