A True Story from a Real Reader

I love the emails I'm getting, the random chats (see sidebar) when you're bored and I'm around. It's good to hear that some people, single, married, dating, are working to reignite their sex lives and finding out is isn't that much work.

Here's a (true) story from someone who found this site and used it as their muse to reignite the passion in their marriage. Please leave comments (anonymously, if necessary) and let her know that she's doing a good thing.

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Dear CS

Seriously, I have no idea why I am emailing you but I know that I have been reading your blog (ever see a million hits from the outskirts of Portland? That’s me) and I guess what I want to say is that I can’t thank you enough for the impact you have had on my sex life with my husband. You mentioned you have a lot of moms visiting your site. I have a feeling I am not the only one who needed your help, and if I am, maybe they will google phrases like “passion in marriage” or “married sex” and come up with this post right here and st art reading, which in turn will help them too. Which is funny since you aren’t married and from the sound of it, us marrieds are having sex a lot more frequently than you are.

The thing I wanted to tell you about was my night last night. When I was dating and screwing around, this story might not have been as worthy of telling, but what you might not understand is that 8 years of marriage and 2 kids and 3 dogs and all the other humdrum shit that comes along with this suburban existence takes its toll on the passion levels.

Now, I have to like pre-defend my husband here, who is a really great guy and a really great husband, helpful around the house, love love love love loves me, great dad, the whole 9. We are still very much in love -- well, moreso – than we ever were. We have this family and this apartment and we screw from time to time and make love from time to time and catch a quickie whenever we can. Every once in a while, we fuck like we used to. Mostly, we get each other off which is most definitely not the same thing.

Prior to starting our family, we used to have pretty kinky sex. Once we had kids, our sex became lovemaking. We were gentler with each other. We were careful. Mostly, we became efficient (gotta get the orgasms in before the baby starts to cry or the toddler comes toddling). And while it’s been nice, it’s been predictable and a little boring. I missed the intensity.

Reading your blog has reminded me of the one thing, sexually, that my husband has been really clueless about, which is that my hugest turn-on is to be completely submissive. We have been having these talks lately, mostly in order to avoid the next inevitable step of going to counseling, to work through some issues. Each of us puts an issue in the jar. During the first few weeks of this, we worked through some of the big issues in our marriage, family, discipline, that kind of stuff.

Last week, my piece of paper got pulled from the jar: SEX. I finally had to find the language – and this is where you come in opening the lines of communication – to tell him about this part of myself – the thing he had never really registered. He admitted that he always saw me as such a strong, independent and fiery woman – it never occurred to him that I enjoyed being submissive – he thought it was something I would sort of pretend to enjoy on occasion for his benefit but that unless I was calling the shots I probably wasn’t all that interested. This is hard to believe – that he could have missed all the signs that confirmed how much I love being told what to do, spanked, dominated, cum on, pushed to my knees and told to suck him. I just honestly was floored that he had missed how much I was enjoying these things too. I guess what I am getting at is that we never actually talked about what turns us on -- we just got consumed by the other things we had to deal with. And we expected each other to read minds. Which never works, right?

So the past few weeks have been hot around here. And the man finally got the message that I wanted to be romanced and he arranged for a sitter and took me out to dinner. Of course, by the time we got to the restaurant I was practically in heat and couldn’t keep my foot off his crotch. At one point, our conversation took a very un-hot turn and we laughed about how we got off track. I looked him deep in the eyes and told him to tell me what he likes. He surprised me with his immediate answer.

“I like it when you come,” he said, tilting his head slightly without breaking the gaze. “On my face.”

Now, I know he likes this (and trust me, I feel like I hit the lottery) but to hear him say it out loud sent shockwaves through my body. I told we needed to leave the restaurant N.O.W. (he couldn’t exactly stand up at that exact moment, but a few minutes later…)

He paid, we left and on the way out I discreetly grabbed hi s cock (which by the way, apparently felt the way I did) and told him we needed to go park somewhere immediately. It was like I was on some drug, tunnel vision, I need to be sucking on him or I thought I might actually die. My breath had quickened, my face was flushed and all the passion was right back where it belonged.

I got my wish, seconds later, when we pulled into an empty lot and I quickly released him from his clothing and sucked him off hungrily. We haven’t been to church in ages but I am pretty sure I heard him calling out to God. It was unbearably sexy and I think I pierced the upholstery of his car with my heels. It was still light out and we definitely are not turned on by being arrested, so we decided my orgasm (s?) could wait.

We went home, paid the sitter, pretended to be interested in what the kids had to say about their night. Our son is still little but we bribed him into going to bed like a big boy and we managed to get the kids to bed within 30 minutes of getting home.

I wasted no time. I came downstairs to the living room completely naked except for a sheer black string thong, shooting my husband sheepish looks, like he could tell me to do anything and I would do it. He ordered me onto the couch and started kissing me everywhere, kneeling over me. I begged him to feed me his cock, and he obliged. I slipped a finger into his ass just to keep him where I wanted him, which was right there, shoving his cock into my mouth. I could have stayed there forever. He made me finish myself off, he told me to. He said he was going to watch me make myself come while I sucked on him.

I could go on and on about the fucking that followed, but I won’t bore you with the details. Mostly he did exactly what I love the most – took me from behind and pulled my long hair and I think you are getting the picture and this is actually much harder to write than you make it look on your blog, that’s for sure. In the end, I let him have exactly what he wanted, which was for me to come – on his face. The lucky bastard. And I got what I wanted, which w as for him to jerk himself off and come all over me.

Not sure why I feel compelled to write this. Mostly because I don’t share these aspects of my life with people I know, I don’t have a blog, and I don’t keep a journal. I guess I just thought you might be interested to know you’ve had a very positive influence on life around here. Keep up the good work, and thanks.

Anonymous

Whoring it up for your man

It's been great to hear that more and more married women are coming to terms with their own sexuality: both from reading my site, and from others.  I love knowing that a dead sex life for a couple can be reinvigorated with a few simple ideas.  You can read the first post of this on-going series here.

If you've gotten your hubbie back into bed (or in the car, or against the wall in the living room), it's time to increase your sexual prowess by adding new things to keep the spark... sparking.  One thing I love to introduce to couples is the option of adding variety to more than just bedroom sex.

Women, go out and buy the biggest bag of rice you can find, or a sack of potatos, or even peat moss.  I'm talking warehouse huge: 50lbs is good.  Get a few friends and have them help you stick it in the living room by a blank wall.  This is a ridiculous plan, but it works.  If you have kids, a 50lb bag of sand is even better.

When hubbie comes home and inquires what it is, ask if he can lift it up and put it back down.  He'll have problems.  He'll probably complain about it.  You'll complain about it because that stupid sack of uselessness is sitting in your living room.  The kids will ask.  Neighbors will get inquisitive.

Your answer to him is simple: "I need you to work on lifting that bitch regularly, holding it in place, and being able to put it down.  Best yet would be if you could lift it up to waist height, put it halfway down to knee height, and life it again."  He'll ask why.  "I figure that's the strength you'll need to fuck me against that wall properly.  And I'm not letting you remove it until you do."

It'll take weeks.  You'll catch him lifting that bitch in the evening, or on an early Saturday morning.  The kids will have no clue what's going on: "Daddy's trying to get stronger so he can shovel snow/build your sandbox/help with groceries."  Trust me, in a matter of a month or less, that bag of junk will either be cooked, planted or built into a sandbox.  It'll be replaced with your ass and back against the wall (preferably in a nice shirt and your skirt hiked up) with your husband finally pulling a Hollywood fuck scene.

There's more.  Do you smoke?  No?  Sometimes?  If the answer isn't "A pack a day," go out and buy a pack of cigarettes.  Try to smoke one without inhaling and coughing (it isn't sexy).  Hide them in the nightstand or under a pillow with a nice lighter (Bic, not a generic).  Put a glass of water by the bed that you won't drink.  The next time he's inside of you, push him back so he's sitting up (still inside of you).  Pull out the pack of cigarettes and the lighter, put them on your belly or your chest.  Tell him to take a cigarette out and put it in your mouth.  If he asks why, yell "Do it."  Then ask him to light your cigarette.  Then tell him to fuck you while you finish it, and see what comes first.  Be his whore, out of character, out of reason, out of your mind.  Watch him fuck you.  Don't talk, just watch and fake-smoke.  Smile and nod if he looks at your face, then look down at your breasts.  If he comes too quick, just keep fake-smoking it, ashing in the glass cup.  Leave that glass there for the morning to remind him of what you gave him (and maybe, if you're lucky, what he gave you).  Smoking is gross for many, but this is a sexy way to add a little role-playing to your life.

Want to really push boundaries, beyond your previous boring sex life comfort zone?  Take your husband to the mall, Target, whatever, on a busy afternoon.  Tell him you're completely enthralled by the idea of him picking out another woman/girl/college student that he thinks is sexy.  He'll hee and haw and say he only loves you.  Remind him, "You were single once, you had fantasies once.  I do too.  Pick a woman out and then let's get me in similar clothes."  See what he likes: girls in skirts?  Girls in tank tops?  Women in pant suits?  Women in glasses?  He'll fight it, but keep reminding him that he'll have the chance, tonight, to make that fantasy come true with you, and you won't scold him for it.

We're visual creatures, us guys.  We'll be happy in the sack with you, but we'll still see someone in a specific outfit.  Don't worry if she's 60# lighter than you: get a similar outfit from a local store with your own money.  Change into it in the mall, if you can.  Same shoes, fake glasses, whatever.  Then tell him you need a 2 minute head start and to follow you to the car discretely.  Look over your shoulder and try to catch him following, but make it seem like you don't notice.  If you make it home without being filled with his surprise sauce, you're going to get a workout.  Plus you're going to remind him that any fantasy is doable (within reason) as long as he tells you about it.  There's no jealousy here, mama: YOU would probably try to take that same girl/women home if life was different.  Admit it.

If it works, why not turn the tables around and see if you can get your hubbie into the same role as that cute hardbody gayboy who works at local golf store.  Whatever it takes.

Remember, it isn't just about what you like physically in bed, but what you can do to change things up from the norm.  You need to first get there, and reading the first article in the series gives some good, useful pointers.  Once you're there, you need to keep things interesting.

To close it off, I want to remind you the MOST IMPORTANT part about a spicy sex life: the boring sex.  You should never, ever try to always keep it hot.  Ask your hubbie nicely if you can have a boring night of sex.  Tell him to try to finish as fast as he can, however he wants to.  Ask him for a soft lovemaking once in awhile.  This will remind him fo the boring days, so he'll work harder for less of those.  "Let's do it like we did last year."  Last year, that was boring.  "Exactly.  Things are so hot lately, I want to try to remember."  And you will.  You'll never forget

Come and knock on our door

The Threesome: every man's fantasy, a turn-off for most women, until it gets in their heads.  I tell guys that the best way to get a threesome with their women is to NEVER mention it.  If your sex life is good, if you spend quality time with your gal in a nice pub with attractive people, almost every woman will bring it up the same way: "Ever think about a threesome?"

The right answer is Yes, with caveats.  "Yes, but it seems more like fantasy than reality."  Or "Yes, but I have no idea if it's something I'd do."  Keep it far from a real desire and teasingly reference that you're not sure about it.  It'll whet her appetite for more.

I've done a threesome both ways: two guys and a gal and two gals and me.  I actually prefer the outcome of having another guy than having two girls, for one reason only: the group orgasm.

When it's just you and your lover and you can both reach orgasm at the same time or close, it's definitely stronger and more passionate.  Adding a third person and getting there at the same time threegether is even hotter.  When it's two women and a man, getting everyone off together is tough.  All it takes is one person getting there first (or just two) and someone getting tired.  All of a sudden, you have one person sleeping, one person satiated, and one person who is still waiting.  Usually that person waiting is a woman.

I prefer having two women in my bed than another guy, sure, but it's better if they're bi-leaning.  If by some strange reason I finish first, they can focus on each other for a bit while I get back into gear.  The other problem with two women is the sheer amount of condoms you have to go through.  If I end up with two girls in bed, I prefer the female condom since I can switch at will without having to waste $2 every time I'm jumping from one to the other.  Uncool.

The best threesome I had was when a married couple I was friends with invited me to their house for some pot, some drinks, and a movie.  We never flirted, and the wife is rather cold in general.  The husband was caught cheating a few years earlier with a coworker, and I doubt she ever fully forgave him.  He has the facial lines of a man who doesn't have good sex regularly.

I brought a bottle of wine and acquired some decent pot from a police office friend.  He always gets the best stuff, replacing the cop inventory with crap he takes from his kid.  I don't smoke often, maye once every few years.  I have a bad side effect with marijuana: I get really really horny and can't come easily.  Super-cock is what one girlfriend called it when she experienced it herself.

So we're all hanging out in their living room: Zazzy and Mazzy and myself.  Zazzy is tall, but has gained the spare tire.  He's got a little balding action going on.  Mazzy is dressed really conservatively, almost like the mom from Jon & Kate Plus 8.  She's pretty, but has a cereal box mom haircut.  They have no kids.

We drink a great bottle of wine and then a second.  Zazzy goes to get a roach clip and rolls up a perfect doobie.  I prefer smoking joints, I like to waste and squander.  Bowls and bongs are gross to me, and I don't get that nice buzz.  We're watching the worst possible movie to watch in this situation: Henry and June, a personal favorite.  Uma Thurman would get more of my come on her body than almost any other woman.  I love her insanity in the role she plays.  If Anaïs was still alive today, I'd still nail her.  Probably Miller, too.

We're getting buzzed and the movie progresses.  Everyone's laughing.  Mazzy asked me if I fucked any women recently (I had, just a week earlier).  She never talks like that.  She needs more pot in her life to loosen her snatch up and be a little freer in conversation.  Zazzy keeps grabbing at her tummy and her ass, and she keeps slapping him away.

The scene in Henry and June where June and Anaïs rent a pair of hookers and watch them fuck is intimidating.  Its very sexy, without showing too much.  Mazzy asks me "Ever been with two women?"  Of course.  I lived with two women roommates, and we fucked constantly.  Sometimes one, sometimes the other, sometimes all three in my California King that I had at the time.  Mazzy's eyes widen and asked, "Did you like it?"  It's a lot of work.  I'd prefer to try to guys and a gal, really.  Mazzy looks at Zazzy and they both laugh.  "You never know," she says.

We smoke some more, and then do a round of chilled vodka shots from their freezer.  I'm really toasted, and I'm getting a bit hot watching Zaz snipe at Mazzy's tits through her shirt.  I guess he responds the same way.

The movie is over, and all of a sudden, Mazzy is kissing Zazzy on the couch.  I stand up to take my leave when Zaz says "Wait.  Want to try it tonight?"  I look at Mazzy and she turns around (mounted on his lap) and nods to me.  My cock responds in my pants and tells her yes, and she notices.  She gets off of Zaz's lap and staps up and grabs my hand.  I pull her to me and kiss her and her tongue enters my mouth.  I look up, and see Zaz stroking his own cock through his jeans.  I guess he's not going to get jealous.  Mazzy walks me to their room, and Zaz puts out the lights and candles and finishes off the joint while her and I are kissing against her bedroom wall.  "He fucked another woman."  I nod, looking into her stoned eyes.  "I told him I needed revenge."  I nod again.  "Are you ok with this?"  I'll still be your friend afterwards.  There's no pretense it will happen again, if it happens at all.  She cups my cock and says "It better happen.  We need this to move forward."

It's true, actually.  Cheaters can stop, but the one cheated on will always wonder why it happened, and then they'll wonder why they didn't get the chance, either.  A threesome is a nice way to put it to bed, literally.

Zazzy comes in.  "You're not fucking my wife yet?  What, are you gay?"  No, and don't even think of sticking your little Irish cock anywhere near me.  He laughs.  She laughs, too.  "I hope you don't go both ways."  I don't, and I can't imagine a situation I would.  I tell her for George Clooney, maybe.  "I'd let him fuck Zaz in the ass, but it ends at him.  Or John Cougar Mellencamp, maybe."  She kisses me again, and Zaz pushes her into me and grabs her ass.  She's moaning, and all of a sudden this mom-haired little woman is turning into quite the tiger.

"So you're going to fuck my wife."  I will.  "And I'm going to watch."  No, you'll be involved.  Do you have condoms?  They show me what they have, and I tell them I'll be right back.  I run to the car, my cock straining against my jeans, and grab my own condoms that I prefer.  "I'm on the pill," she tells me.  I tell her that's great for him, but my come stays inside of the condom.  "Oh.  I was hoping for..." or on your body.  Then she grins.  She takes my hand and his hand and sits down in the bed.

Zaz is out of his clothes in 5 minutes.  I'm still fully dressed but Maz took my zipper down.  I was wrong about Zaz's dick, it's not a tiny Irish dick at all.  He's got the long and skinny dick, I've got the average length but thicker cock.  Maz is going to have her mind blown today, if she doesn't pass out from pot and wine and vodka.  From the way she's giving her husband head, I doubt she would.  I remove her shirt by unbuttoning it and sliding it off her arms while she's kneeled in front of her husband.  He's got himself all the way in her throat, so I grab her hair hard and show her how to mouth fuck him properly.  He doesn't last, unleashing all his come down her throat.  She gags a bit but doesn't miss a drop.  "It's been awhile since you did that" she says to her, almost ignoring the fact that I removed her bra and started to rub her back, kneeled behind her.

"Ohh, that's good" she says, ignoring his snide comment.  You don't blow him often, do you?  "Never.  It's... hard to."  I know.  Let's change that.  She drinks some water from an Evian bottle at their bedside, washing down the remnants of his come from her mouth.  "I hate the taste, too."  Well, he does fill himself with potatoes and gravy and all sorts of horrible food that makes his spooge taste like bleach and salt.  Gross, indeed.

She's kissing me now, standing, while he removes her pants.  I sit on the bed and she unbuckles my belt.  She naked, bent over the bed to kiss me as I lay back.  Zaz enters her pussy and she moans.  Her and I are kissing, her mouth on my face and my nipples and shoulders.  I pull her hair up to me and we kiss, her mouth bouncing up to my nose as her husband keeps pounding into her.  Her moans soften as he loses his rhythm too often.  He stops a few times, then starts again.  "You're going to fuck me properly, aren't you?" she whispers to me between passionate kisses.  I nod and she kisses me again.  Don't let him come in you, I tell her.  She nods back.

He's pounding away, moaning and grabbing her hips and tries to grab her tits from behind.  I push his hands away and slide down a bit so I can lick the spot between her tits, her neckbone, her shoulders.  She has my pants off and is playing with my cock, pulling it out of my boxers.  "Oh, it's so nice.  Can I suck it?"  Once you finish him off in your mouth again.

He's starting to get really uneven in his forceful pumps.  "I'm going to do it in your pussy, you whore" he yells.  We stop kissing, I nod, and she swings around and on her knees as he starts to come.  It's not very forceful, his cock aimed at her mouth but it dribbles out onto her tits and some on the floor.  She takes it in her mouth and sucks the rest down.  Poor guy is beat, so he falls to his knees and a little backwards, preventing a complete collapse using his elbows.  "Fuck," is all he can say.  She grabs a towel from the side of the bed and wipes herself up, and tries to clean up the carpet.

He's breathing deep, but has enough energy to ask me, "Are you going to fuck my wife yet?"  We both are.  "I can't again.  Two is enough."  Trust me, you're going to fuck her again.  My shirt is now off, and she's on her knees, pulling my boxers down.  She takes another few gulps of her Evian, and then she engulfs my cock in her mouth.  She gags, twice.  "Ugh, that's a bit thicker than Zaz's."  I grab her neck and pull her mouth back onto my cock.  Gag again.  "I don't think I can get it in my throat."  You will.  I pull her again, and she gets it in this time.  She's got her tongue on the bottom of my cock, rolling back and forth, while her head is bobbing.  I'm in her throat and it feels fantastic.  She pulls off.  "Is it safe to swallow you?"  You won't.  I pull her up and onto the bed and spread her legs while I kneel on the floor.  Kiss my woman, Zaz.  "Your woman?"  Just do it or I won't fuck her and you'll have to again.   So he crawls up on the bed and kisses his wife.

I tease her body, her thighs, her knees and ankles.  I suck on her toes and press down on her foot arches, causing her to moan.  I spend a good 15 minutes tasting every part of her body, from her navel to her hips to her shoulder.  They continue to kiss but I can tell Zaz keeps watching, entralled at how I dance my tease across her body.  "Just fuck her already."  

I get up, grab my bag and get a cigarette.  I smoke it while I stroke my cock.  "Do you want me to suck you again?" Maz asks.  "No," I say, exhaling.  Just sit there and kiss your husband.  Play with your clit a bit.  She does.

I finish my cigarette and put it into her 1/4 full bottle of Evian to douse it.  I kneel again at her and take her finger out of her wet pussy and into my mouth.  She tastes sour, probably not eating the best diet herself.  Not horrible, but not close to decent tasting.  She moans when I do, and I put my face into her pussy and lick at her lips.  She's wet, really wet.  She moans as I thrust my tongue into her pussy, and then lick her asshole.  "Ohh, yes."  She likes it in her ass, I can tell.  I get up and ask her if she lets Zaz fuck her ass ever.  "No, he asks."  I look at him and he nods.  You should.  Not tonight, but you should.  You'd come like no tomorrow with his cock up your ass and your vibrator in your cunt.  Her eyes widen at my vulgarity, but she smiles.  "Maybe."  I tell her she should, and soon.

I go back to her pussy, and her clit is completely exposed, throbbing against the heat of my mouth.  I engulf her large clit into my lips and suck gently, licking gently.  Her hips are rocking so I pull up.  "Noo, don't stop."  I tell Zaz to hold her hips down so she can't move.  He straddles her, his cock on her belly, holding her hips down.  Lick his ass at least, Maz.  She does and he moans, his spent dick getting slightly hard.

I go back to eating her pussy and she's moaning and trying to writhe but his strong arms prevent it.  A little restricting of a woman's movement can really set her off.  It doesn't take her 5 minutes to come, her pussy juices covering my beard and my mouth.  "Ohh god that was what I needed."  I move up to her and tell Zaz to get off of her.  I fly up between her legs and kiss her, letting her taste her own come and juices from my mouth.  "Fuck my wife, Sane.  Make her a whore for me."  I back off, grab my condoms, and place one on.  "Stick that limp dick in her mouth." His not-so-limp dick is back in her mouth, and I penetrate her, not very hard.  Instead, I slam into her gently, softly, while she sucks her husband's growing cock.  As I slam into her, I feel her body respond to various intrusions.  I put my hands on her hips and find a rhythm that she likes.  She moans, her husbands cock down her throat.  He moans too.

As I pummel her pussy at the right pressure, the right depth, pulling out the right length, and grabbing her hips with the right pressure, she starts to tighten up.  Will you come for me, whore? "Ohhh."  Will you come with another man's cock in your wet cunt?  "Ohh, yes."  I keep at it, pounding just perfectly it seems while Zaz's cock is stuck in her throat.  Her moans are cut short by it.  I keep pounding, and she starts to come, her hands grabbing at my stomach and hips.  She comes hard, and I keep pounding.  Even after she comes, her pussy is wet and open and her clit is still looking like it can handle some more.  So I don't stop.  Another 10 minutes of pounding and Zaz is smacking his wife in the face with his now hard cock.  She's moaning and swearing and staring at me with huge eyes.  "God, fuck me with that cock of yours.  Fuck me, I need it."  I do.  I feel myself getting close and close my eyes.  "Are you going to come in my wife, you cheating bastard?"  Zaz asks me.  Yes.   "Ohh, please come in my pussy."  I keep slamming, and I bite my bottom lip a bit.  She's watching me, and this gets her off again.  "ohh, fuck, I'm coming again, god damn it fuck me don't stop.  fuck me and come in me."  I do.  I keep slamming, waiting for her full release.  I collapse on her tits, Zaz's cock inches from my own face on his wife's cheek.

My cock is in her, in my condom, still hard.  "Did you finish?" she asks between pants.   Yes.  "You're still hard."  I am.  "You can keep going, I think I can handle it."  Just get on your knees and close your eyes.  She listens.  Zaz, get over there and jerk off on her face.  He stands up on the ground and listens.  I take the condom and pour my come out of it into her open mouth.  Don't swallow it.  It rolls off her tongue, down her chin and onto her tits.  She spits the rest out, letting it slide down onto her body.  "Are you both going to come for me?"  We will.  Zaz jerks off with a weird circular twist.  I spit on my hands and stroke slowly.

He's watching his wife, on her knees, my come on her chin and her tits, and he's close.  I'm not, but I can time it better.  When the first shot of his come leaves his dick, it barely comes out.  Poor guy has nothing left.  He gives her a little on her tits, and then he falls on the bed.

I rip her hair from her bangs and aim my cock at her tits.  My first load hits her extra hard, almost to her neck bone.  Another one hits her shoulder and the bed next to her, almost on Zaz's knee bent over the side.  He's trying to watch, but he's beat.  She takes my cock into her mouth, my come still in her, and she starts to suck me off, taking my third load, my fourth load, my fifth load.  She gags as I shove my cock back into her throat and coughs up some of my come onto my pubic hair.  "God, you taste like.." like what?  "I don't know, but it's different."  We both look at Zaz and he's practically passed out.  Maz steps up, my come still on her tits, mixed in with her husband's come.  I help her into bed and she spoons against him.  "Do you want to sleep with us tonight?"  I don't.  It sounds nice, but in the morning you should be together.  Now you've gotten what you wanted, you can forgive him.  "I needed this."  I'm glad.  "Are you going to be uncomfortable?"  Never.  "We probably won't do it again."  I'm fine with that.  "I'd like to, but he'd get jealous."  I look at him and he's completely passed out.  I understand.  I liked it, too, but it's a one time thing.  She nods and looks at my cock, still semi-hard.  "Do you want to fuck me again, while he sleeps?"  I nodded yes.

She cleaned herself off, and I fucked her one last time, slowly and passionately.  We kissed, and he slept through the whole thing.  She brought me close while she was on top, and when I came she removed my condom and swallowed me one last time.  He never woke up.  We kissed again, and I dressed and left.

We're still friends.  They've told only a select few people about it, but I'm fairly certain they've never repeated it.  We don't talk about it unless we're really drunk.  I won't get stoned in front of them again, I don't want a repeat.  Was it lovemaking?  No.  Was it sex?  Yes.  Was it needed?  Probably by both.  It brought some fairness to his error in judgement.  It gave her an amazing orgasm and a great fuck that she needed.  I wish I gave her another orgasm when I was inside of her, but it wasn't to be.  She has her man, she has her cock, she has comfort and balance.  It was a good night, and I won't soon forget it.

Exciting sex after the years, pounds, comfort

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A Marriage Saved through Infidelity

I met Gosia through two friends, both female, neither of which were previous girlfriends or lovers (sad, too, because they were both fantastic!).  They were doing girls night out and invited me over to buy them a round of drinks, which I was only happy to oblige.

Gosia didn't go out often.  She's an immigrant, coming to the U.S. from Poland around the age of 15.  She was absolutely gorgeous: beautiful face, feminine figure but not perfect, great eyes.  She didn't smile, she didn't laugh.  She wasn't drinking much, just listening to the bar sounds around her.  I avoided her because I didn't want to intrude into whatever was making her so miserable.  "Why are you so sad?" is NOT something to inquire at a bar or social event.

Our mutual gal pals told Gosia before the night was up that I might be able to give her some pointers on being happy again.  She nodded her head no, but I gave her my email address and said she can feel free to talk.  A few weeks later, she emailed me, asking me what my story was.  I didn't have much to say other than letting her know it is obvious that she's hurting, and that maybe I can give her some help there.  "How?"  Most people are sad for similar reasons.  I've seen that change, maybe you can change what's bringing you down.

She talked over email for weeks, sending me little hints at the source of her sadness, but nothing concrete.  We agreed to meet over coffee in a very safe, public space.  Then it came out.  "My husband doesn't love me."  He was too busy at work, too busy at his hobbies, too busy to even notice her.  "I think he's cheating on me."  I asked her for some details and confirmed to her that he wasn't.  Men who cheat make obvious mistakes, women who cheat rarely get caught.

Over months, she became very engrossed with asking about my personal life, living vicariously through 2 relationships I had over those months.  At first she asked me simple questions like "Is she pretty?" or "Do you think you love her?"  Over time, the questions became a little more personal like "Is she a good kisser?" and "Will you sleep with her again?"  Finally at another coffee gathering she told me she wished that her husband was more passionate.  Not in the bedroom, just at life.  At 24, they'd been married 4 years, and she was already overwhelmed with boredom in life.  Very sad.

Eventually, I discovered that she also had no passion.  They had a codependent relationship.  Their marriage felt forced by religion and family and the idea that "this is how it's done."  I felt terrible, because I knew that there must have been a sexual woman inside of those beautiful, sad eyes, but I didn't sense it at all.  She hated her body (she was about 5'5" and 150lbs).  She hated her face and her hair.  She hated her laugh lines and wrinkles just appearing.  She hated her part time job and her responsibilities at home.

I offered to help her with them, one at a time.  I asked her what she hated most.  "My ass.  My boobs will start sagging."  At a size 8, she wasn't big at all, but I understand the reality was that she didn't like herself inside and was blaming her outside.  I helped her make some minor dietary changes: no more croissants in the morning, get rid of that low-fat milk garbage, stop using sugar in her coffee, increase healthy fats from eggs, fish and even beef.  In 6 weeks she burned about 15lbs.  She was starting to look very sexy on the outside, trimming her belly and waist but leaving her fantastic butt and chest.  It showed.

After 2 months, I got her a spa gift card for her name day (it's like a birthday in Europe that people with the same name celebrate).  She refused it at first, but I said I wanted to help her fix the problem she has with her own face.  I never called her beautiful, I never complimented her except once when I saw her midriff and told her it was marvelous what her dietary change could do.  She went, and I told her who to see.  I told the manicurist and the stylist and the hair color gals what not to do: don't go over the top.  Keep her exactly the same, but make her sexy.  It's amazing what 3 inches off the side will do, letting those "mommy bangs" grow out.  Her hands were scrubbed and nails polished.  Her face was cleansed and done up in nice makeup that they let her keep.  When I saw her 3 days after, I was shocked: she is gorgeous, not just beautiful.  My face showed this, and she beamed.

For work, I gave her some pointers on how to overcome the blahs that so many people get.  The first step is to fake confidence and happiness.  I told her to do this stupid trick I've taught dozens: learn what your cheeks feel like when you're faking a smile, and keep paying attention to it when a real smile comes to your face.  Focus on that for weeks.  Focus.  Then, try to keep the feeling in your cheeks of a real smile without smiling.  It actually has an odd effect: it makes you happy.  Her smile was wonderful, and it stuck around.

She was still miserable with her husband.  We fixed her outside in a matter of months, we started to get her inside feeling better.  Her job turned from frustrating to something she loved, since she found ways to stay happy.  When she was happy, her co-workers were happy, and she was the center of attention.  It made me happy.

8 months into our friendship, she dropped the ball on me: they had stopped having sex 2-3 years ago and were not doing it consistently at all.  Her husband was too busy, and she didn't know how to woo him.  I gave her some advice, but I told her that she is responsible for lightening his workload.  I helped her trim a lot of excess spending from their budget.  They cut their cable bill in half, she dumped her cell phone minutes to almost none, she started wearing sweaters in the house when he was gone and dropping the temperature to 65 degrees.  She cheated at the grocery store on cheaper but healthy products.  The $400 a month in savings took a huge burden off of him within a month when they finally had some money in the checking account.

As spring rolled around and our first year of being friends came to pass, she said things were feeling better.  She was pinching his butt randomly; she was complimenting HIM when he looked nice or she caught him doing something nice for her or the house.  She showered him with appreciation.  It made a difference, and their bedroom experiences were increasing.  He wasn't a good lover, but she had never been with anyone else, so she had nothing to compare.  I asked her if she was sad that she had no other experience, and she said she was but that her rearing led her to believe it was important to be a virgin in marriage.  How wrong that thinking is.

The first major problem is that she didn't masturbate often, if at all.  In men, masturbation can cure our desire for a full day.  In women, it can make them much more horny.  Single girls who say "I need to get laid" are probably taking care of business way more than you'd think.  They don't brag about it, but it's getting done.  I told her she needs to take 15 minutes a day and get to work.  Whatever can get her going should: soap opera studs, staring at Jessica Alba in the new woman's magazine (no, it isn't lesbian to have those thoughts, the girl is beautiful), thinking of her man or a previous boyfriend, whatever.  She didn't want to, and I told her it's not required, but it will keep her sex drive lifted.

That was the last discussion about her sex drive and the bedroom from her for awhile.  Instead of telling me about her problems, she started inquiring about my sex life.  At this point, I was so busy that I didn't have anyone and wasn't looking to hookup.  "What about Dani?"  Dani was my sugar-baby at the time, a really beautiful and broke college girl who looked amazing in anything I bought her.  Seeing a guy.  Not sleeping with me.  "That's too bad."  I didn't tell her that Dani attempted to give me head twice and failed miserably.  *shudder*  I didn't want to go there, I just was happy to get her dolled up and see her skip and hop after it.  That was one fun gal.

Gosia inquired about previous girlfriends and lovers.  "What did they like in bed?"  "Were they freaks?"  "They asked for WHAT?"  So I told her, over coffee, sitting in a Caribou, keeping my boisterous voice low so as not to scare off the moms with prams drinking non-fat lattes next to us.  "Oh my, is that something that is sexy?" she'd ask.  I'd shrug and smile, it depends on the woman and how much she knows she's a woman.  "I guess I'm not much of a woman, I don't even know about these things."

And so it went on: I helped her trim down to her perfect weight, helped her reduce the family's budget so there was quite a bit of money left over for a vacation or an emergency car repair (they did both, and still had cash left over).  Her husband was being more attentive in the bedroom, but she still wasn't satisfied.  I asked her if she was taking care of her needs regularly, and she said she had stopped.

Why?  "I got nervous."  It's natural, and it helps so much.  "Not about that."  Then?  "I was nervous about what I was fantasizing about, all the stories you told me."  Those things are natural, too.  Society has made men desire things and women feel repulsion over the same acts.  "No, I looked them up on the Internet and I like the idea."  So keep it in your fantasy.  She was silent for a long time, we drank our coffee and I watch a few moms and one stay-at-home dad talking.

"I'm nervous about WHO I fantasize about." I looked at her.  She nodded.  No, that's not smart.  I'm not Mr. Perfect, I'm Mr. Right Now.  She nodded again.  You don't want me, you want your husband to do those things.  She shook her head no, looked down at her coffee and frowned.  "I don't know what else to think.  You're so sexy and you listen so well and you have an answer for everything."  I realized that when we were walking to the coffee house lately, she was jutting her breasts out, standing talling, smiling at me more.  I caught her looking at me through a mirror once but she had no idea I noticed.  I have no issues in sleeping with a woman with a boyfriend or a husband, especially when their sex lives have failed.  In her case, she has time to fix it.  Their marriage is still new going on 5 years, there are no kids, and they're financially stable.  Her body is gorgeous, her face is beautiful.  I have a thing for Polish women, but I've only been with 2.  They are fantastic in bed, but still pure and sweet out of it.  I shouldn't be even thinking about it.

We parted with our usual hug and smooch, and she grabbed a little lower on my back to pull me closer.  "Think about it."  I looked at her and smiled and said I did but there's no reason to.  I walked her halfway home and then got myself home for an entire afternoon of looking for cute, blonde Europeans on video taking care of their own needs.  That didn't help me at all with the situation.

When the next week's visit came, she was happy, bouncing.  I told her I noticed.  "I'm fucking myself again," she said.  Those are pretty much the only vulgar-ish words I'd ever heard her say.  She used euphemisms shyly.  Is that how you call it now?  "Yes.  It's right, too, because my husband's sex is not fucking."  How so?  "I want to try things in the bedroom, but he can't stay awake long enough to even talk about it."  How's your budget and your new eating habits?  "Don't change the subject on me."  When a Polish girl gets mad, or emotional, or focused on a subject, there is no winning over it.  She has to run her course.  So what can I do?  "Keep talking to me.  I have new things to talk about."

She asked me every sexual question in the book, covered every perversion, fetish, fantasy and desire of men and women.  "Why do guys like doing that?"  "Have you ever...?"  "What do you look at when you...?"  I told her the truth, as best as I knew it.  Her questions weren't unique, but coming from what most would consider a pure and virginal young lady, they were extremely hot to me.  I didn't want to get aroused and shifted uncomfortably in my chair.  "Is this turning you on?"  Yes.  "What will you do about it?"  I told her what I did about it before.  "Really?  You were looking for me online?"  Yes.  She blushed.  Then she shot me an evil grin.

I changed the direction of the conversation and we discussed the plans they had for travel, for household upgrades.  We parted ways, and again I went back to looking for a woman who looked like her, but this time with a man.  Not smart, but I needed the release terribly.

The next week, she hit me with a proposition of sorts: "Is there anything we can do that you woudln't feel guilty over?" I told her I don't get guilty, but I also don't want to confuse my need for her with what her needs are: to convince her husband to be a better and more attentive lover.  "I have no experience in the bedroom, maybe I'm doing something wrong."  I did agree that that might possibly be the case.  "So show me."  I don't think that's smart.  "You've done it before."  Yes, but those cases were completely different.

"Will you let me show you how I do it myself, and make a comment?"  No.  Yes.  No.  I'm not sure.  "I've never seen you confused."  It doesn't happen often.  "So can we go somewhere for a little while?  I promise, it'll just be a teacher and a student."  That didn't help, because the last piece of porn I found happened to be a blonde girl dressed as a schoolgirl getting reamed on her teacher's desk.  Not my idea of good porn, but the girl was strikingly like Gosia.  "We can go to my place."

We walked to my car and got in.  She was a little giddy, I was swallowing spit constantly.  I smoked three times as many cigarettes in the car as usual.  What was I doing?  If the circumstances were different, I probably would have taken her in the bathroom in that Caribou.  But the circumstances are where they are: she's not unhappy overall, and she hasn't tried hard enough in the bedroom to get me to agree that she needs a lover.

My place is a bit far from her so we drove for 15 minutes and she threw question after question at me.  "Who was your favorite lover?"  "Who did you love last?"  "Why aren't you sleeping with anyone?"  "Do you get bored with women who know nothing about passion?"  "Where did you learn how to talk to women?"  I try to answer her questions as promptly as possible without any major details shared.  We arrive at my place and walk in.

She sits on the big couch, I brought us some bottled water and glasses.  I sat in a chair.  "Come sit next to me."  Are you sure what you're doing?  "Yes."  I sat and offered her a bottle of water.  Instead, she unzipped her jeans and started to pull them off.  "I think you should keep them on.  If I see too much, things might go in the wrong direction.  She nodded.  Her hand went under her panty line and her eyes closed.  I was hard in 5 seconds, doing my best not to stroke myself through my pants.  She moaned softly, and her hand was moving way too vigorously.  One thing I've noticed with women is they can either be good at teasing themselves, or they can be too quick.  Gosia was too quick.

She opened her eyes and instead of looking at me, she looked at my pants.  Wearing slacks today wasn't a good idea.  Her eyes widened when she saw the condition I was in, which only made it bigger.  She moaned immediately at the slight movement my body made outside of my control.  It didn't take her long.  She stared at my face that was watching her, her hand grabbed her own breast and she came really hard.  I wasn't expecting a peep out of her.  When she was done, she put her wet hand on my hand.  "Oh, I am never so loud.  I get afraid that someone might be home or that someone will come over and not knock."  It's a common fear.  "Did I do it right?"  No one can tell you how to do it, but I think you should try going at it slower.  Caress your own body, tease your own body.  "I needed it fast, though."  I know, but it still makes sense to take it slower.

"Do you want to do it too?"  Yes, but I won't.  "Please?  I want to watch.  I never watched my husband, but I know he does it."  You should invite him to watch you and watch him.  "Just once.  Just so I have something in my mind that is real."  That's what I'm afraid of.  "I won't ask for more."  I know, I lied.  Her hand fell to my cock through my slacks and it jumped again.  "Can I do it for you?"  No.  "Do you want me to?"  Yes.  "Then why not?"  It's not wise.  I can take you home.  "What will it take for you to do it in front of me?"  Less pressure.  "Nothing else?"  Be more specific about what you want.

"I want you to masturbate for me."  Do you?  "Yes."  When?  "Please, right now."  Should I just put my hands in my pants?  "No.  I want to see it, to see you."  You want to see what, my hand?  "No, your penis."  What?  "I want to see your penis."  I don't like that word.  It's like high school biology.  "I want to see your dick."  Dirtier.  "Your cock.  Please touch your cock, I want to see it."  I unzipped my pants, with her wanting to help.  I pushed her hand away and put my hand under my boxers.

"Please, let me see it."  I pulled my boxers down and it was there.  "Oh, it's perfect, it's like I dreamed."  You shouldn't be dreaming about it.  "Please, touch it for me."  Touch what?  "Your cock, touch it for me, I want this."  I started to stroke it.  Her hand went into her panties again and I looked at her face and then closed my eyes.  I heard her moaning and looked and her jeans and panties were at her ankles.  Her hand wasn't rubbing her clit but sliding up and down on her lips.  This woman learns fast.  I looked at her beautiful pussy and noticed how large it was.  Her clit was big too: this woman's husband is crazy for not giving it to her often.  Her blouse was open and one breast was hanging out.  Her other hand was rubbing her nipples harshly.  Her moans was intoxicating.

I was stroking my cock, and she put her head on my shoulder.  "Will you do it for me?"  I am doing it.  "Will you ejaculate for me?"  Say it better.  "Will you, will you?"  Tell me what you want me to do.  "I don't know the words."  Tell me to come for you.  "Yes, yes!  Will you come for me with your cock?"  I stroked slower but harder, spitting on my hand.  Her fingers were now going inside of herself and popping out.  Her clit looked amazing.  I thought more than once about putting my mouth on it, but resisted.  She noticed.  "Do you like it?"  It's lovely.  "Do you want to put your cock in it?"  Yes.  "Can we?"  No.  "Some day?"  Maybe.

She started to come again, which sent me over the edge.  My come was hitting my stomach and my shirt that I should have taken off.  She watched and then she removed her hand from her tit and rubbed my own come into my stomach.  She lifted her hand to her mouth.  "I haven't tasted it before."  Never?  "No, he does it inside of me always and I don't want to taste myself."  You should.  It's normal.  "Women do it?"  I was still spurting on my stomach and now on her hand which had returned.  Yes they do.

We both collapsed, her head returning to my shoulder.  She exhaled finally as did I.  "Will you kiss me?"  Yes.  She turned, pulling her hand out from her still-wet pussy and putting both around my hips.  We kissed, and kissed some more.  She pulled up her panties but left her jeans on my floor.  It was almost 1pm.

As we kissed, she slid off my slacks and boxers completely and rolled over to straddle me.  She licked some come off my dress shirt and then put her tongue in my mouth.  We kissed for half an hour.  "I want you to make love to me."  Ok.  "Now?"  Yes.  She giggled and ran to my bed.  I followed her under the sheets.  "I've only been with Gregory."  I know.  "I mean, I've done nothing else other than kiss and show my breasts to other men."  I understand.   Don't be too nervous.  "I'm excited, not nervous."  We kissed some more and I put my hands on her shoulders and my fingernails across her arms while she shuddered.  Her panties were on, my boxers were off.  My cock was putting pressure on her mound and clit and she was grinding constantly, moaning constantly.

"Will you put it inside of me?"  No.  Instead I rolled under the covers and put my face near her pussy, smelling her through her soaking pink panties.  Another moan.  Another grind.  "Please take them off."  Instead I ran my nose across her slit to her clit and then starting kissing her above her panty line.  "Please take them off."  I refused.  I kissed her belly and worked up to between her breasts.  She moaned again.  "Please lick them."  I refused.  I nibbled on her shoulder and let my breath flow to her chin.  I avoided her mouth.  She tried to kiss me and I let it fall on my cheek.  "Ohh, please touch me."  I refused.

She tried to grab at my cock but I pulled back, kissing her surprisingly flat tummy.  Her tits were beautiful and I really wanted to bite and suck and lick, but I had to control that.  Instead, I flipped her over.  The back is my favorite part, and I spent a good 15 minutes touching and caressing and running my nails lightly enough to trace goosebumps like a tattoo.  I pulled her panties off and ran my tongue into her ass.  "Ohh, yes."  I licked at it and lapped at it and even penetrated it a few times.  "Ohhh, no."  No?  "Yes, yes."  No or yes?  "Yes, please."  I continued.  While rimming her I ran my palm up and under and cupped her mound so she could grind against it.  I didn't move it or tickle her clit, just cupped her entirely.  "Ohh don't stop." I actually wasn't doing anyting but eating her ass out and letting her grind on my palm.  "Ohh my lord yes."  Then I pulled away.  "NO.  Don't stop." She turned over to face me.  Are you mad?  "Don't stop, please.  It felt so good."  I'm done.  "No.  Don't do that!"  Are you mad?  "Yes!" Am I a bastard?  "Yes.  Please more!"  She gripped me and pulled me closer.  Maybe we're done.

"No, no please, I want you!"  You want what?  "Please make love to me, please."  Do you want me to fuck you?  "Yes, fuck me, please!"  Do you want my cock?  "Yes, I want your cock inside me."  Where?  "I want your cock in my pussy, please."  I went and got a condom and rolled it on.  I spread her legs and she looked down to watch me put it in.  Instead, I patted her clit with my cock head.  She moaned and her hips gyrated.  "Oh, please put it in."  What do you want?  "Please, your cock, fuck me." Again I refused.  I left my cock on her clit and grabbed her hips.  I was surprisingly close to coming.  She was gorgeous like this, biting her bottom lip, grabbing her own tits and finally grasping at my cock.

"Please fuck me, Chicago, please."  I want you to fuck me.  She moaned, and then moaned again as she grabbed my cock and put it inside of her.  Once the head went in, I pinned her body and refused to go deeper.  "Oh, please put it in me."  It's inside.  "No, please fuck me.  Deeper I want it deeper."  I listened.  I ripped into her as hard as I could.  I pulled out too far and I popped out.  "Ohh, put it back in," she said and then she did it herself.  Again I rammed in as far as I can go.  I'm not long, about an average 6 inches, so I don't generally go too deep to hurt anyone.  She wasn't very tight, so it fit very nicely.  "Ohh lord please again."  I pulled out just enough, waited a second, and slammed right back in.  "Yes, yes, like that."

The progression happened from that on.  I quickly learned that she liked it slow and hard, with very even meter and rhythm.  Her moans are still in my head many years later.  Her eyes would open and watch me, and then look down and watch my cock going in and out harshly.  I kissed her and she swallowed my mouth and tongue and practically my entire body as I did.

After about 30 minutes, my hips were hurting so I was going to change positions when she wrapped her legs around me and started to come.  She came very hard, her pussy juices soaking my pubic hair.  "Oh lord yes, yes don't stop."  I didn't, and when she was done I stopped.  She took more than a few minutes to catch her breath.  "Did you finish?"  No.  "Do you want to?"  I don't need to.  "I don't know if I can handle it anymore.  Do you want to finish yourself or have me try?"  I'll do it.  Where do you want me to do it?

"I want to watch again.  Please."  Where?  "I don't know.  Do it, please.  However you want to do it, please."  I pulled the condom off and straddled her stomach, my cock inches from her tits.  She tried to look down by her neck hurt, so I adjusted her pillows so she could watch.  I was stroking it, and every so often I'd push up on my knees and put it on her lips.  She gobbled at it and licked at it and whenever I pulled it away she looked mad, sad.

Do you want my come?  "Yes, please."  Where?  "I don't know, just do it for me."  Do you want to taste it?  "Yes, I love it.  Please."  In your mouth?  "Yes, please."  I stroked a little faster, a lot harder.  My precum was rolling out and around, only her spit and my spit making it easier.  I was close.

Close your eyes and open your mouth.  "No, I want to watch."  I don't want to get it in your eyes.  "I don't care, please."  Tell me where you want my come.  "Please, I want your come."  I was furiously stroking my cock.  "Please."  Where?  "In my mouth, I want it in my mouth."  I came, her mouth was open, her eyes were open.  I shot a load deep in her throat and she gagged.  When she did, I stuck my cock in her mouth and shot two more thick loads in her, which she gagged and coughed up on her chin.  Since it was on her chin, my final two loads dribbled out onto her lips and cheek and nose.  I put it back in her mouth and let her swallow what was left on me, what was left inside me.  She tried but gagged again.

Does it taste bad?  "No, I didn't know there was so much.  I love it."

We fucked for a few months after that.  We made love for a few months after we fucked for those months.  She asked me to teach her how to give head, how to give a hand job, how to ask for my come without asking.  She took it on her face often, loving the feel of my hot come hitting her.  We did it in every position.  The daylight was always outside.  She left with my come on her tits and her face that she didn't wash off until she went home.  She asked me more than once to come inside of her, but I don't do that, ever.  She asked for me to be rough, to be gentle, to be on top and on the bottom.  She asked once for me to do her ass, which I obliged, but I was too thick and she didn't like it very much.  Not much pain, but not much pleasure.

4 months of teaching her all the tricks.  Her sex drive was endless.  Finally, on our last lovemaking event, she admitted she loved me for loving her as a woman.  She admitted that she's been introducing new things in the bedroom.  She let her husband buy her a vibrator.  She surprised him with porn.  Their sex life was better.  She said she felt like she was cheating now.  "Not then?"  No.  I understood.  We kissed that last day for 3 hours.  She sucked my cock twice, swallowing for the last time for me, ever.

Years later, we're still friends.  Her life is better.  She doesn't spend too much money.  She stays in shape.  She has great sex, and her husband is happy.  I take a little credit for that, giving her months of womanhood but falling away when she needed me to.  She was one of my best lovers, willing to try everything, learning my body and my limits.  Once in a blue moon, she'll ask me if I remember this or remember that.  I lie and say I do, but when I read my private journals, I'll remember it fully, if only for a short time.

I wouldn't touch her again.  She's a complete lady now, a woman to desire but never to touch.  I am proud that she made the decision that our lovemaking and our fucking went from teaching to cheating.  She stopped it at the right time.  If the day comes that their marriage fails, it won't be over money or sex or age.  I wonder when that first baby will come along.  They're ready for it.