[Fm] [m-solo] [inc?] [cheat?] A fire inside of me (Part 2)

I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was a mix of shame and desire. She had taken me from the foster house, and given me a home. In a sense, she was a mother to me. Not biologically. But she was in all the ways that matter. And yet, one night, one accident, and everything had changed. She was now a woman. A sensuous woman that I lusted after. I caught myself glancing, time and again. I caught myself fantasizing. I caught myself wandering by the bathroom as she showered. I caught myself wandering by the bedroom as she changed. And every night, I caught myself listening, hoping to hear her. I caught myself hoping she’d call me to her room again. But, alas, the days passed quickly, and my hand was all I had to relieve the pressure, the unfulfilled desire, the insatiable craving of her.

I was almost ready to move on, to accept that my fantasy was crazy, insane, and never to come true, when John announced he’d be spending a few weeks abroad, trying to salvage a failed project. “This won’t be quick”, he said, “they have no idea what they’re doing over there”.

And so he left, his return date uncertain, his goodbye as cold as ever. In a normal marriage, there would have been signs. But in John and Martha’s? No. He was always cold. Detached. And he had made his exit quite convincingly. He called a few days later. It was quick. He didn’t see the point in staying married. He didn’t care. He would send money. “Don’t look for me.” he added on his way out.

Martha didn’t take too kindly to the desertion. She knew there was no love. It was all a pretense, a facade. But that was her plausible deniability. She could tell herself it was all good as they fell asleep silent next to each other. Now? Now even that was gone. And so she drank. Two whole bottles of wine. And as she stumbled her way to the bedroom, “Chad, please come sleep with me” she said.

I went to retrieve my PJs from my room, changed for the night, brushed my teeth and knocked at her door. “Come on in” she said. She was in bed. Visibly buzzed. Her speech slurred. She was wearing a thin white nightgown. Thin enough that you could imagine every inch of her skin from under the fabric. Her perfect pink nipples, her luscious birthing hips. You could even catch a glimpse of the thick bush crowning her pubes, if the angle was just right. It was almost as good as seeing her naked. My heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. And then caught up. By beating hard. Fast.

She didn’t even notice. “I can’t believe your father would do that. What am I gonna do now? I am old. An old lonely hag. With nothing and nobody.” she said, hugging me, letting herself sink deep into my shoulder, my arms. I could feel her warmth. I could feel her full sensual body pressed against mine. Her breasts were firm pushing against my chest. It was an effort beyond words not to become erect against her right then and there. As I felt myself fail, I moved slightly away. “You’re none of that. Not lonely. Not a hag. You have me. And you are still beautiful. Attractive. Don’t fret it. You’ll figure it out. And come out ahead”.

As I said this, our mouths inched closer. She was laying down, I was resting on my arm, my body ever so close to hers, my mouth almost touching her. My words were but a whisper. I could smell her breath, and she mine. “You have nothing to fear. Don’t rush things. You are beautiful” I said, as I could feel my immense desire to close those last few inches, and savor her.

But it was she who actually did it. She was the one to move her head forward, and to let my lips meet hers. She allowed our kiss. She let her tongue in my mouth. She let her hand press my head against hers. I was shocked. In awe. I was terrified. And overwhelmed. I wanted her. This was like a dream. But it was real. She felt a million times better than any of the fantasies I had pleasured myself to. She was everything I had wanted. And more.

I leaned forward, pushed her back on the pillow, and kissed her neck. I bit it. Licked it. I blew air softly in her ear, and let my tongue lick it gently, slowly, softly. She moaned. Writhed. Gasped. She was not used to being doted on. Sex for had probably meant sporadic and brief thrusting. And there I was. Tantalizing every nerve in her body. Knowing her as man knows woman.

“We can’t”, she whispered, softly. It was her duty. “We must”, I retorted. She was vanquished. Like an enemy town after a long siege, I had conquered her, and I would ravage my new domain. I found my way to her thighs, spread them, let my head between her legs. I licked. Titillated. Her legs thrust forward. I savored her sweet pleasure. I drank it. Savored every drop. She pushed me hard, closed her legs on me, her hands on my head as she moaned and begged for more. She came. She invoked God’s name and mine as her body tensed and spasmed with unbearable release.

“I want you Martha”, I said. “I want to be one with you. I want to be inside of you. I want to fuck you.”

I could tell that she too wanted it. “Not tonight. Not yet. Please”, she answered. I knew I could push just a bit more and have my way with her. I knew she’d surrender to me. Her lust was too powerful. Too strong. But I chose to torture myself and her. I chose anticipation. I chose desire. I stood beside her. And stroked myself. In front of her. Looking at her, laying down, spent with pleasure, her hair scattered all around her face, her cheeks red as cherries. I stroked. And stroked. I stared at every curve of her body. And as I was ready to relieve myself, I looked at her, and whispered that next time this very seed would be deep in her womb. She let out a sigh. A deep sigh of longing. And I erupted in a mind-blowing orgasm.

We slept through the night. Peacefully. With as much serenity as one could have in our newfound circumstances. We’d sleep together many more nights. In all meanings of the word.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/b010ci/fm_msolo_inc_cheat_a_fire_inside_of_me_part_2