I haven’t seen you since I was married-we both got divorced at about the same time-effectively killing much of our mutual attraction. The fact is, you’re not a very nice person, and neither am I. But. Still. 0400.
I still often wake up and imagine I hear you letting yourself in through the garage door, always minutes after my husband had left…I imagine I hear your stealthy approach, your weight on the bed, lifting the covers, and rolling me unceremoniously onto my tummy. Two pumps: squirt, squeak, of the lotion dispenser, smearing my lips, making me able to receive. To conceive (Miracle I never got pregnant. Maybe you were snipped. I don’t know).
Roughly holding my hands. You were always hard though. Always ready, always wanting more.
I remember when this particular ritual, this game, started: We were drunk and I told you I fantasized about being taken in my home by a stranger. About my long standing love of restraints, and force, and how I could make myself cum just from remembering how my neighbor would tie me and take me. So that became our kink, you indulging me, and I, you.
Oh. I just gushed a little.
Author: Amazing-Way-6269
[MF] honeymoon Fling
For some reason, I flashed on an indiscretion of mine, on my honeymoon. So I was, what? 28. We took a river trip, 14 days in the Grand Canyon. The second to the last night, husband got bitten by a bee and took a couple benadryl and jack daniels to tamp down his allergic response. I got him settled in the tent, then went to join the group by the boats. Gin tonics without ice.
I had caught the newest crew member ogling me more than once, and frankly, I fancied him. He was called Levi, Tall, thin, shy, thick curly hair. I sat with him, a bit apart from the main party. I knew that if anything was to happen it would be up to me, so I placed my hand high on his leg and levered myself upright whispering for him to stay put as I would be right back. I went back to the tent and removed my shorts and underwear, returning wearing my husband’s big flannel shirt and flip flops. I lowered myself onto Levi’s’s lap, to hoots of approval from the dwindling party of drunken revelers. I had made sure to pull the shirt tails up out of the way so that he could feel my nakedness on his bare thighs. Deliberately I placed his hands on my breasts, encouraging him to explore inside by unbuttoning the front. Once his hands were full of tits, I felt him inflate immediately. I reached back, raised enough, and took him out, guided him in. Gentle rocking motion as the chilly river flowed by and I rubbed vigorously. Feeling him let loose inside was magical and I staggered sticky (very) and guilty (a little) back to my husband’s side.