Archive for February, 2009

Half-Term Break with S . . .

It’s been half-term school holidays here and S called on Tuesday morning to say his wife and children would be away at her parents for two nights. He asked if I’d like to “pop-down for pasta and wine”. I replied that I’d love to visit him the next evening. I agreed with J that I’d go straight to S’s from the office rather than have to come home first . . .

I’d texted S that I was on my way shortly after six and he asked me to text him again when I got to the Station and he’d pick me up, but I told him I’d feel more comfortable just getting the bus to our home stop as usual and then just walking round the corner.

He met me at the door dressed in just his robe, explaining he’d just showered and would run me a bath if I wished. I said I’d love just being able to soak after a horrible day at work, without having to worry about walking round my own kitchen picking up dirty mugs and plates and glasses left out by the kids and then having to prepare an evening meal. I followed him upstairs to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bath and chatted for a few minutes whilst he started the water and bath oil. As he left me to return to the kitchen for the wine, I undressed and slid in with the taps still running.

We chatted more on his return and I just enjoyed lying back, sipping wine, as we exchanged our news since we’d last seen each other two weeks ago. I lounged for 20 minutes or so before telling him I was ready to get out, and he found me some clean towels. One to dry, one to wrap.

S had laid out the table with candles, bread and dips . . . and of course, more wine! He’s cooked for us before, but it’s always nice to be waited-on, and spoilt, and just being able to sit down at the table just as though we were at a restaurant (except of course for our attire).

I’d wrapped myself quite tightly in the towel and pushed the corner of it down in the front of my breasts to hold it in place. I could see him keep glancing at them as the towelling worked a little lower as we ate and talked. “It’s not going to fall-off you know”, I giggled at him. “Couldn’t I unwrap it then?” he asked, “I’ve always wanted to eat in a topless restaurant”. I laughed and said “Go on then”. He reached over and pulled it loose. The towel unwrapped and fell away as I continued with my pasta, pretending to be nonchalant as though nothing had happened. I just jiggled a little as I lifted the fork up to my mouth and, suggestively, guided the pasta inside. I was trying not to giggle as he gasped out “Fantastic, your tits are always fantastic. I think about them all the time”.

We continued with our meal . . . and although I was momentarily enjoying myself, exaggerating my movements reaching across for bread, or sipping on my wine . . . and could feel that my nipples were quite hard and loving the way he was looking at them . . . we were soon chatting again quite normally.

Once we’d finished, S got up to top-up our glasses and then said that he had some DVDs that we could watch in the living-room. He offered his hand and I just stood up . . . letting the towel fall away from me and walked with him naked to the sofa. I sat back as he said that he’d finally worked-up the courage to order some movies after our session in “your front room last summer”.

As he walked back towards the sofa with the remote controls, I stretched my legs out and told him he wasn’t sitting down next to me until he’d taken off his robe and “dared to bare”. He laughed and pulled it off and I curled back my legs so that he could sit down next to me.

We sipped at our wine and cuddled into one another as he explained the lengths he’d had to go to to hide them away from the rest of the family. He went quiet for awhile as we watched, but as I know how much J enjoys me commenting on things when we are watching them at home, I started making the sort of remarks I would as if I had been with J. And, as I do actually find them quite arousing, it wasn’t hard for me to start saying “lovely body”, or “do you like her boobies” or “god I could never take that!”. I started gently stroking him whilst we watched. Just barely touching him at first, just brushing my fingers across him, then a little more deliberately along the top of his willy. Then as I felt him growing harder, I slid my fingers around him completely. He shifted a little and turned to squeeze me and kiss me. I returned his kisses for a few moments, sliding my hand up and down on him now, before pushing him back and telling him “you watch the movie for a little while longer”.

I then dropped down onto the floor, kneeling in front of him, still stroking his erection and leaning forward to flick my tongue across the head of his cock. I had my back to the screen, but could hear the groans and moans from the movie, and hear his own gasps as I started sliding my mouth up and down on him. As I pumped slowly up and down with my mouth, I reached my hands out, pushing them up onto his chest and pushing him back upright against the back of the sofa. I was sucking up and down faster now, trying to match the rhythm of the noises I could hear coming from behind me. He was responding by meeting my mouth going down by thrusting himself upwards and I could hear him getting louder. I heard him calling out, so pulled my mouth away, grabbing him with one hand and muzzling my nose and lips into his balls as I heard him coming with a loud gasp and felt him spurting out as he thrust back and forth in short spasms. I felt him splashing onto my back and shoulders and several drops on my hair. He was now whispering his groans rather the loud gasps as he’d come. I was still holding his cock and kissed his balls, telling him “I love that”. He gasped louder and pulled me back up onto the sofa.

On the screen the same girl was still being engorged by the same two men . . . “I don’t know how they can keep going on for so long!” I said to S as he opened his eyes and re-focused on the TV. “I’m sure they edit it to make it look longer than it really is!”. We laughed and snuggled into one another, continuing to watch, separating occasionally to share gulps of wine from the same glass. As we emptied the first glass, I stretched out to place it down onto the table and reach across for what had been my glass, still, for the moment, nearly full. He slid his hands up over my nipples as I reached out and brought the glass back to us. They were already quite tingly, but feeling his hands sliding across them made me shudder even more. He slid his mouth down onto my right nipple as I twisted back to our previous position. “Wine?” I offered him a sip and then reading my mind he took a mouthful and then leant forward . . . as I’d shown him shortly after our first liaisons all those years ago . . . sucking my left nipple into his mouth and releasing a splash of the wine onto me. It’s a gasping, tingling, moment that always sends me, even when I know it’s coming, into loud groans and wanting “more, more”. We twist and slide together, with him moving over more onto the top of me. His mouth moving from glass to nipple, to glass to the other nipple, and then lifting up further to release another jet into my mouth. Our tongues swirl around each others, gulping the wine down between us. Dribbles running onto our chins. Then more gasps as he releases another mouthful onto my nipples again, splashing from one to the other.

The glass is quickly empty now and he takes it from me and sits up to place it onto the table and then slide down onto the floor. Now it’s my turn to be pushed back against the sofa, whilst he kneels between my legs and starts flicking his tongue around me. I’m oblivious to the TV screen now, as his tongue slides and probes. I pull his hands up to my nipples, telling him to “squeeze my tits, fucking squeeze them”. I’m pushing my hips forward off the edge of the sofa and swivelling up my legs over his shoulders, squealing at him as his tongue slides right around under me. He has slid his hands down to my hips now, so I’m squeezing my own breasts and gasping out “eat it”. I can feel him reaching round with his fingers, but I am almost at the point of coming, and push them away, blurting out something like “I don’t want. Just keep eating me.” He knows that I am close and so just holds me by each hip and keeps sucking and tonguing up and down and round and round. His tongue is going too far round and I have to reach down with both hands to spread my lips and help him with my clit. The explosion is so big that I have to squeeze my legs together and hold his head against me. Shuddering and shaking, and holding him until I stop. J tells me that when I do this to him, it is sometimes almost suffocating and he has to actually pry my legs apart to get loose. I suddenly realise I’m probably doing the same to S, so I let go and relax my grip a little. I still can’t open them wide though, and S is still kneeling on the floor, supporting me and stopping me from falling forward onto the floor. I eventually relax enough for him to lift and fold me back up onto the sofa, asking me if I’m alright. I nod and, apparently, hold the palm of my hand out as if to say “go away and leave me alone”. I didn’t realise that I’d motioned that way, but just recall rolling onto my tummy onto the sofa, stretching my legs out to the end, and turning my head into the cushions.

S had to wake me . . . an hour later apparently. I’d fallen asleep on him yet again!! I sat-up, he’d draped the towel over me, and had put his robe back on, and started apologising. He laughed and started kissing me, telling me that at least he knew I’d “had a good time”. It was almost midnight and he asked if I needed coffee, whilst he gathered my clothes for me. I asked for more wine instead, but agreed I did need to go home.

When he returned he’d dressed as well, to walk me home . . . but we sat together, back at the table, he’d wanted coffee, talking again about how quickly the year was going by (half-term already, it had seemed like the kids had only just gone back after Christmas!). We talked about when we could next get together again . . . “you used to see me every two weeks” he complained, even though he knew it had only been two weeks since our last hotel evening.

We continued our planning as we walked home. It was a much milder evening than it had been two weeks ago, but I joked that I had more clothes on now than when I’d returned home then. (I’d had to put my work suit of blouse, trousers and jacket back on, rather than the long overcoat I’d had on that night). We kissed quickly at my gate and I watched him walk back down the street until he turned at the corner to wave goodbye.

I opened the front door to hear the TV blasting from the front room . . . and found J and both the children still up watching a movie !!! J followed me into the hallway asking “you’re home early?” I whispered my reply “I’ve been watching movies too! I’m exhausted and going up to bed.” He nodded eagerly and said he’d just say his goodnights and be “right up too”!

Lady in Red . . .

S had been texting and calling me for a week suggesting we meet for “an early Valentines”. As the weather had been so bad over the past few days, and negotiating the streets and finding parking in Hampstead can be difficult even in normal circumstances, we agreed to meet directly at our normal hotel. S suggested we could order room service and just soak in the bath whilst we waited.

He’d reminded me it would be an “anniversary” of sorts (he’s always coming up with “anniversaries” of different meetings, places or events of our times together) . . . so I decided to impress him by packing the red bra, panties and suspenders set he’d bought me last year into my “work bag” as I left for the office in the morning. I’d shown J of course as we got ready to leave in the morning. We always kiss our goodbyes passionately in the morning when he knows that I’ll be meeting S after work, but knowing that I was taking “special undies” made him even more passionate than normal.

The, by now, depressing routine of nine hours plus at the office was made more bearable during the day by my tingles of excitement that I’d be having an evening out after work! I freshened-up in the washroom as all my colleagues disappeared one by one, and I locked myself in my office to do my nails and begin changing. I knew I had loads of time before I needed to call a taxi, so decided to do my toenails as well. As I sat with my tissue dividers between my toes waiting for them to dry I got more and more excited thinking about “dressing-up” for my meeting. I’d already changed into my bra and suspenders and panties and was sitting on my chair with just my jacket draped around my shoulders whilst waiting for my nails to dry. I decided that perhaps I didn’t need my blouse or skirt after-all . . . that perhaps I could just arrive with my grey woollen overcoat and scarf . . . and nothing else at all apart from my lacy red undies. I was sure he’d really appreciate seeing his gift displayed so quickly as I took-off my coat!

Then reality kicked-in and I realised how dangerous, and naughty, it would be to be sitting in the back of a taxi all the way from the West End to the other side of Hampstead with virtually nothing on except for a coat and scarf. I’d walked, in the middle of the night, the few streets to and from S’s house like that, but travelling miles and miles in the back of a black cab . . . that was an entirely different matter!

The more I thought about it though, the more tingly I became. I thought about calling J and asking him, but I knew he’d be on his way home and, anyway, I knew what he would say of course!!

I removed the tissues and pulled on and fastened my stockings. I pulled on my coat and scarf and sneaked down the corridor to the washroom. The mirror isn’t full-length but I stood back as far as I could to see if it “looked unusual”. As I slipped back to my office I knew I’d have to be phoning for a cab soon anyway, so I had to make up my mind. I could hear my voice almost trembling as I phoned. Here I was ordering a taxi on the business account . . . arranging to meet a lover not a client . . . and I was hardly dressed appropriately for company travel . . . Would the radio-controller be able to tell from my voice, would the cab-driver know ?

Fifteen minutes before the cab would arrive and I took off my coat and started to put on my skirt . . . several times!

I was excited . . . and then sensible . . . and then excited . . . and then nervous again. Then my phone rang. Security from reception to say my taxi had arrived !! I pushed my blouse and skirt into the bottom drawer of my desk, tightened my scarf as tightly as I could . . . and, almost floated, to the door of the lifts.

I have sunbathed topless in Spain and Greece, streaked naked for a few hundred yards through Epping Forest in the pouring rain, spent a day at the Tennis Championships with no panties beneath my dress . . . but I have never felt so tingly and so naughty . . . and so aroused as I felt sitting in the back of that taxi. As we crawled along Edgware Road and I gazed out of the window at everybody bustling by and the other cars next to us in the traffic, I felt hot flushes rather than chilly as I thought I might. The taxi-driver had his heater on of course, but it was my tingling that was making me feel hot, and I was sure my face must have been as red as my nails and lipstick. The driver was jovial and talkative . . . and I was polite and conversational in return, but all the time my mind was racing about what J would think when I told him later of how I’d left the office. We were still ten minutes away from the hotel when S texted to tell me he’d arrived and gave me the room number. I replied that he could “start running me a bath” and that I would be there soon.

I certainly felt the chill as I stepped out of the taxi outside the hotel and thanked the driver . . . but I felt a completely different sensation as I strode across the foyer and stepped into the lift !!

I found the room easily and tapped lightly on the door. S kissed me lightly on the cheek as he let me into the room, telling me “your bath is ready madam”. But as I twisted off my scarf and unbuttoned and opened my coat he just stood for a few seconds, his face changing from a smile to almost a gasping look . . . “wow, incredible, simply incredible” . . . before stepping forward and pulling me into a squeezing embrace. His hands were running all over my back and his kisses almost stiffling me. I had to pull away and extricate my arms from the sleeves of the coat before he was pulling me into him again and kissing down my neck to my breasts. He unclipped my bra and was then sucking at my nipples . . . all seemingly within a few seconds. We were still standing just inside the door of the room. “Do you remember these?” I asked him as I helped him slide the straps of the bra from my shoulders. “Of course. I can’t believe you came just like this”.

“Mmm. I can’t believe I did either, but it’s made me feeling very naughty!” We continued kissing, still standing in the same spot. He had slid both his hands inside my panties, squeezing my bum cheeks and kissing from one nipple to the other. He pulled my panties down, dropping down onto his knees as he pulled them to the floor, and nuzzling into my pussy. As I opened my legs to step out of the panties and shake them off each ankle, his tongue was licking between my lips and he was pulling me into his face as he kissed and licked more. He stood up and led me across to the bed, sitting me down and then kneeling down by the side of the bed to continue licking at me more. I was already tingling all over but protested I should “have my bath first”. He lifted away to say I tasted so sweet and sexy that he didn’t want to stop. He pulled off my shoes as he continued to lick at me and then as I lay back a little more onto the bed, I felt his fingers start to slide over me. I was already gasping and shaking and then groaning as he probed. I moaned my distress as he pulled them out and stopped, standing up to start taking off his shirt. I sat up and began to unfasten my stockings but he asked me to “please keep them on”. He was already hard as he stepped out of his pants and then turned away to walk across to his jacket which was draped over the chair. As he returned to the bed his erection looked lovely as it wobbled with each step.

I told him I didn’t want the gel yet and he paused to drop it onto the bedside table and then kneel back down to start licking at me again. I was so worked up and was holding his head in my hands almost grinding myself into his lips and tongue. I could hear myself gasping and gushing . . . and then moaning again when he lifted away and turned me over onto my knees. I was trying to protest gently . . . until I felt his tongue sliding down around me, flicking at my clit again and then sliding up to start pushing and probing. I was pushing back at him and could tell I was gurgling and groaning loudly already. He stopped to adjust himself and I could tell he was reaching for the gel. I knelt up on the bed a bit further, pulling the pillows down from the top of the bed and resting them under my chin. We’d only been together for less than fifteen minutes and already he was inside me. He was normally much slower than this but I could tell he was really aroused and I knew that from my groans and gasps he would know that I certainly was. I can’t remember feeling so completely relaxed and wanting it like this before, (I have known him for such a long time and always feel completely at ease with him, not quite as I do, or in the way I can really let myself go with J, but still much more open and honest than I could be with anyone else), but whether it was because of my taxi-journey, or his reaction when I’d arrived, or just because my biological clock was at it’s exact optimum, I just felt myself bursting so quickly . . . I couldn’t hear him at all (perhaps because I was being so noisy), but I could just sense that he was enjoying “my enjoyment” and that just seemed to make me want to show it even more.

I lifted myself up slightly off the pillows and reached back to pull one of his hands from my hip and up to my chest. He quickly followed with his other hand, sliding them both under my breasts and I pushed them back down onto the bed again, squealing as I felt my nipples scraping the palms of his hands and then urging him to “squeeze, pinch them”. I was twisting and pushing back at him and could just hear him start grunting quietly with each push. As I pushed myself down onto his hands again he was asking “what do you want?”. I answered “more, more”. As he increased his thrusts, I moaned louder. I know he likes hearing me “talking dirty” and I was urging him on as expressively as I could . . . but I was at the point of completely losing control and then as I came I just had to push my face into the pillow to muffle my screams as I reached back with my hand and pushed his tummy away. As he pulled himself out of me I immediately rolled onto my side and pulled my knees up to my chest, swearing and gasping rocking back and forth all at the same time. He fell down onto the bed behind me, kissing my back and asking if it had been “as huge as last time”. I could only nod my response and stroke his arm as he reached around me and pulled into me.

We didn’t move for ages, although I couldn’t doze as he was telling me all about his week and the travel problems of the days before. The absurdity of his conversation probably brought me round quicker than if he’d just left me lying there. I started giggling and turning round to cuddle into him, telling him I couldn’t believe he was lying here with his mistress talking about snow and treacherous roads !!! His response was “Are you hungry then, shall we order room service?” I swore at him more and as I could feel he was still hard, I started stroking him and asking “are you sure you need food right now?” I slid my fingers down to cup him with one hand and then pulled my other arm free from under him so that I could keep stroking him with my other hand. I kept asking “are you sure you’re hungry” and then “shall I tell you what I’m hungry for?” I was just about to move down the bed to “eat you up” when he suddenly started shuddering and gasping, and I felt him splashing through my fingers. I pushed him over onto his back, directing his come onto his chest, holding him and stroking him until his splashes stopped. I lay back down next to him, wiping his come over his tummy and then deliberately showing him as I wiped some over my boobs and nipples, enjoying his reaction as I said “J will enjoy licking that off later!”

We lay back cuddling into one another again. This time the conversation had changed from the snow, to how, and what, I would tell J later when I arrived home. S knows that I tell J everything, but unlike in the early years of our relationship, he enjoys asking and questioning me about just what I will say and how J will react. We rarely talk anymore about S’s own relationship with his wife, but he did start talking now about her and his frustrations with her demands (not sexual !!) and her unrealistic pressures and expectations on the children. We lay talking for half an hour or more, S pausing to get up and open the champagne he’d bought. I’m not a great fan of champagne and, of course, initially it doesn’t seem to have the same taste anyway from a hotel room glass tumbler. But we chatted and sipped, and decided to wait before ordering room service. I asked him to take off my stockings and suspenders as they were uncomfortable now. The conversation about his wife continued. I know her of course, and although as J reminded me later that “there are two sides to every story”, I could quite easily visualise much of what S was saying from what I had known from her gossiping and chatting when the children were younger. He went on to say that she had mentioned seeing me waiting at the bus stop one morning as she drove past on her school run. I had looked “all dressed-up with boots which couldn’t possibly be comfortable for office work”. Where once I would have felt guilt and unease with hearing comments like that, or even to be mentioning his wife in conversation at all, fearing that she might “suspect something” . . . I was now actually feeling quite aroused to know that she’d talked about me like that. I should have been feeling shame and remorse, but it actually made me feel quite erotic. Especially as S was now stroking and playing with me as he talked. I could tell it was arousing him as well and as he leaned over to start kissing at my nipples I told him to “suck them again”.

S was soon leaning over me, sucking from one nipple to the other, and sliding his hand down to my pussy. I felt myself arching my back and opening wider for him and then pushing his head down over my tummy. I was soon holding him against me and pushing myself into his face. “Fingers please” . . . I was begging and lifting and twisting. I knew I was moaning loudly again and twisting back and forth and feeling close to exploding again. I swore my disappointment when he lifted away though and started to turn me over again. “No, I don’t want” I told him and started to turn back onto my back again. But he was kissing my bottom and telling me “I can’t anyway” . . . so I let him turn me back onto my tummy. His kisses turned to flicking and sliding with his tongue and I spread my legs and then lifted myself up more as he knelt down behind me. I loved what he was doing to me. Really slowly and gently this time. Sliding his tongue around me and running his fingers around my tummy and down over my lips and clit. I could feel him reaching for the gel again and then felt the coldness of it splashing on me. I felt him changing his hand and then the sliding of his finger and then reaching round with his thumb to grip me. He told me later that he loves kissing the cheeks of my bottom when I’m like this, and hearing me gasping out “fucking hell, I love that, fucking, fucking, ohhh . . .” I can hear myself gasping things and I can feel him squeezing and probing . . . but when he swirls the fingers of his other hand around and around my clit I just have to bury my face in the pillow and shudder and shake until I have to pull forward and push his hands away.

I remember blurting out “I said I didn’t want . . .” but then just curling up again and having him cuddling up behind me. Then, this time, we slept. For over an hour. I asked him the time as we both stirred together. He told me the clock said 11.30 and we joked that perhaps we still had time to eat. But we were both well past being hungry and we just continued to talk. More questions from S about sex and what I think makes me the way I am. I told him to “stop trying to analyse everything, just be thankful for what you’ve got”. He assured me he was. But although I was expressing annoyance at all his questions, I did (and do) feel excitement at his interest in what makes me like I am, and what makes it so wonderful for J and myself. When S asked me again what I would be telling J about the evening, I find myself enjoying the thrill of saying straight back to him “I’ll tell him everything of course. You know I always do.” And then saying to him, almost as a teasing afterthought, “I’ll say I’ve had two lovely bummings . . . he’ll like hearing that!” It was clear S liked hearing that as well as he cuddled closer and I could feel him rubbing himself against my thigh. He started to turn me over again, but I pushed back against his chest and pushed him down gently onto his back. “No I really don’t want this time!” I told him.

We lay together though and I could tell as I stroked him that he really was completely hard again and that he wanted to come. I slid down the bed and then just quickly lifted my mouth over him in one movement. He gasped and pushed up and then I began sliding my mouth up and down on him. I could taste the mustiness of him, and the taste of me on him, and the smell and the taste of the gel. But I liked how warm, and hard, he felt inside my mouth as well. I kept stroking up and down on him and he began thrusting up against me as well. He was gasping and groaning . . . but then pulled away. He quickly pulled me up and then back onto the bed as he rolled over on top of me. I started to say “no I really can’t . . .” but then he just spurted out, splashing it all over my stomach, shaking his head and gasping out “sorry, had to . . .” I reached up and pulled him down onto me and giggled into his ear as we squelched together.

This time it was S who just lay perfectly still on top of me. I stroked his back for awhile, but then had to ask him to roll over as his weight began to feel a little uncomfortable. My phone alarm started bleeping a few moments later, so I struggled out of the bed to track it down to where I’d dropped my handbag by the door. I returned to the bed, but reached across to sip at some more champagne and then lightly smack his bottom and tell him it was time to think about driving home “before your snow sets in again”. He joked that he wished it would and that we’d be forced to “stay all night”. But I reminded him that that would be more difficult for him than it would for me.

We slowly began to move around and “tidy” the bed as best we could. S let out the unused bath water. I scooped my undies into my handbag telling him that J was always pestering me to come home naked under my coat. But S suggested that J would probably prefer me arriving home dressed exactly as I had arrived for him. I agreed he probably would, but decided to compromise by just putting on my bra and panties but leaving off the suspenders and stockings. (S was right, J was later disappointed I hadn’t re-dressed completely as I’d arrived . . . I told him “I can never win, you’re never satisfied).

I was glad of my woollen overcoat though . . . as we walked across the car park it WAS freezing, and despite S having the heater on full, the car remained freezing for the whole journey home (thankfully only a few miles).

J was waiting up for me as usual . . . and was as excited as S had been as I peeled off my scarf and coat . . . and he kept requesting I wear the same “lady in red” underwear for days afterwards.

Best wishes - Edith