We sat in the hot tub in my backyard in the cool spring night. It had been almost two years since our first forbidden tryst and I had since broken up with my would-be fiancée. She had married hers.
There was no alcohol that night, but she gave me the first foot massage that didn't tickle and that was intoxicating enough. When it was over, I hugged her tightly with gratitude, but a new feeling came over me. We'd only just begun seeing one another again and having her in my arms was stirring up old passions.
Pulling back slightly, I looking into her big eyes and kissed her like we'd never stopped going out. Her tongue wiggled side to side in that familiar way and the scent of her hair was all around me.
We both realized what was happening at about the same time, and separated-- forcing ourselves to respect her wedding vows. Turning away, we quickly started talking about something else to distract ourselves, but inside, I was still savouring her sweet taste.
After a while, we got out of the tub and went to the living room to relax. Our conversation had ironically turned to the philosophy of ethics. She was arguing that her concepts of right and wrong were atheistic despite being loosely based on Christian morals. My rebuttal was that neither right nor wrong existed outside human thought and that the fact that she had a moral code at all was due to her socialization in a Christian environment.
The conversation came to a screeching halt as we finally acknowledged our impasse, but I commented on how nice it was to have a thoughtful discussion with her as we used to have. She agreed and we moved to the kitchen.
We stood facing each other and feeling drawn, I put my arms around her, hugging her once more.
"I've missed you," I whispered and kissed her neck lightly.
"Me too," she said, one hand running up my neck to the back of my head.
We stood like that for a moment before it slowly turned into another kiss.
"We shouldn't do that," I said after our kiss broke, but my body betrayed me, and my arms remained around her waist.
"I know, but I've been lonely, and I do enjoy the attention," she seemed to be holding an internal debate.
She had told me earlier about how she and her husband worked opposing schedules, and the only time they spent together was in sleep. How her opinion on kids had come full circle, and having had two previous abortions and a sterile husband, she was worried that she'd never have a family. She had confessed in the hot tub that she'd often wondered what her life would be like had she married me instead of him.
Our lips met one last time in the kitchen as a decision had apparently been reached. She led me down the stairs to my room and we fell to my bed, kissing with fervour.
Her body was soft and warm under mine and it wasn't long before I began kissing my way down her neck and across her chest. My fumbling hands managed to get the fly of her jeans undone and she raised her hips off the bed to help get them off.
I pulled off her jeans and started planting little kisses along the inside of her leg, working my way toward her sweet pussy. Unfastening my own jeans, I pulled them- together with my boxers- down to just below my knees. Urgency was building in both of us.
I had left her panties on for an excuse to make a second trip along her smooth legs, but her patience ran thin. She grabbed my shoulders and brought my face back up to hers and drove her tongue into my mouth once more.
I snaked my hand down between us and pulled the crotch of her panties aside to find her cunt already dripping wet with anticipation. Gripping my cock, I leaned into her and ran the tip along the length of her lips.
When the head of my cock slipped over her clit, she let out a quiet gasp. As soon as it left the warmth of her lips, I felt the cool basement air on my wet head and it sent little slivers of ice shooting through my dick, across my belly and dancing behind my ears. Goose bumps formed on the back of my neck as the pleasure hit me and I let out a gasp of my own.
Just as I was positioning my cock to penetrate her, she broke our kiss and looked into my eyes, snapping us both back to the harsh reality of our situation with a question in the guise of a statement.
"This never happened," she said.
Having cheated together once before must have made it easier for us, but a little note of guilt still plead a hopeless case against my lust. If I were a better man, maybe I would have stopped it there and she would have returned home to her husband with a clear conscience.
As much as I'd like to play the hero, history is a strict mistress and refuses to change for my benefit. My only comfort is knowing that it was not lust alone that drove me that night, but love as well.