Last winter my wife flew out to spend a week with me on a jobsite. My assignments away from the office seem to be increasingly longer and more frequent, so we were looking forward to quality time together. Unfortunately, as so often happens, problems developed, cutting into our time together. My cheap short-term studio apartment was no fit place for her to spend time alone.
A major winter storm was forecast for the weekend. We were concerned about making her flight, as she had commitments on Monday back home. I was able to cut some corners, pull some strings, and shut the job down Friday, allowing us to drive north, Thursday night, to a hotel near the airport. We arrived in snow flurries and freezing rain, settling in to sit out the blizzard.
Joanie is very reserved sexually, but occasionally, something will turn, like a key in a lock, and release the wanton woman within. It doesn't happen too often. This time it happened in the hotel pool.
The pool was one of those indoor/outdoor affairs, bisected by a glass wall on the side of the building. It was magical, floating in warm water in the moonlight, catching snowflakes on our tongues. I was just messing around, kissing and caressing, but she became the wild woman. She was quick and almost too rough, stroking my cock to erection, tearing aside our swimsuits, and climbing up onto me in a frantic desire for penetration.
She was insatiable. She leaned back to the full extent ofher arms, legs wrapped around my waist. Her arms and legs drove her pelvis, pounding into mine, impaling herself full depth on my cock. She was moaning, crying, "Faster! Deeper! Harder!" My hands got a good grip on her hips, my arms supporting her, pulling her forcefully onto me. Her heels were behind my butt, she thrust hard against me. Her strong thighs were nearly crushing me. She wailed in desire, "Fill me! Deeper!" Her cries eventually became quieter, she was nearly exhausted.
I carried her to the steps, quivering around my erection. I turned her, pushed her up a few steps, partway out of the water. In the darkness, amid swirling snow, I bent her over.Her hands found support on the top step, as I entered her from behind. I slid into her full depth, in this position, absolutely as deep as I could go. I slid back and forth slowly, for as long as I could go slowly, deeply in, then almost all the way out, then fully back. I held a breast in one palm, the fingers of the other hand busy at her clitoris.
When she began to moan and thrust back against me, my strokes became shorter and more forceful. Her moaning,"Deeper, deeper. Deeper!" became less articulate, and more animal. I beat against her, using all the muscles of my back and thighs. When she added a rotating motion of her butt, I lost it, exploding as deep inside as I could penetrate.
She never came down for the rest of our stay. We were nearly alone, in an almost empty hotel, isolated from the world by the storm. We had sex in the hot tub, the shower, the sauna, and the weight room. If I wasn't hard, it was in her mouth, getting hard. Overnight, she was a master of deep throat.She took me full depth, into her throat, easily, without gagging or hesitation. It was fantastic, but I had to wonder, how did she learn? She said that she was just making it up as it happened, but I wasn't convinced. It felt great, but it also made me feel smaller, somehow. When I couldn't promptly produce another erection, my tongue and fingers were in her flowing pussy. By Saturday night I was spent and exhausted.
Sunday morning, I was taking my turn in front of the mirror, while Joanie made phone calls. It was only by accident that I overheard part of her conversation. "We've been snowboundfor three days together," she said. "We've had more sex than on our honeymoon! But no orgasms..." She noticed me in the mirror, paused with her hand over the mouthpiece, and with hand gestures shooed me out of the room.
When I had finished and returned, she was ending her call, saying, "I'm sure you can take care of that problem for me when I get home." She laughed at the response, and disconnected. I wouldn't have taken any notice, if she hadn't blushed furiously when she realized I'd heard.
We argued about the ride to the airport. She wanted to check us out, then take my car. I wanted to wait, giving the snowplows every opportunity to clear the roads before putting my Mercedes at risk. I prevailed, and we rode the shuttle bus to the terminal. I didn't know what I had won, until I realized that the hotel bill included a record ofphone calls charged.
What can you tell from a voice on the phone? It was articulate, and deep, with a salesman's power of persuasion.The tone was firm, masculine, competent, and yet almost arrogant. Somehow he sounded young, tall and well built. I got his name and a business address. A friend on the police force gave me his license number and home address.
A week later my start-up was scheduled to last yet another two weeks, using all the overtime in the budget. Another contractor had a crane accident, dropping a load onto the transformer and switchgear. We were down for at least amonth. Without hesitation, as rapidly as possible, I cleared the site, threw my stuff in the trunk, and was on the road home.
A lot of thoughts pass through the mind during an eight-hourdrive. How many combinations could I make of two snippets ofconversation, and her pleas during sex? Was she insatiable, or was I incompetent? Had she ever had an orgasm with me, did I ever satisfy her? How had she become so skilled at deep throat? Who was her teacher? How much bigger than I must he be? As it turned out, I didn't need the information I had gathered. His car was in my driveway when I rolled up.
I entered the house quietly, following the sound of music toward the sunken living room. I made my way to the loft on the second floor level, and looked down from above. He was sitting on the couch, wearing my silk robe. He was watching her pace about the room, wearing a nightgown over a sexy outfit I had bought her, in a house I had designed and built and was sweating to pay for. Somehow this seemed more of a violation than giving herself to him, her giving him what was mine, passing on to him what I had given to her. I watched them for an hour.
"I gave him every opportunity," she said. "I think I still might love him, a little. I gave him a whole week to get his act together, to compete, to give me what I need. I know he gave me all he had, but after you, he just doesn't have enough!"
He rose and crossed the room to her. She tried to evade him, but he caught her by the shoulders, and held her back against him. He kneaded her shoulders and back, I could almost see the tension and anxiety flowing from her. They spoke quietly. I could no longer make out the words, only her high-pitched laughter and his deeper murmuring.
She turned, and stood on tiptoes to kiss him deeply on the lips. His hands fell, cupping her firm ass cheeks. They looked like they were devouring one another. I could see his large hands caressing her butt, then pulling her tight against his crotch. She responded, rubbing herself side to side against his groin.
I was watching her take on her second personality, my demure, reserved wife becoming the wanton sex-starved seductress I had so rarely seen. He was playing her like a musical instrument, pressing all her buttons, buttons that I only dimly knew existed, and found only by accident, even after long years of marriage.
He stepped back away from her. I could see his bloated cock obscenely tenting the silk robe. Joanie could see it too. My wife studied his covered erection with awe, then massaged it with the palm of one hand. "God I love this," she breathed.
.... There is more of this story ...