I've put a lot of thought into how I should recount my first true extramarital sexual experience. In the end, I've decided to speak frankly -- and in detail -- about how it happened. My intent is not to titillate, but to honor the experience in its entirety. Therefore, in the interest of my readers, I issue the following disclaimer:
What you are about to read includes EXPLICIT DESCRIPTIONS of a real sexual experience. If you prefer not to consume such material, feel free to read my other posts.
My husband Ben, smoking a cigarette, watched on from several yards away with a satisfied grin as Michel fingered me. His index finger curled up and repeatedly traced an infinitesimally short path. I reached desperately for the cock I had yet to see, that I longed to stroke and tease with my mouth.
He brushed my arm aside with his free hand.
"No, not yet," he said. "Not until I say you can."
We purposefully drifted away from the rest of the group. Taking a shower was the logical thing to do -- he was sweaty from hauling moving boxes all day, and it was as good an excuse as any to get naked. I thought back to the first time I had ever seen a man naked: my future husband and I together in the shower. Then, too, it had been awkward and nerve-wracking for me, but it had progressed no further than lying stripped and damp in a dorm-room bed together. This time, I knew, would be different.
When the door closed, I could sense that I had reached a critical moment -- I was alone, only slightly tipsy, with a man I had never met before. Completely exposed and vulnerable. Even though I knew I could change my mind at any time, that Michel would not force me to do anything I was uncomfortable with, I also knew that once the clothes came off, inertia would carry me forward. As a way to acknowledge the awkwardness of the moment and move past it, I told him about that first time with Ben, and we both laughed.
He cleverly used the anecdote as a segue to slide his fingers inside me -- picking up where he'd left off only moments before. Without an audience, it was less theatrical and more intimate. I realized then just how much of a
man he was -- 6 feet tall, deep voice, a 7-inch uncut cock begging for a woman's attention. Suddenly eager to touch him after having been denied so long, I dropped to my knees. My hands roamed along his inner thighs. I moaned as his lightly-veined cock hardened in my mouth -- he was getting hard for
me...
Ben was waiting for us in the friend's bedroom. A sensual
tête-à-tête transitioned surprisingly easily into a
ménage à trois. They kissed me, caressed my body, fingered me in turn. Alcohol and cigarettes prevented the situation from escalating into full-on sex, but I assured them both that the night was still young...
A few hours later, Ben had succumbed to the alcohol. He was passed out on the living room couch. Michel, on the other hand, had fully recovered.
"Suce-moi."
Ah, that was French I understood. Fucking hot. I hungrily slipped him into my mouth. He was longer and wider around than I was used to, but as I slid my hand up and down his shaft and heard his soft moans of pleasure, I regained my confidence. This was familiar territory. After a few minutes, he rolled on a condom, bent me over, and took me roughly from behind. His cock stretched me from the inside out, and several times I had to beg him to not go so deep. The sex was like a rich dessert -- not something to have on a daily basis, but which, goddamn it, I was happy to indulge in.
I leaned through the opening between the living room and the guest room and halfheartedly called for Ben to wake up and join us. In truth, however I was eager to keep this round between Michel and me. Luckily for me, neither the sound of our bodies slapping together nor my unrestrained moans -- bordering on screams, really -- woke him.
I was fucking a man without any marital supervision, and I fucking loved it.
To be continued...
