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Why do I do it?
I know that it is not everyone’s cup of tea. I know equally well though that there are many of us who thrive on it, who enjoy it and get a big buzz from it. I know I do. I get a massive kick and huge excitement from it. There’s some guilt and trepidation too of course, but they are relatively easily overcome. The downsides are far outweighed by the upsides; well, they seem to be at the time. And one of the upsides, ironically, is that often, afterwards, and usually during it as well you feel closer to your partner and it can become the glue that keeps the relationship stuck together.
Now I am talking, of course, about women cheating. Horrific as it may sound to some, it does happen. Women do go off and ‘sow their wild oats,’ oddly just like men do and have done for years. Well, in this new age it’s the females’ time and it’s us who can have our cakes and eat them too as we fuck both our husband and our lovers.
I’m talking about cheating. About playing away from home, being unfaithful and having bits on the side. Long term affairs, short flings and even one-night stands, they all provide that buzz, that kick and usually those thrills and excitements that are missing in our marriage. During and between my two marriages, I have had loads of buzzes and kicks and lots of thrills and excitement.
Liaisons such as described above arise from many situations. This series of stories, some of which is taken from real life as it happened to me, looks at the motivations, pleasures, excitement and concerns of the more common circumstances.
The Young Man.
I was rarely attracted to men simply by their looks. There is, though, always an exception to every rule isn’t there? Carl was the exception. Like many, maybe most, women easing their way through middle age I had a thing about having a young man. Not as a date or to go out with but, not to be too basic, to fuck. To have that one last fling, that one last several-times-in-an-evening and, yes, that one last feeling of him being ready again almost as soon as I was, before I slide off into middle or even old age.
I was rarely attracted to men simply by their age. There is, though, always an exception to every rule, isn’t there? Carl was the exception.
I was rarely attracted to men simply by their physique. But there is, though, always an exception to every rule, isn’t there? Carl was the exception. He was part of a team doing some work in the grounds of our house just outside Redbourn in Hertfordshire, some 15 miles or so pretty much due north of London.
Irrespective of the sexual thing and him being essentially my prey, I felt that Carl was probably one of the most beautiful young men I had ever seen in real life. He was over six feet tall, well built with a toned and muscular, but not bulky body. He had longish, blonde hair, high cheek-bones, a nicely squared chin and full lips. With the warm weather, he and the other guys had stripped down to either jeans or shorts and vests with the company’s name on them. The supervisor asked me if it was ok for them to remove their shirts.
“They can do as they wish as far as I’m concerned,” I replied, rather looking forward to seeing three or four young men’s physiques. “I’m surprised you asked.”
“Our guvnor makes us ask and doesn’t let anyone go topless, so we have to wear tee shirts.”
“Oh now that’s a shame,” I smiled back in the joking manner that the guys and I had developed.
A couple of days later, Carl was at the house by himself. Was it luck, a coincidence or had I heard and forgotten that he would be alone, explaining why I wore tight white shorts and a pink tee shirt without a bra? I hasten to add that going without was not something new, as I often went braless. With my modest B cup boobs, not much gets shown unless of course it’s cold or I get aroused!
“I’ve got sprite, coke or would you prefer a beer?” I asked him as he stared at me, with his big blue eyes after I suggested he take a break
“I’d love a beer please.”
“Come on inside out of the heat,” I suggested.
“I’m a bit messy, perhaps I shouldn’t,” he replied, indicating his boots and gloves, and mud- and water-splattered tee shirt.
“You could always have a shower if you like,” I suggested, rather hoping he would accept.
“I’d love to, but I still have to continue with this afterwards and I’d get all messy again.”
“Ok, so just slip your boots and gloves off and come into the kitchen. It’s beautifully cool in there.”
I watched him struggle with the long boots until the first came off, taking his sock with it. He must have gotten some water in there, I thought, as the same thing happened with the other.
I walked ahead of him along the Yorkstone path, across the patio and up the four steps to the kitchen. I knew full well that I was exaggerating slightly both the sway of my hips and wiggle of my bum, and was sure that he would not be able to avoid seeing it.
“Have a seat,” I suggested, pointing at the pine chairs around the long eight-seater almanbahis refectory pine table.
My heart was pounding with excitement and expectation. I was pushing things; I knew that. It was one thing fucking an estate agent or guys I met well away from home, but quite another seducing a young guy and cheating in my own house with a virtual stranger.
As I got the drinks my mind was in a whirl. In it, Carl was not sitting at my kitchen table in shorts and a tee shirt. No, he was naked in my bedroom. He wasn’t complimenting me on my kitchen, but was telling me what nice tits I had. He was not relaxed at the table, but was strikingly hard on my bed. He was not saying ‘I would like to have a beer’, but was saying, ‘I would like to fuck you Christina’.
There was no way out. I was now totally and utterly compelled to go on, to push things further, to extend my boundaries, to gain a new experience and to try to get Carl to fuck me. Looking at him as I opened the beer, I knew that was the case. I simply had to have him. I simply had to, here and now and bollocks to the consequences.
Up until not long ago, when I had started having men other than my husband, there were loads of relationship and sexual things I had never done. Two in particular were that I had never picked up a man and I had never seduced one. Recently I had experienced the former and now, I hoped, I was going to find out about the latter.
Given my dealings with, probably, more than a dozen men I had now been with, I’d learned some tricks and techniques, though.
“So do you have a girlfriend, Carl?” I asked, starting to turn the conversation onto a more intimate level after we had been chatting and sipping our drinks for a few minutes. I’d learned quickly from James, a recent lover.
“No, no I don’t.”
Looking him directly in the eye and holding his gaze slightly longer than usual, just as Adam had done, I asked, “But I bet you have loads after you, don’t you?”
“No, not really.”
“I can hardly believe that; the girls around your way must be mad.” I went on crossing my legs and pointing the toe on the top leg toward Carl, a little body language trick I had picked up from John when he pulled me to himself in a hotel in Manchester.
“Well I don’t get that much time,” he mumbled as I watched his eyes checking out my legs.
They are tanned a rich golden colour and are slim, lithe and long, vanishing into a pair of tiny shorts that only extended down my thighs for six inches or so. I had let my flip flops fall off so that my feet were bare.
“You should try to make time,” I suggested leaning back in the chair and taking a swig of my beer. We were both drinking our Buds from the bottles.
I was aware that by leaning back the tee would be drawn tightly across my small but shapely tits. I was also aware that his gaze would be drawn to them. Quickly looking up, I caught him staring at my breasts. ‘Bingo, got him,’ I thought as our gazes locked for a moment. I smiled, he gulped and started to blush.
“Well, I had better get on with the hosing.”
“Really, you’ve almost finished, haven’t you?”
“Then you’re a fast worker, aren’t you?” I smiled, letting the double entendre register with him as I stood up and walked past him; my swaying hip almost touched his shoulder. I walked right around the table so that he would see my bum swaying in the slightly emphasised manner I adopted when ‘on the pull.’
I went to the small fridge and, bending over with my bum pointing right at him and my legs open, I got two beers.
“I think two more beers are needed before you get to work…,” I said, pausing before turning and looking him right in the eye, “Don’t you Carl?”
“Yes, yes, Ok. Errr, I mean thank you, thank you very much.”
I could not quite put my finger on the feelings I had when I saw what I was doing to the young man, but I had a strong surge of them. They combined pleasure, excitement, power, exhilaration and, I had to admit, relief as I saw that my wiles were beginning to work.
“You seem nervous, Carl,” I said walking over and standing right in front of him. His eyes ran up and down me sending even more sensations through me.
“There’s no need to be,” I said brightly, holding out his beer to him. “Either.”
“Either? Either what?” Carl stammered, taking the cold bottle.
“Sorry or,” I said looking him straight in the eye, holding his gaze, again a little too long as I paused and smiled before adding softly, “Nervous. You aren’t nervous of me, are you?”
Holding the beer in one hand, with my other resting on my hip I stood in front of Carl, quite close to him. I was now incredibly nervous in the way that I have got used to being when I was near to a pick up. The adrenalin rush that gave me was quite amazing. I had my right foot in front of the other with my right leg bent at the knee, and my left one dead straight. It was an intentionally provocative pose.
He didn’t reply, and looked down at his beer, obviously shy and highly nervous.
“Are almanbahis giriş you, Carl?” I asked quietly.
Despite my sexual excitement and strong desire for the young man, I felt sorry for him. He was obviously not that confident, which was possibly a reason I felt so attracted to him. He was also, clearly, not that experienced with women and what I was putting him through must have been agony for him, but I had to make sure. As hard as rejection may be for men, it is even harder to take for a woman when she shows her hand and makes a play. It would be especially hard when that woman is old enough to be the boy’s mother.
“Yes,” he mumbled
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t bite, you know,” I said, pausing before smiling, and adding. “That is unless you ask me to.”
I was relieved to see him smile as he looked up at me.
I was pretty sure I had him now. I moved forward, I bent my knee a little further so it was as good as touching his.
“Would you Carl?”
“Would I what?”
“Ask me to?”
“Ask you to do what?”
“Ask me to do anything.”
He was confused, but then I had done that accidentally.
“Yes Carl, yes you can.”
Looking back later that evening I was amazed at how such a convoluted and mixed conversation could have led to such an exciting conclusion.
“Are you sure?” he said.
I decided it was time to take the bull by the horns.
“Yes Carl I am sure, you can ask me to do anything you like.” I paused, waiting for that to sink in and then adding lightly. “Such as, you could ask, would you like to sit on my lap, Christina?”
Carl probably could hardly believe what he was hearing; equally, I could hardly believe what I was saying. Neither of us likely could believe what was happening as I sat myself on his lap, put my arms around his broad shoulders and smiled into his face as I said, huskily “Well?”
I could see he was so nervous that he was almost shaking and could not reply. He was clearly well out of his depth, hopelessly lost, and totally confused. I suddenly felt against my hip, as hard as concrete, proof that although his mind might be confused, his body was convinced of what it wanted.
I liked that he was shy and nervous. It made me feel warm towards him, for he wasn’t arrogant, cocky, and assumptive or too in-my-face; well, not yet, I smiled. I also liked the feeling of being in control, of leading and probably teaching. It made me feel powerful, and that was an unusual sensation for me and one I never really thought I would like. I was wrong, though, for I did enjoy it. I also loved the feel of his erection pushing against my outer leg, which I had snuggled along his lap so that it pressed against his stomach.
I knew, as well as he did, that it was my role to lead. That it was up to me to initiate things, that I had to lead the way, help him, coax him and teach him. I did just that and it made me feel great.
Swivelling at the waist, so that our upper bodies were facing each other, I wrapped my arms round his neck. I looked deeply into his eyes which had a slightly worried look in them. I smiled, ran one hand across his cheek and whispered.
“Don’t be scared, Carl.”
I moved my mouth forward. He knew now that we were going to kiss. He had nice lips, I noticed, as, turning my head slightly and opening my mouth a little, my lips found his. Pulling on the back of his head, I opened my mouth and with my tongue probed at his lips that he willingly and eagerly opened. My tongue slid inside. I pressed it against his, ran it around his mouth, on his teeth, his gums, under his tongue and on the roof of his mouth. I ground my mouth against his, squirming my pink against his redder coloured lips. I sucked his upper lip and then chewed gently on his lower one; I nibbled the end of his tongue and sucked first that then the centre of his lips into my mouth. Putting both arms tightly around his neck, I licked all around his mouth and over both cheeks and pressed my tits as firmly as I could against his solid chest.
I was pulling out all the stops and using everything I had learned from all my years of sexual activity, and particularly what I had picked up since becoming promiscuous. I guessed that he had never been kissed like this before.
As the kiss progressed, Carl’s confidence seemed to grow. I knew that he would not be sure that we would actually shag, and that a part of him would be thinking that I might just want some heavy petting. After all, for me to have full sex with him would be committing adultery and maybe I would draw a line at that.
However, to my excitement he began returning the kiss eagerly and energetically. His arms were around my body, crushing my chest against his; his hands ran up and down my back, confirming what he may have thought about my lack of a bra.
I also had had some doubts. But these were more about him, not me or the morality or sensibility of our actions. I had moved into a zone where there were no considerations other than my sexual gratification. My doubts were: almanbahis giriş whether he would be able to go all the way; whether he would chicken out; whether it might all be a little too much for him; whether the older woman thing might work against me, and whether he might feel the guilt of fucking a married woman whose husband he knew.
As I felt his response, though, those doubts began to diminish and my confidence also grew.
“Stay right there,” I said, getting up and walking over to the open back door.
I shut and locked it and returned to the waiting Carl. I did not, though, sit back on his lap. Instead, I bent forward, took his face in my hands and kissed him again. Although there was a lot of passion in the kiss, the initial, almost manic, urgency had gone; it wasn’t necessary and this kiss was more loving and enquiring. Breaking the kiss, I remained bent over, holding his face in my hands. I was acutely aware that my top was gaping and Carl’s eyes were gazing right down the front of it. I knew he would be seeing the swell of my breasts and my wildly exploding nipples. I knew all that and got a big kick from it.
I sat back on his lap and reached down to find the bottom of his vest; I started pulling it up.
“Lift your arms up for me Carl,” I said huskily, as his gorgeously broad chest was slowly exposed as the tee shirt went up and up.
He had a good tan, I noted as it fell to the floor. His chest was muscular, but not bulky and had a thin covering of blonde hair across his breasts. That ran down the middle vanishing into his belt. I knew I would soon be undoing that, and my eyes and hands would follow the hair as far downward as it went. The prospect of that made me shudder with such want and sexual need for this young man.
I kissed his chest and nibbled his nipple.
“You have a lovely chest Carl,” I whispered running my fingers lightly over it and slipping the tips of them inside his tight belt; that made him jump and he gripped me tighter.
“Is that nice?” I asked as simultaneously I sucked his nipple and slipped my fingers further into his trousers.
“Yes, it is,” he stammered, seeming to be hardly able to speak coherently due to his nervousness.
I moved my mouth to his other nipple as I continued fumbling in his trousers. I couldn’t find his cock and wondered momentarily whether he was tiny, although what had pressed against my leg earlier suggested quite the opposite. I realised that it must just be the angle we were positioned relative to each other. Easing myself away from him a little, I looked right into his eyes as I took hold of the bottom of my vest. Swivelling my body more so that it was square to him, I smiled and whispered.
“I hope this’ll be as good,” as I pulled the vest up and over my head. Shaking my head so that my blonde hair fell back into place I revelled in the look on his face.
“Oh God, Christina, you’re lovely,” he groaned as he saw my bare tits, while my fingers moved near to where his prick was caught up in the folds of his shorts.
I leaned forward and ran my nipples across his chest loving the feeling of his hairs against my flesh.
“Touch me Carl,” I whispered taking hold of his hand, lifting it up and pressing it against my breast.
Tentatively, as if he half expected me to stop him, he cupped one breast and squeezed it gently.
His touch was just right. Gentle but firm. For a landscape gardener he had surprisingly smooth and soft hands and they felt lovely as they investigated every part of my breasts.
“Kiss them for me Carl, suck my nipples, they’re aching so much,” I whispered as I held his face between my hands.
I pulled on the back of his head and pushed myself forward at the same time. I was trying to make the contact between my nipple and his mouth even firmer than it was. He alternated his mouth from one breast to the other and from one nipple to the other as I pinched, pulled and squeezed his nipples. He was sucking and chewing, I was rubbing and stroking. He was becoming braver, I was becoming more aroused. He was now stroking my bum, I was now loosening his belt. His fingers were down the back of my shorts finding the elastic of my thong, mine were down the front of his shorts finding the folds of his boxers.
Then my fingers found what they had desperately been searching for: that marvellous sensation of a soon to be lover’s bare cock. My body jolted as I released it from the constraints of his boxers and shorts. I shuddered as I wrapped my fingers around it, pulling it away from his clothing and letting it adopt its majestic upright position.
I slid off his lap and started, frantically almost, pulling at his jeans. It had suddenly become crucial to me to see him naked. I had to see his body, all of it and especially the part that would so soon enter me.
“Lift yourself up, quick,” I groaned.
He was, not surprisingly, as big as he had felt when it was pressed against my leg, but that did not matter, I thought, as between us we struggled to get his jeans off. Although not as big as it had been in my mind, it was every bit as beautiful. ‘Yes,’ I said to myself. ‘He has a beautiful cock,’ something I could only think when with a lover, for photos of hard ons did nothing for me; holding them, though did plenty.
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