Introduction
Some simple background information always makes for easier reading.
This story is true. Name and detail changes have been necessary for obvious reasons.
To set the stage, we had known each other for years. She was in the midst of trial separation, I had just ended a long-term dating relationship; she had children, and we were both, quite obviously, in the need of affection - the kind of affection one can only get through intimacy. We were both vulnerable for what happened - starving for physical contact.
Marie was an absolutely beautiful 35 year-old woman. Trim, but not toned. She was the mother of three young children. She had kept herself trim by watching her intake. She did not, however, freak about working out.
As for myself, I was 28. I lived next door in the house where I grew up. When I was 25, my parents had been killed in an accident while on vacation, so the house was left to me. I'm a self-described average guy. Average in height, weight, and yes, length of cock. I'm not going to tell you that I carry 8 or 9 inches, because I don't.
So what did we do? We became lovers of convenience, or what today would be referred to as "fuck buddies."
Chapter 1
Marie and I had always hit it off well. Our contact was always what would be considered appropriate – you know, the kiss-on-the-cheek greeting, the occasional hug. There was, however, that sixth-sense nature in our relationship. Each seemed to know what the other was thinking, about to say, or might do.
I had always been the go-to guy for Marie. Odd jobs never having been Joe's forte, I'd get the call, before and after he left the scene.
It was a warm, early November day on the cape, nothing telltale in that, we could have been sweltering or up to our asses in snow. Marie gave me a call and asked that I look into why a slider wasn't closing properly. Nothing major, it had just slipped off the track. I had it fixed in minutes. Rather than head out the door, I sat to have a cocktail with her. Conversation led to how we were dealing with our lives, and of course, since we had that knowing relationship, the subject of sex crept right into the dialogue.
I had always marveled at how easily we handled what others would think of as very personal subject matter. In the beginning, I was the one asking the pointed questions. In time, she followed suit with little effort. A typical conversation, laced with laughter and rib-poking, would carry such phrases as "How's your dick handling all that hand action?" I would follow with "Not bad, have you been giving yourself a workout with those dildos?" We had that relationship that wasn't about disarming the other, but rather lowering the formality to a comfort level. We could discuss things that to others would be taboo.
While having our second cocktail, and getting a little loser, we started confiding to one another about our mutual horniness, and our frequent solo releases. She wanted to know how often I did it, and of course, I wanted to know all about her self-satisfaction schedule. Could I watch? Could I help? She asked the same questions of me. It was all talk, or so we convinced ourselves inwardly. Neither of us had gotten laid in two months and we were definitely feeling it. We teased each other with innuendo to the point where, without so much as a handshake, I thought I'd cum in my pants.
I had to leave. When I got up, I gave her a kiss goodnight, but the kiss didn't break. Our usual quick peck became a full-fledged, spit-swapping tongue dual that left us both breathless. I'd never felt that much blood rush to my cock so quickly. When our lips parted we were both wondering what had just happened. Before we could advance or retreat however, we heard noises from the playroom that had to be dealt with soon. Marie's children, aged 9, 7, & 5, had been watching a movie on their VHS, and were about to head up to bed. My presence was not out of character. I was always Uncle Will from next door. Marie quickly put them to bed, leaving us to, at first awkwardly, then comfortably, talk about what had happened and where it might lead.
We sat next to each other in her darkened living room talking quietly, making the conversation last until we knew the kids would be asleep, or at least that's how I saw it. When we came together again, we were all hands. I couldn't take it any longer, so I just leaned in and kissed her, hard!
I know, it was supposed to be gentle and slow, warm and intimate, but we were both love-starved. No, I take that back, we were sex starved! With the confidence usually shared between longtime lovers, we removed each other's clothes, pausing only to pay homage, if you will, to a particular asset.
Marie was small-breasted, just filling a B cup. Her nipples however were conical and long, and more sensitive than any I've made love to, before or since. She could have an explosive orgasm through nipple stimulation alone. I know because she had several before I ever got to her belt buckle. When I did get that buckle open and slid her jeans down, her white cotton panties were soaked through. Even her jeans were wet. I stayed at eye level to her pussy as I lowered her panties. She had quite a growth of pubic hair, but that didn't deter me. I lowered her back down onto the edge of the sofa then feasted on that wonderfully tasting center of her sex. She gasped loudly, "What are you doing?" I suppose I had a bewildered look when I responded that I was eating her pussy. That bewildered look turned to shock when she confided that she'd never been eaten before.
