After I'm Married...

After I'm Married...
By: Mr. Gingerbread (GinnyMay24@cs.com)

AFTER I'M MARRIED

by

Mr. Gingerbread

(Searching in my husband Will's hard-drive, I found a few stories. Here's one of them. He didn't "tell me everything" after all, damn his soul. Gingerbread.)

It was evening. My secretary was driving me in her car. We were in a residential area where a little dale ran along back of some houses and in front of others. It had grass and trees and some swings, picnic tables, even two gravel paths wandering along with the contours of the land. It seemed well kept. She stopped the car, put it in park, leaned her head back against the headrest, subtly raising her lovely breasts?- the rest of her body was ample, plump, but her breasts were so smooth, so round, so fully-packed, they were breath-taking. She sighed, acting bored.

"I brought him here last night," she said.

She was referring to her husband-to-be, Fred, an executive in our company, who was a few years older than she. Mary and I had been lovers?- not really lovers, just fuckers-- for a year or so. Exciting and pleasant. My wife knew about her, hated her, but they had actually had Sapphic sex a few times.

Mary was being very nice to me. At my insistence?- after all, Fred was "taking her away from me," wasn't he?-- she had kept me abreast of her courtship with Fred. She was torturing me while also keeping me hot as hell with her tales of their ever-more intense?- or should we say wild?- relationship. This evening she was showing me one of the places they had fucked, a place that was dear to her because she had lived in one of the houses and often played in the park.

"My God, weren't you afraid some of your old neighbors would see you? Recognize you. Run down to say, ?hello'?"

"They've all moved away, to better houses. Besides, silly, it was dark."

"Like now?"

"Darker."

"How did you find your way?"

She took my hand. "I know every nook and cranny of the place."

"You mean you had some other adventures down there?"

"Well, not many. When I was little I showed a little boy what it was like under my dress, and?"

"All the way up under it?" I reached over under the steering wheel and pressed on her mound. She pressed my hand down momentarily and pushed it away. "Yes," she said.

She knew she was getting me hot. She went on, "I also came back here to make out with boys when I was in high school. Remember, I'm Catholic. I didn't go all the way in high school, but I knew a lot about boys and they knew a lot about me, as you know."

Yes, I did know. I had grilled her for hours on her previous sex-life, extracting every juicy little bit out of her. She pretended to be irritated but I knew she loved it. What they had done was heavy petting, which to her meant not only feeling each other's bare treasures but masturbating each other and performing oral sex, too.

I sat back and looked at the scene. "It's hard for me to believe you did it with him here. Was it on the grass, or the picnic table, or up against a tree?"

"That picnic table right there!" she pointed to one under a tree.

"You jumped out of the car, lay down on the picnic table, stuck you heels in the air and did it. Is that right?"

"I'm trying to tell you. Don't be so edgy. We necked in the car for a while. We were both excited; he was hard, you know, but I didn't want to do it in the car for the Nth time. So I said, ?Let's take a walk to cool down.'

"On the walk down (we were parked right about here), he did what he usually does which is to put his hand on my haunch and feel my hips sway; he likes it when I thrust against his hand. He wasn't about to cool down. I wasn't either. I was moist down there. Had been for a half-hour."

"You mean down here?" I reached over with my hand, thrust it strongly into that apex between her thighs, pushing her skirt down into the declivity. She parted her thighs just a little, leaving my hand there. I had already discerned she was wearing no panties. She hardly ever did.

She ignored my question and continued, "I just led him to one of the picnic tables, the one near that tree." She dropped the hand she was holding and pointed, taking care to brush the bulge in my crotch as she did so. I pressed harder on her pubic bone. A little sigh escaped her. "I sat down on the end of the table (I could feel the roughness of the wood on my butt through my skirt), pulled him around between my knees, and there we were. He knew I had no panties on. First he hugged me to him?- or more like it, I hugged him to me?-tight. He dry-fucked me through his clothes, making two or three thrusts but soon pulled back, and unzipped his fly. I've told you I always get a tiny thrill just seeing it hard. I sort of helped him find my hole and jam it in me, pressed my palms on the small of his back, clamped his hips in a scissors grip, and held on. It was so strong, so quick. I came, with a gasp, trying to be quiet, but he came too, convulsing, crying out. I love it so much. Ooh, that feels good."

While she was talking I was holding her with my left arm all the way around her shoulders, my hand grasping her left breast and my right hand pressing hard on her mons, which is what prompted the, "Ooh that feels good", followed by "My you are hard aren't you, Sweetie?" as she grasped my own erection through my clothes.

"Was that it?" I wanted to know.

"We held each other for a while enjoying the afterglow, you know. He wiped us off with his hanky and we strolled back to the car hand-in-hand. Have I told you enough?"

"Did you do it any more that night?"

"No, we kissed good night when he I left him off at his apartment."

"OK, thanks," I said. "It's pretty exciting having my secretary tell me about her fornication with her boyfriend so as to satisfy the obsessions of her adulterous boss."

"I'm more interested in whether you're going to fuck me on the picnic table or here in the car! Feel how wet I am."

She had slid her skirt up above the tops of her thighs and spread them for me. Yes, she was wet!

We walked down to the picnic table. I asked her to kneel on the seat and bend forward over the table so we could do it dog-fashion. I could barely see the lovely flare of her ample hips as she kneeled, with her head cradled in her arms, her ass in the air. I couldn't actually see the split fig of her cunt between her thighs, but I could feel it with my seeking, caressing fingers. She was tumescent and slick. So delicious. I reared back to unzip my fly?- it's so awkward for men to have to do that when we're in such a hurry, especially when we're eager and hard, as I was. I entered her easily; she gave a little moan. As I plunged into her again and again I visualized us as actually looking like dogs copulating, and doing it with the reflexive speed that dogs do, animals in heat, finishing almost immediately, totally satiated. After I came, I just stayed there, holding her hips against me. I could tell she had come too, by the huge sighs. Pretty soon she said, with a small laugh, "The bench is killing my knees."

I helped her up and hugged her with my groin still pressed against her butt, my arms across her breasts.

"Thank-you again," I said. "That was marvelous. It gives me the feeling of being with you when you're with him. I love it while I hate it."

"I know. You're crazy." She patted me, "Just remember this is going to stop soon?-for sure. The day Fred and I are married, it's over."

"The fucking or the friendship."

"Just the fucking."

"But you'll be working for someone else then, and?-"

"Skip it!" She said, "of course, we can be friends, but I'm going to be faithful to Fred." She leaned against me and put her mouth on mine, salivating onto my lips and mouth?-a kiss of pure lust for me. And a thread of hope.

My wife and I went to her wedding. It was a gaudy affair. I could tell she was happy, feeling that by marrying Fred she had risen a few steps up the social ladder. She almost lived up to her vow to be faithful to Fred. We, my wife and I, Mary and Fred were often together at company parties, but always as couples. There were no meetings at all between her and me in the company offices. I had resigned myself to being shut off from her forever.

Eventually, however, the "ray of hope" I had glimpsed at our last coupling in the little park by her former home, flashed again. As couples, we had been on an afternoon paddle-wheel boat trip on the river. There was an open bar and a cafeteria-style lunch. I noticed Mary was imbibing freely, but thought nothing of it. However, when we debarked, and were saying good-night under dim lights at the dock, she came over to me to give her usual friendly hug, turned my head and shoulders away from the light, stuck her tongue in my mouth briefly, and gave me two tiny but unmistakable bumps with her pubes against mine. Wow! I thought. She said nothing. She walked away quickly, but when she reached her husband and took his arm, she looked back at me with a knowing smile. Neither my wife nor her husband gave any sign of noticing, but I felt a wave of heat stream through my genitals.

A week or so later, she called me during working hours from her home, saying that some new furniture had been delivered, needed placing, Fred was out of town, she had taken the day off, and would I come over and help her? Another sexual surge in my gut. Of course, I went.

When I arrived, there actually was some furniture lying around. She was in work-a-day attire, cotton dress, and with no make-up. She had her reddish hair pinned up. I could see her plain white panties and bra through her thin dress. My heart sank, as we started to lift, shove, and slide the furniture where she wanted it. By the time we finished, we were perspiring. She brought us ice-water. We sat on the new furniture and talked. No flirting at all from her. Just ordinary conversation. Finally, she mentioned she had bought a lot of new clothes since she married, would like to model some of them for me, would I like to see them? Another hot poker in my bowels. Yet no stirring of my cock-- the odds against anything happening still being high.

She said her clothes were upstairs "in their bedroom", but she didn't want me to come up for fear of the neighbors or visitors. She would change up there and walk out on "the landing" where I could view her. She scrambled upstairs, while I sat down on one of the new chairs to wait.

The house was a three-level. The living section, where I was sitting, was on the ground floor, a few steps up to the bedrooms, a few steps down to the basement. When she appeared at the top of the steps, and I walked over to look, her feet were about eye-high from me, almost exactly like a fashion-show runway.

At first, she modeled a few jackets, skirts and blouses. Somewhat boring. She soon switched to night clothes, a long silk gown, down to her ankles, a pair of PJs, and a Teddy. Less boring. Then underwear. It looked to me like Victoria's Secret things. High-riding panties, push-up bras. Her large tits and ass showed these off well?- slight delicious bulging of excess curves, which caused my cock to stir.

After the last of the underwear, she stood there for a second, perspiring, her skin glowing, her lips parted. "That's all of it," she said, "I'll be right down. Wait right there."

I waited. She took a while. When she appeared she had the Teddy back on, her hair was brushed, her face made up, smiling. It took me a second of scanning to see she was wearing no panties. She was naked under the Teddy. "Oh Sweet Jesus," I thought. There was that body I had screwed so many times, right in front of me. She stood at the top of the steps. I moved upward toward her. It seemed to be in slow motion. I got to the landing, kneeled down, pushed the Teddy aside and rammed my mouth against her red-haired cunt. I knew it would be wet and it was. I already knew what heaven it was to feel her ass under my hands, her pussy under my mouth. She moaned and began to undulate. She was usually a one orgasm girl but I hoped today would be different. As she convulsed, we were in danger of falling. I stayed in my kneeling position, with her standing, legs apart. I leaned my head back, holding onto her, and looked up into her eyes, begging "I've got to have you, Mary. For God's sake, let me. Just this one more time."

She said nothing, but pried my arms open, ran down the steps, and threw herself on one of the new divans. Sitting up in the middle of it, she spun around toward me with her legs spread, her pink flower beckoning. I quickly moved over to her, kneeled again, and, ever-so-slowly, thrust my rigid cock into her. I continued slowly, feeling every thrust throughout my body. I could tell she was about to come again. When she did, she yelled out, almost screaming. God. She was feeling this, too?-that it would be the last time for us.

After it was over I slid up onto the divan beside her and we sat together for a while, hugging, saying loving things to each other. Both of us meant them, I knew, but only for those few moments. At the end, Mary said, "You've got to go now. Fred will be home soon. I want to tell you that he's a good lover. I'm thankful to have him. I hope I can eventually get over you. I want to."

Sad to say, with that one last fuck, we did get over each other. With so many millions of the opposite sex in the world, why is it so hard to break away, even from an illicit affair?