Lawfully wedded nymph
Don K. Hotey
CHAPTER ONE
I couldn't believe it-I was having my first affair!
It had begun so simply, so unexpectedly, that the sheer driving energy of events had scooped me up, and carried me along with it as if I were a mere pawn, with no control over my own destiny. I had been in a bar, having an innocent drink, waiting for a train to take me home, when all of a sudden, without knowing exactly how, for the first time in my life, I had gotten picked up by a tall, blonde-haired man.
And now I was alone with this strange man, a man I've known for less than an hour, and I was in his room with him: a twenty-eight year old woman, married eight years, and this handsome man I knew only as Adam was kissing me on the lips. And what was even stranger, even more disconcerting, was that I was kissing him back.
We were standing in the doorway of his room. Adam had just closed the door behind him, and the lights in the room weren't even switched on yet. Adam turned, took me in his arms, and pressed me back against the door. I let him, sliding my arms up his broad back, and I eagerly crushed his tall, hard body against my softness. His legs were pressed against my crotch, and I parted my thighs, pushing myself even harder against him.
'Oh, Jesus, Sally,' he moaned feverishly. 'My God, my God!'
His tongue snaked into my mouth in a hard, wet kiss, and I parted my lips to suck hi,s tongue deeply into my mouth. I could taste the lingering flavor of whisky on his breath, and it mingled subtilely, eroti-cally, with the warm, slippery moisture of his saliva. His lips were thick and soft, and he rolled them gently against my lips, plunging his spongy tongue in and out of my mouth, exploring the wet cavern of my lips and tongue with an urgency that betrayed bis excitement. I sucked hard on his tongue, almost as if I was trying to swallow it down my throat.
My head was spinning, partially from the two drinks I'd had in the bar, but mostly from the heady realization that for the first time in my married Me, I was making love to a man who was not my husband. The very suddenness of it, the complete absence of premeditation was enough to make my head feel as if it was floating three feet above my shoulders. It had begun so guiltlessly: Adam offered to buy me a drink. Then he asked me back to his table, a booth at the rear of the bar. I went with him, and before I knew it, he was sitting next to me, with his hands in my lap and his fingers under my skirt. A moment or two later, his zipper was opened, and I was fondling his erect cock under the protection of the table. He hadn't even kissed me or suggested what he was about to do. He simply dropped his hands to my thighs, massaged my cunt through my dress, then slipped his hand up my skirt. I didn't stop him, nor did I want to. My excitement was so profound, so shattering, that there was no way I could have stopped him. It seemed fated.
Now we were in his room, and Adam was kissing me. My train, the train that would have taken me home to Peter, my husband, the train that I had been waiting for when first I went into that bar, had long since gone.
I was standing on my toes, stretching up, and I kissed Adam with my wet, pressing mouth. I slid my tongue over the lump of his thrusting tongue, and pushed it back into his mouth. I ran the tip of my tongue frantically around his lips, over his teeth, then I plunged deeply into his mouth. I felt h'ke moaning, but there was no space to-our lips were sealed together, one atop the other, fixed with our burning, mutual passion. His body crushed me into the door, flattening me under his pressing weight, and I could feel every ridge, every indentation of the door as it cut into my back.
I parted my legs even more widely, and Adam pushed his thighs between them. His cock was still erect, or erect again, and I could feel it laying against the mound of my cunt. Even through the many layers of our clothing, the long, hard heat of his cock baked down into my cunt. My clit was throbbing and my% panties were wet. The crotch-piece was sticking to my damp flesh h'ke a second skin. I pushed back against Adam, and pressed my wet cunt against the thickness of his humping cock.
Adam broke the kiss off. 'Oh, God, Sally,' he whispered. He stabbed his tongue into my ear and swabbed it wetly until he sent shivers of burning pleasure down into my body. 'Oh, my God. I want you so bad. From the moment I saw you, Sally, I wanted to have you. It's crazy.'
My breasts were aching; my nipples felt as if they were going to explode. My bra was like silken sandpaper against my tender flesh, and each time my swollen nipples brushed against it, I trembled with another sudden swell of sexual excitement.
'I want you, too, Adam,' I whispered back. My eyes were closed, and I could feel sweat running down my back and down the insides of my thighs. 'I want you, too.'
And I did. I wanted Adam more than anything I've ever wanted in my life. He was a stranger to me, a man I've never seen before, and probably, after tonight, a man I would never see again. Yet that seemed to make it all the more exciting: two strangers, attracted like animals, desperately fucking away in the middle of the night.
What a way to be initiated into extramarital sex, I thought. Not that I haven't wanted other men since Peter and I married, for I have, and I've even had the opportunity to go to bed with some of those men. But I never did take that final step that would set it all in motion. Perhaps I had too much time to think about it. Thinking about it gave me cold feet.
But this, with Adam, had been different. It had been spontaneous. It had happened so quickly, I hadn't even had time enough to think of an excuse to give Peter as to why I would be so late in getting home tonight.
Adam slid his hand up the front of my body and cupped one breast through my dress. I moaned at the contact, and I felt my body going limp. His fingers squeezed into my burning flesh, and a rush of white-hot pleasure radiated down into my groin. Automatically, I tilted my hips up, and pressed my cunt even more tightly against the throbbing hardness of his cock.
'I have to lay down,' I said. My nipples seemed to be swelling with so much pleasure that they were beginning to ache. My flesh was so aroused, so sensitive, that my clothing was abrasive and irritating, the way it feels when you have a fever, and your body is burning up. 'Please,' I said again. 'I feel weak.'
Adam covered over my objections' with his lips, and my protest was swallowed into the heat of. his mouth. His tongue slid wetly between my lips, and I found myself drinking down his saliva as if it were alcohol. My head began to spin again.
Suddenly Adam shifted his body, and he slid his hand, and then arm, under my knees. His other arm tightened around my shoulder, and he lifted me quickly. Our lips were still locked together in a passionate loss, and he carried me across the darkened room, literally sweeping me off my feet. The grip of his hand on my legs pressed my thighs together, and my cunt felt swollen and thick between them. The whole crotchpiece of my panties was so wet, I thought for a moment that I had peed in my pants.
Adam carried me to a sofa, then placed me down with such ease that I felt like a puppet in his hands. His mouth was still pressed against my lips, and our tongues were dueling wetly in the slippery space between. It felt good to have something solid under me, and I leaned back against the supporting cushions of the sofa. I wrapped my arms around Adam's neck and pressed our mouths so tightly together that I tasted blood mixed in with the saliva. As he was kissing me, Adam was leaning forward, Q holding onto the sofa for support, and he climbed onto the cushions, next to me. He was on his hands and knees, kissing my mouth, kneeling next to me. His hand had returned to my breast, and he squeezed into it with his hard, clutching fingers. I kissed back at him, then opened my thighs, and humped my wet cunt against the sticky silk of my panties, wishing in frustration that his cock was back between my legs, as it had been when we were standing.
Adam's fingers worked expertly on my breast: he squeezed it in and out, then pressed his palm flat against the swollen orb, and pushed down. He kneaded it, and caressed it, teased it, and pinched the nipple through the material, arousing it until I felt as if I was going to scream from the excitement. Then, just at that point, he moved his hand away from my breast, and I did cry out, in dissappoint-ment, even though I knew where he was going.
His hand came up to my neck, and he began to nimbly work his fingers on the buttons of my dress. I was
