I loved the absolute sluttiness of fucking a couple of guys I knew were in relationships elsewhere. Even as a submissive I like the power that gave me. They would really make sure they put in their best performance in case our paths crossed, or they were mentioned in despatches at some point in the future.
One guy was allegedly away with work, but instead spent the night fucking me within an inch of my life. We barely slept and making work by the skin of my teeth was only achieved by ditching my entire beauty regime and scraping my hair back and racing out the door still stretched out and soaking from the morning quickie we enjoyed. I work in the office at a school and found myself chatting to his ever so plain wife with her husbands’ cum literally pooling in my thong. So bad…
Mind you I was a notch worth winning. I may have been in my late 40’s, but I still have my 30-year- old, gym-sculptured body and all the usual preening and primping that a decent divorce could afford. Think model quality older woman. Yes, blonde haired, firm smaller-size boobs and an arse that I loved all made me definitely a head turner, and I was now in a place where I could enjoy and indulge the attention I got.
On Saturday last week my date was apparently some big-time earner in the civil service. Director level guy, Dan was physically a big fella — 6’4″ and broad to boot. I’m slim, but not skinny, but I don’t normally like someone who dwarfs my 5’6″ frame. But he lived reasonably near, and I couldn’t be arsed to travel for some company so a meet at the closest pub to me sounded ideal. It turned out we literally lived half a mile apart.
The date was average at best. He wasn’t especially generous, slow to top up glasses, not much class or worldliness, but he thought he was the bees’ knees. Arrogance wasn’t far from his top ‘quality’. He didn’t seem to make much effort to put a move on me, almost like he just expected it. Strange as he clearly quite liked the look of me and took every chance to touch me.
I put much of it down to being a six-figure earner. But it was a free meal and some company and so I hung in there, nodded and listened to his droning on about, well, mostly himself. My ears pricked up when he mentioned someone he had dated and lived with recently and for a number of years. The name rang the first bell. A few probing questions, ‘Did she have kids?’, ‘What did she do for a living?’ and lo and behold, I find myself sitting next to the ex of the woman my ex-husband was now living with! I had to know more.
They had moved straight in together once they hooked up, a respectful few months after our relationships had collapsed. They were the perfect bloody family. She was 15 years younger than my ex and they seemed a great match. I was pleased for our son, but inside I hated them for it — I knew I could have had it, but the marriage was wrecked years earlier and I never recovered from the death by a thousand cuts that it was.
My ex was a good man and had enjoyed an interesting life before we had married. I hadn’t. I’d had prudish views forced onto me by my family and felt I’d missed out somehow. I blamed him, even though it was nothing to do with him. Despite my looks, I’d had few lovers before I married and as time marched on resented his having sowed his wild oats when I hadn’t.
Mind you, in the two years since our split I must have slept with 30 or 40 men, from 21 to 51 years old, been fucked in every hole in every way you can think of, had small cocks and big cocks, hard ones and soft ones, had two guys at once, black and Asian guys and even a way out there night with a married couple that stretched my boundaries still further.
I digress. So now I’m interested. I’d heard from my ex that Dan had been an arrogant wanker and so it was proving. But the thought of fucking HER ex was too tempting. I thought honesty was the best policy and so confessed to my knowledge of him and our ex’s connection, although clearly I was short n details of what I knew. It was like someone flicked a switch in him…
Now he was so obviously intrigued. It didn’t take much for the bitterness towards my ex-husband ‘stealing’ (even though he hadn’t) his girlfriend to surface. And then the words that confirmed his status as described by my ex — an absolute arrogant big head — ‘I bet she misses this cock though’ and with that he took my hand and stuck it in his crotch — fuck, he wasn’t hard and yet he was clearly hung.
I almost instinctively began to gently rub it and asked, ‘So what was she like and what did she like to do with this big boy?’ Clearly this narcissist enjoyed the acknowledgment of his huge tool and began to spill the beans. I was getting wet.
‘She did whatever I wanted her to do — fucking begged for this of course — who wouldn’t? Quite the anal warrior she was. I loved bringing her down to her level- to make her lick my asshole and then I’d ream her out big time. It’s what the slut deserved’. Anal eh? My ex wasn’t badly hung, pretty average, but he loved the odd time I let him in there and always tried it on. No wonder they were happy if she was obliging…
Mind you I did wonder how this monster I was touching ever fitted up that passage…and then the waiters sat a group of people on the table right next to us. This conversation was far too risqué for other ears now. I suggested we went back to his for another drink and bill paid (half and half the tight bastard) we were soon back on the subject of his sexual exploits while making coffee in his kitchen.
‘Did you fuck her here in this house?’ I asked.
‘Just once, upstairs in the bed, christening the house — I think she just needed my big cock one more time’.
‘So do I get to see this big cock?’ I teased and started to free it. Shit a brick, it was a beauty of a thing. I was never a size queen, but a couple of kids and things were less tight nowadays, so big was now possible for me. It just hung there, semi-hard and yet still as big as anything I’d seen. We kissed and I began to fist his cock, trying to get it hard.
‘Come on then big boy, why don’t you fuck me exactly the way you did with her that time? In the same bed?’ I loved the thought of it, somehow taking her man and his monster cock – next time I had to see her, I’d know she was a willing ass-licker and anal slut — a delicious thought about the admittedly cute Little Miss Perfect family woman. I could imagine lying in her juices and his cum as we fell on the bed, clothes being shed and kisses more urgent. This was raw.
He wasn’t skilful. The kissing was average, the jabbing finger-fuck less than pleasant, but all that time his cock stayed down. I slid down the bed and began to suck that huge thing into my mouth, but it was uncomfortable and too big to do much with. He must have sensed my struggle and suddenly rolled his hips back and spread his raised legs.