I gasped as Frank’s thick member invaded my welcoming wetness. It just felt so good! At first, it was no different than Paul’s. Only Frank is longer and wider, so he kept going deeper in me until he found my cervix — spreading me open. I usually had no issues with Paul’s cock. It did its job — when he used it on me as I liked, that is. But Frank was what I needed, and he came through.
“A little harder,” I implored him.
Frank adjusted his intensity, but he was still guarded somewhat. In the past, he had fucked me ferociously when I had asked for it. But this was not then, and we both knew it. Later I would be glad he showed some restraint, but in that instant, I would have let him do more, pound me harder. The need was such I was not thinking straight.
“Do you have to be somewhere?” I asked as he fucked me.
And fucking me, he did as I leaned back on the desk, and he held my legs apart.
“Not anymore,” he replied in between strokes.
As I felt my first of many orgasms that hour, I was glad that Frank had not stopped to dissuade me with moral platitudes or conventional judgementalism. Instead, he gave me what I wanted and needed as a friend would. Both of us knew what this was. A purely sexual need fulfilled. Nothing more.
Frank and I had not seen each other sexually since that night before Paul and I became an item the previous school year. I had seen him walking between buildings and informed him of my future wedding plans. Frank had been happy for me, saying that at least one of us was with the person they loved.
The hour went by too quickly. And as was typical for us, Frank didn’t cum. By this point, I was no longer offended that he didn’t. But he was hard enough for me to cum again and again and gave me what I needed for the time being.
On the way home, I questioned my behavior. I had cheated on Paul. But I had been desperate, and he was unwilling to give me what I wanted. That night, Paul and I had sex again. Or at least, I tried to have sex as he wanted to do his slow and gentle thing.
“Damn it Paul! I won’t break,” I admonished him. “Don’t baby me.”
“Paula, I’m trying. I just can’t do what you ask.”
Slow, gentle sex was better than no sex. So we did it Paul’s way. Although I think he tried to be a little more forceful. But not by much. After he fell asleep, I furiously rubbed my clit and jammed my two fingers in my cunt until I came. And ten minutes later, I did so again. Paul never stirred.
After another gentle quickie, Paul went to work the following morning while I got ready for classes. On the way to classes, the fuck urge returned, and I knew then. Walking to Frank’s empty office, I walked past the room he was lecturing in. Then I left him a note telling him not to make plans for lunch – that I needed him again.
And that became my new schedule for the day. Evenings and mornings were for Paul and I. Lunchtime would be reserved for Frank to meet my needs. And that would be the arrangement until my last month of pregnancy. Frank would fuck me one last time the day before my water broke in the middle of the night. The night little Patty, Patricia Donnely was born. Our daughter.
***
After I gave birth, I was not in any shape or inclination to have sex. Strange how quickly that changed. I didn’t have postpartum depression as some moms do. At least there was that. And I didn’t want to breastfeed. It hurt my nipples too much, and using formula would be easier for Paul to feed the little munchkin when I was asleep. And I slept a lot. I mean a lot.
I could tell Paul was horny by the first month after Patty came to the world. At first, the needs of the baby and my body recuperating prevented me from helping him out. He eventually asked when I would be able to have sex again. I had been blowing him for a week, but apparently, that was not cutting it. To be honest, I was still not that much in the mood for sex and wasn’t giving him my best.
“I am not ready for fucking yet,” I replied, much to his disappointment.
Then I had an idea.
“The front office is closed for repairs, Paul,” I smirked. “But the back gate is available.”
I could see the wheels turning as he contemplated his options.
“Unless you just want some head.”
“OK, I guess we could try it. Have you done that before?”
I was surprised as that was the first time he had ever asked me about my sexual past.
“Would it be a problem if I said I had?” I replied. “I did suggest it some time ago.”
“Yeah, you did. I just thought….”
“Sorry, Paul,” I said, reaching out and embracing him. “I don’t have a single virgin hole to offer.”
He smirked at that.
“I’m not trying to judge you, Paula.”
But I wasn’t convinced. I knew the thinking of his preppy crowd. Women like how I had been were sluts and whores to them.
“Let me ask you something,” I replied. “The first night you and I had sex, you knew I was experienced and not a virgin. Didn’t you?”
Paul nodded silently.
“I wasn’t one of the virgins you deflowered in your preppy crowd, Paul. Were you disappointed?”
He seemed nervous at my knowledge of his sexcapades.
“You know about that?” he asked. “How?”
“Well, girls talk, Paul. And it was no rocket science confirming it. The preppy sorority girls you dated bragged about how you were gentle on their first time. How do you think you got so much traffic in your bed?”
His ego got the best of him as he smirked.
“Paula, I knew you were… experienced,” he said, looking away. “I just wondered what it would be like with….” He stopped.
“With a girl like me? Someone not as discriminating as your inexperienced conquests?”
“That was it at first, Paula. I mean, you came after me and all. But I had heard of you.”
“Well, Paul. You got to drive the used car. Why did you stick around?”
“Because I fell in love with you. And to be honest, I was tired of having to play teacher with these girls. Most of them are terrible at sex. If they give you any. Even after you pop their cherry, they cock-tease and make you earn it by doing things for them. It’s almost like prostitution.”
We laughed at that and started touching each other.
“Well, Paul, you got a few cherries. Not mine, but you won’t wonder what it’s like. But think of this. If you decide to make a delivery in the back office, I’ll be taking your virginity in a way. Think you can handle that?”
I knew we were in business from the eager look he gave me. And just like that, Paul became an ass man. At least for a while.
And not just any assman. In the real surprise of the evening, Paul did not just shed his aversion to anal sex. He also showed no signs of Madona Syndrome. Not in the least.
Being it was our first time, I wanted to make sure Paul was not turned off and not come back for seconds. So I took the time to have an enema to clean myself back there before we tried anything as I took a shower. Then I taught Paul the art of preparing a woman for anal with lube and fingers coaxing her rosebuds to relax and open.
Paul was apprehensive at first, but I persevered and helped him understand how anal play can be very satisfying for a woman. And also for him once he got inside. To dissuade his fears of it being messy, I explained how I had used an enema to make sure I was clean for him. I also had a condom for him to use if he felt the need. Paul thought about it as I was lubing his cock and decided to go bareback. I thought he would.