Will & Terri - Lube Job

Info Adam Gunn
14 Oct. '17
Will & Terri - Lube Job

This is a Will & Terri story, the 2nd installment. It can be read without reading the previous stories, in fact the stories will not even be published chronologically.

In order, the stories will be  
    1) Full Caribbean Moon and it’s sequel, Part II  
    2) Lube Job  
    3) Il Valentino Italiano  
    4) Expose  
    5) The Week Away  
    6) Requited Lust  
    7) Tuscan Days  
    8) The Author

As of this writing, some are completed, others are yet to be finished. How often I publish a story in this series depends upon reader interest. If you’d like to read more about this couple, let me know by leaving a comment or private messaging me. My email address is adamgunnstories@gmail.com

 

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Terri observed the temporary boost to their sex life seemed to be waning. 

Five weeks previously, after years of discussion, fantasizing and plotting — mainly on the part of her husband, Will — she had given her body to a gentleman to do with as he would. At a Caribbean resort, she’d let a complete stranger by the name of Jonathan dance with her. That had led, two hours later, to being a naked guest in his room. Will had understood the flirting, approved of it, encouraged her.

After the two nights of passion with Jonathan came to an end, surprising results ensued. Will was more in love with her than ever, bringing her flowers, lingerie and gifts for no reason. The marital sex in the following weeks was more fervent. Terri, remembering the way Jonathan desired her and took her, had new confidence in love-making with her husband. At one point on the second night, Jonathan had taken a few minutes to massage her feet; at her urging, Will now performed that erotic service for her. 

The couple had discussed the encounter relentlessly, until further memoirs were lacking in revelation. Will understood completely how Jonathan’s touches had enflamed Terri, how that first kiss had been unexpected, the contrasting ambiance of the stranger’s penis filling her vagina. For her part, Terri comprehended the angst that filled Will’s brain as he waited in the hotel room for her to return, thought she understood just why he had very little jealousy in his soul.

As a result, the remembrance of her infidelity no longer made Will harder or incited Terri to new highs. One night as her husband kneeled below her as she was on her back, stretching one of her legs over a shoulder, the other straight behind him, she remembered how a man from her youth particularly enjoyed that position, she elicited a fantastic orgasm from her body. Will noticed of course, and as they cooled afterwards he asked, “Thinking of Jonathan?”

“No, somebody else, long ago.”

“Tell me,” he lovingly demanded.

She gazed at the candle burning on the end table, and commenced her recollection . . .

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Paul had been a year ahead of her ever since she’d entered the first grade. She’d played in his sandbox, he’d come to the first ‘cocktail’ party she’d ever hosted back in high-school. While the discs spun on the record player in her room she hoped he’d ask her to a dance, or even the prom, but instead he took up with Julie, and broke her heart.

When she went off to the small state college there he was, a finance major while she studied English and Italian. Every once in awhile they’d bump into each other on campus.  One time when Julie was back in Pittsburgh for the weekend he even took her to a movie, then treated her to pie at the diner. When he returned her to the dormitory, she thought he wanted to kiss her and she began rubbing her fingers through his blond hair, but they were disrupted by one of her girlfriends passing in the hallway. When she heard he’d married Julie soon after his graduation, she wasn’t surprised, but she was disappointed she hadn’t even received an invitation.

In due time, Terri graduated and was hired as a language teacher in the district she’d rooted against in high-school football games. She dated men who asked her out, occasionally sleeping with them, waiting for her white knight to show up on the doorstep.

One summer’s morning she was driving her retired parents to the Amtrak station for their tri-annual trip to Las Vegas when her daddy asked her, “Pumpkin, would you mind taking the car to the dealership for an oil-change and lube job while we’re gone? I meant to do it yesterday, but . . .” 

She was trapped in the dingy room waiting for the sedan to be finished, leafing through magazines published months before when she was joyfully surprised to be greeted by, “Terri! I haven’t seen you in years!” Her heart skipped a bit of a beat to see Paul with his light hair and subtle freckles, the fantasy lover of her youth, standing before her. Before they’d been chatting five minutes they were interrupted by the mechanic delivering her keys, then a discussion telling Paul he would probably have to wait four or five hours. A soft curse came from his lips, a complaint he’d have to waste his afternoon, but then the idea occurred to him that he might catch up with his childhood playmate, and invited her to lunch, providing she drove.

Over the sandwich and salad, she told him first about her life, how she loved the intensity of her high school students, how her parents were enjoying their retirement, and, to a pointed question, no, she wasn’t seeing anyone. For his part, he revealed his ascendancy as a banker, how he played softball Monday and Thursday evenings, and, in response to an arrow that Terri slung his way, told her that, yes, Julie was fine; but the way he phrased it and the dullness of his eyes let Terri know everything was not, indeed, fine.

The subject turned to reminisce, and they relived the days of tag in the backyard, catching lightning bugs in jars, and the romance of youth.  “I don’t know why I didn’t try harder to date you back then,” Paul confessed, making her feel warm and beautiful. As the meal concluded with coffee, she blurted she needed to visit her parent’s house to take in the mail and water the plants. When he asked if he could accompany her – he had nothing else to do, he’d enjoy seeing the scene of so many happy memories – she saw no reason not to let him come along.

As she puttered, he wandered through the cottage, wondering at the photographs of her on the wall, remembering the parties of their childhood friends.  In the dank basement playroom – he’d followed her down as she fiddled – she suddenly found herself surrounded by his arms, and she tilted her face to accept the kiss. Quickly, however, she broke it off, not because she didn’t want it to continue, but because, as she proclaimed, he was after all a married man. He accepted the rebuff gracefully, told her sadly he understood, and released her.

They ascended the stairs and she returned to her chores in the kitchen. For his part, he closed the bathroom door behind him, attempting to avoid further embarrassment. As she continued with her work, she found her face flushed, her heart beating rapidly. When she heard the bathroom door swing open, she prayed he wouldn’t come to her – she wasn’t sure she’d be strong enough to resist again. Luckily, she didn’t hear his footsteps behind her, and then she caught the strains of the rock music of her teenage years emanate from the record player in her old bedroom.

“Oh, I love the Eagles!” she called and when she went to join him, a glass of lemonade in her hand, she found him seated on the floor leafing through the record albums of her youth. She sat beside him, recalling happy moments marked by popular songs of the time, and when he reached over her to retrieve a record, they were both electrified with desire. The passion came upon them rapidly, in less than five minutes they were naked and he was inside her as she knelt on her childhood bed. He was relentless in his ardor, placing her in a multitude of positions, making her pant and scream, until at last he released inside of her, joyfully mingling their juices. 

Further kisses followed, and without covering their nudity they played the rock and roll of their youths.

In time to return to the auto dealership, they dressed and she made the bed and disposed of the sopping Kleenex so her mother would never know what had transpired in that room, the first time Terri had ever made love in her parent’s house. When she dropped Paul at the shop, he didn’t try to kiss her – someone might view them – but he did ask if she would see him again. She wondered if it would be wise, but he ignored her protests and promised he’d call her.

And, surprisingly, he did call, and one evening when he told Julie he was working late he brought two servings of spaghetti and a bottle of wine to her bachelorette pad, and they made uninhibited love until he told her he needed to go home, lest his wife suspect.

For twenty-three weeks they shared their bodies and a bit of their minds. When she told her best friend about the affair, she also revealed her fears he would never leave his wife, that the romance was doomed to failure. Even though she and Paul both spoke of love during the furtive moments together, one night after one last fantastic bout of fervor he tearfully confessed Julie was pregnant, that he was unhappy but he needed to end the relationship. He cried, but Terri didn’t. Not then. But she weeped for weeks afterward.

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As the flicker of the candle illuminated his wife’s beautiful face, Will asked, “And you never saw him again?”

“No. He called a couple of times, trying to get together, but I wouldn’t let him come back.”

“Did you want him to?”

“Of course I did,” Terri explained. “Until I met you, it was the best sex of my life. But I knew that with his wife, it was just temporary for him, so I had to let him go.”

“I’m glad you did,” Will said. “Otherwise, you might not have gone out with me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Terri murmured, and before too long soft breaths indicated she was sleeping.

 

Weeks later, Terri was taking a late night bath – something she often did when she was desirous of her man – when Will entered the bathroom.  “Want your back scrubbed?” he offered.

“Sure,” she accepted.

After the shoulders were washed, Will moved to her front, playing with the globes of her bosom, and then his hand dropped down between her legs and his finger caught at her clitoris. She laid back in the warm water and let Will have his way with her. As she was well on the way to her first orgasm of the evening, Will suggested, “Pretend it’s not me, that it’s some other man.”

Without speaking, Terri entered the playland they often visited. Again she heard Will’s voice, “Describe the man you’re with.”

She thought for a moment. “He’s taller than you, blond. He has the most incredible long fingers.”

“Is it Paul?”

“Do you want it to be Paul?” she asked, and sensing his nod, she agreed, “Yes, it’s Paul.” 

For the next hour they played the game, and ‘Paul’ had her once again, this time in the boudoir of the Victorian home she shared with her husband. As Terri confessed how she’d love to make love to her former paramour again, her husband acted the part of her worshiper.

Afterwards they cuddled, and Will asked, as he always did, “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Of course I am. You were fantastic tonight.”

“So were you,” he agreed. “You liked pretending you were with Paul, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted, a little shyly. “After I told you about him the other day, I got to thinking about him again.”

“I’ve been thinking, too.”

“Yessss?” Terri hissed. Sometimes, it was a good idea when Will was thinking; other times it wasn’t.

“Would you like to really to be with Paul again?”

“I don’t know,” she cautiously avoided. “Maybe.”

“Why not?” Will gently demanded.

“Well,” Terri began, “It was so long ago. Maybe he’s changed. Probably, he wouldn’t want me – I’m not as pretty as I was then. And besides, he’s probably still married.”

“You’re married, now, too,” Will reminded her. “As for the rest, I’m sure he’d still be attracted to you. You’re still very, very sexy, you know. And you’ll never know whether you’d still want him until you meet him.”

Terri considered it for a moment. “I wouldn’t even know how to find him, anyway.”

“I’ve already figured that one out.  I’ve got his home phone number for you; he still lives in Penn Hills, hasn’t moved in all these years.  And he’s still at the same bank.”

“Really?” Terri thought about it for a few moments. “You mean, you’d like me to make love to him again?  Like I did with Jonathan?”

“If you want to. Why don’t you call him up one of these days, invite him to drinks.  If it works, fine. If not . . .”

“Let me think about it,” Terri balked.  And again she fell asleep in the arms of her real lover, her husband.

 

For three months she waffled about calling the telephone number Will had given her. She just wasn’t sure if this was really a good idea. Will was proposing she take another lover. This had been a part of their fantasy life for years, and yes, she’d given into the idea once, on a Caribbean island steeped in romanticism and alcohol. It had worked out well, but now she was home, in the reality of life. It could easily grow into an affair. When she brought this to Will, he simply pooh-poohed it, “So what if it does? We’ll still love each other, we won’t divorce over it or anything. Don’t you believe someone could love more than one person?”

Even when she embraced the idea of giving into Will’s persistent entreaties to ‘just give him a call; see what happens,’ the first four times she tried to dial his work number her hand dropped the receiver before she even heard the ring. 

The fifth time, she hung in there until she heard the voice of the answering machine say, “Hello, this is Paul Herbert of First Bank . . .” but she declined to leave a message. The next evening, after her classroom had been deserted by the students and most of the other teachers had gone home, she steeled herself for the inevitable, and tried again. And once more, she almost hung up, but the call was answered quickly, and she heard his voice, “Hi, Paul here.”

For seconds she knew not what to say, and again she heard his voice, “Hello?”

“Oh, hello.  Paul? This is Terri Neblett.”  There was no response; this was turning bad. “I mean, Terri Selvaggio, from high school.  Do you remember me?”  What an idiot she was!  How could he have known her married name?

But the response was warm, overwhelming. “Terri! Boy, it’s great to hear your voice.  It’s been what, twenty-five years?”

“Twenty-eight, actually.” If only he knew how one night she’d sat down and nervously calculated the time, almost to the minutes and seconds. “How are you?”

“Just great.  And you?”

“Fine, just fine.” The conversation dragged through a little chit-chat, he unsure in the purpose of the call, she timid to make her request.

“So, Terri, what can I do for you?” She thought perhaps he thought she needed a loan, or wanted to open an account.

She took a deep breath, and decided to go for it. “I’ve been thinking about you lately, that’s all.  I was wondering if you’d like to get together for a drink sometime?”

“You know, that would be so great,” he enthusiastically responded. “I’ve never quite forgotten about you, you know.” The deal was struck, and they decided upon the details of the rendevouz, a dinner at the restaurant everyone had gone to on their prom night.

On the Wednesday of the date Terri skipped out of her school earlier than normal, heading for home and a shower. She  had discussed the evening with Will, he’d suggested she wear a blouse that displayed copious cleavage, she instead opted for a more modest dress. She drove to the town of her high school, to the restaurant where the pre-prom dinner had been so many years ago. 

Her first glance at Paul didn’t give her the romantic high she was hoping for. A pound for each of the twenty-eight years had been added to the frame - he wasn’t exactly fat, but you wouldn’t use the word svelte, either. On the other hand, his suit seemed well tailored, the ivory shirt and striped tie were clean-cut, he still had a beautiful head of hair, even if the blond had morphed into a hard grey. “Oh, you haven’t changed a bit,” Paul lied as he rose to greet her.

“And you’re still handsome,” she stretched. They sat across from each other in a booth, appetizers and drinks were ordered, they began to catch up. “Oh, two kids? Yeah, me too. Here, let me show you a picture.” . . . “Were you at the 25th reunion? I couldn’t make it.” . . . “Barbara? Oh, I heard she headed off to California, haven’t heard from her in years.”

Then, Paul admitted, “Julie left me, oh, must be six years now. When Jason was a senior in high school. Probably for the best, we’d both had enough of each other. She invited me to her wedding a couple years back, I sent a card with a check. You?”

She waved her wedding ring. “Married a really sweet man, Will, we’re very happy.” The conversation continued, quite easily, through another round. 

“Do you remember the time I met you at the car repair shop?” Paul asked.

“Of course. And the rest of the afternoon. I had a wonderful time, Paul, for the next few months. For a long time, I was a little heartbroken. We were young, of course, and I didn’t really understand our relationship; I thought maybe you’d leave Julie.”

“I know. Believe me, I thought about it. I made a mistake, I should have. We’ve always seemed like soul-mates, haven’t we?”

“Back then, yes.” 

Paul paid the tab, wouldn’t think of splitting it, and they left the restaurant. The late-summer evening was warm, the sun was just a few degrees from drooping behind the hills, Terri accepted the invitation to walk a few blocks to the park by the river. As they sat on a bench overlooking the boats gayly motoring past them, Paul began his sales pitch, the one Terri had been hoping for. “You remember, when we had our affair? Perhaps it’s wrong of me to say this, but how we made love together was the best of my life.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“No, it seemed we fit together so well. Julie and I were never like that.”

“I remember it as a special time, too.” She felt his arm around her shoulder, wondered if she should push it away but decided not to. “Tell me, do you have any girlfriends now?”

“One woman, we get together every now and then. I wouldn’t call it a relationship.”

“Would she?”

“Not really. We’ve talked about taking it to the next level, but she’s a widow, only three years, and her son still lives with her. We go to a movie or a play every once in awhile, and after that . . .” Terri didn’t have to imagine very hard what ‘after that’ meant. “She’s told me if I find anybody else, it wouldn’t be a problem . . . I’d like to see you again.”

At that, Paul’s hand, the one that wasn’t behind her back, lightly patted her knee. Surprisingly, Terri felt her reaction cover her body. If they weren’t in a public place, it’s possible she would have turned to him, they might have kissed. Terri would have liked that. And, had the kiss been as engaging as she remembered from so long ago, had Paul suggested a trip to a hotel or his home, she thought she might accept. But the situation never arose, for it was a public place and she did remember she was a happily married woman.

To his question about getting together once more, she gave a diffident reply. “I don’t know, Paul. I’m enjoying tonight, I’m glad we got together. I’d like you to be my friend.” In that statement was she being oblique, Paul wondered. Was she suggesting a resumption of an affair was possible? He wanted her, certainly, and he didn’t much care she was wed to another man.

“We can be friends, Terri. Whatever you want. Tell you what, why don’t you come over to my house next week. I’ll cook you dinner. Remember the stew my mother used to make, the one based on her grandmother’s french recipe? I have it, I’m pretty good at it. Why don’t you come over next week, let me make it for you.”

Terri understood the implication. There would be this marvelous stew she remembered from her teen aged years, a bottle of wine, or two, and then Paul would try to kiss her. Did she want that? Even though Will had told her he wouldn’t mind, if it would make her happy, was this something that was wise? “Let me think about it,” she dodged.

They walked back to the cars, Paul opened her door, a gentlemanly move, she rewarded him with a cool hug, a dry kiss on the cheek. On the drive home, she considered her reactions, her wishes and needs, what she was going to tell Will, who was certainly going to grill her.

Did she want to spend an hour or two in bed with Paul? That was an easy one — her body had reacted when Paul touched her, she recalled how it had reacted those decades ago, she was certain if she let him she’d react again. She remembered being with Jonathan, how the naughtiness of the situation had given a spice to their love-making. Yes, she’d enjoy the physical aspect of hanky-panky with Paul.

But what about the after? Would he expect an affair? Did she want an affair? Jonathan hadn’t been an affair, when he left the resort it was over. With Paul it certainly wouldn’t be that clean-cut. She remembered the hurt that had followed her romance. How she’d cried and been depressed for weeks following, how her girlfriends took pity upon her, tried to cheer her. In no way did she want a repeat of that!

She was terribly keyed up when she got home. Will was waiting for her, curious about the encounter. “We just had drinks, small plates. A lot of talk. No, I’m not hungry. But there is something I want, take me to bed.”

She was the aggressor with her husband, doing things to him her body was insisting she wanted to do with Paul. She had Will suck vigorously on her nipples and clit, she wildly brought him nearly to culmination with her mouth, when they linked in cowgirl she touched herself, rode him frenetically, came unrestrainedly. After forty minutes of love-making, more time than the last three sessions all together, she finally consented to answer her husband’s curiosity about the date with her former lover. “No, we didn’t do anything, just ate and then took a walk to the river. Yes, he made a move on me, put his arm around my shoulder, touched my knee; I didn’t touch him back. Of course he aroused me, what the hell do you think I’ve been taking care of? But I’m not sure it would be a good idea for me to take it any further. Why? Well, what if it turns out I wind up loving him? I love you too much to let that happen. Or what if he hurts me again? What then?”

Will tried to reason with her. “I know you love me. This isn’t about love, it’s about lust, just about having some fun. If you start to get in too deep, I’ll be able to see that, I’ll tell you to stop. You’ve got me, how could you get hurt?” As she drifted off to sleep, Terri knew he was right, but still wasn’t sure about what, if anything, she was going to do.

Over the next week, she contemplated her desires, her worries, her options. Other than accepting her increased sex drive and satisfying her as necessary — a most pleasant duty — Will didn’t try to influence her. In this regard he was a very wise husband. He knew it was her body, and although he was more than willing to share it with Paul, he knew any action had to be her decision.

It was a voicemail on her cell phone twelve days after the dinner that settled it. ‘Hey, Paul here. Just wondering if you were ever going to take me up on my offer. I stopped down at the old butcher’s store, he’s got some wonderful lamb in stock, should I buy a pound? Give me a call.’

Two hours after she heard the voicemail, she rang him up, knowing what her answer, at least for stew, was going to be. “Hi, Paul,” she said when he answered. “Got your message . . . Yes, I’d like to taste it again . . . No, Friday night won’t work for me, Will and I are going to the concert with another couple . . . Let me look . . . I don’t have anything on my schedule for Tuesday night, is that good for you? . . . Great, can I bring anything? Wine? . . . Okay, see you then.”

It was time to break the news to Will. He was sitting in the living room, toying with his laptop. “Honey, your bowling starts Tuesday night, doesn’t it?”

“Yep, just like always.” He’d been in the guy’s league for nearly a decade now.

“Well, would you mind if I went over to Paul’s? He’s going to make me stew.” 

Will laughed. “Make you stew? Is that what we’re calling sex now?”

“No, really, his mother used to make this wonderful French stew when I was a teenager, Paul says he knows how to do it.”

“Of course I don’t mind. Do you think . . .”

“I really don’t know. We’ve talked about this. There’s a part of me that wants to, but I’m uneasy about it, too.”

He held her in his arms. “I know. Just be sure you know if anything does happen, I’ll be okay with it.”

“Thanks. I love you.”

 

She parked her car in Paul’s driveway. The home was a small two story bungalow near the top of a hill at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was warm, hot actually, in the late August evening. Terri saw Paul waiting for him at the door, as he opened it for her she felt the rush of air-conditioning. The smell was succulent, meats and vegetables that had been simmering for hours. Terri accepted a kiss on the cheek, she let it be a little warmer than the last, a promise of something, or nothing.

“You look wonderful,” Paul announced. Did she, she wondered, for she’d dressed casually, noncommittally. Culottes ended below the knee, a sleeveless blouse with a high neck, sensible pumps. “You do, too,” she replied, handing him a bottle of Bordeaux. He wore shorts and a polo shirt. 

He opened the wine, poured two glasses and offered a tour of the house. On the upper floor a small living room, rudimentary kitchen, a master bedroom with full bath. On the lower floor two more tiny bedrooms, a toilet into which a shower had been squeezed, a garage. He took her out into the back yard, sloping away from the house and to the left, trees encircled the lot on two sides, bushes masked neighboring houses. “Nice place,” Terri said, “How long have you lived here?”

“We bought it when Julie was pregnant the first time. We thought about buying something bigger a few times, but it just never made sense to move. The guys hated it when they were teenagers, it really was too small, but we made it work. When we divorced, Julie didn’t want it so I kept it. It’s the right size for a bachelor.” There were still traces of feminine decoration, a pastel border around the kitchen, floral wallpaper in the bedroom. 

The stew was fifteen minutes from being ready, they sat in the living room on the couch, not too close, and chatted. “You’re a language teacher?”

“Yes, Italian and French. Every once in awhile I teach a class in English literature or something.”

“And you still love Italy? I remembered when your folks took you the summer before my senior year.”

“Absolutely. I went back for a whole month during college with a girlfriend, had a ball.” This brought the memory of a boy in a Umbrian hill town, but of course she couldn’t tell Paul about that. “And you, you’ve been at the bank for your whole career?”

“They’ve treated me well. I went from teller to branch manager and then downtown. I made it up to executive vice-president, I expect I’ll retire in a decade unless a bigger bank swallows us up and I find I’m cannon fodder.” 

They ate at the kitchen table. The stew was delectable, served with warm slices of baguette, just as Terri remembered. Except of course, for the glass of deep red wine, something Mrs. Herbert never would have allowed. The talk continued, became even a little more intimate. “Do you remember,” Paul asked, “when we went to the Arts Festival and got rained on?”

“Oh, yes. We were soaked.” She then remembered how they drove to Terri’s apartment, hung the clothes to dry and then spent two lovely hours in her bed. She was sure Paul recollected that too. 

Terri finished her stew, let Paul talk her into another half-bowl, accepted graciously when he said he’d send her home with leftovers, didn’t object when he poured the rest of the wine into her glass. She sat as he cleaned up a bit, putting the dishes in the washer. “It’s beautiful in the backyard,” he suggested. And off they went, she was impressed by the wooded darkness, the sparks of fireflies, the comfiness of the padded glider. 

Terri knew what was coming. She waited for Paul’s first move, an arm around her shoulders. And now she felt the crux approaching; she still hadn’t made up her mind about what the result of the evening would be. If she was going to stop him, the time was now. Paul pulled her to his side, she complied but gave him no other boon, twisting her back slightly, so it was against his side. She let him talk about destinations he thought of as romantic, warm resorts, New Orleans, the California coast.

Their glasses were empty, Paul proposed opening another bottle. Perhaps this was the moment Terri caved, looking back at it, but in her mind she only thought a bit more wine might be nice. Yet as Paul strode back into the house to uncork the liquid, Terri realized her mouth was dry, her heart pounded a little loudly, her skin sensed the breeze easily. When Paul returned, she resumed her position, her back against his chest, but something seemed more intimate, more poetic. “Did Julie ever find out about our affair?”

“No, I don’t think so. I certainly never told her. Maybe she suspected. She did find out about another one I had years later. There was quite a row about it. And I discovered she had a lover about five years before we divorced. Did you ever have an affair?”

“No, I’ve never had one.” A little white lie, Jonathan hadn’t been an affair, she rationalized. 

“Would you like to have one?” 

Playfully, “Why? Are you offering?”

Paul was looking for an opening just like this, leapt for the goal. He shifted, turned her towards him, lifted her face, kissed her. She didn’t struggle, assisted him in fact, opening her lips to his advance, turning her chest further so her breasts were pressed into him. Paul was eager, he advanced rapidly, his hand rubbing her body, rising higher and higher. Terri understood the dynamic, the moment she’d been anticipating was transpiring. She had to make a choice, up until that very moment she’d felt she’d kept her options open. For a split second she wasn’t sure just which path she’d take, and then she held Paul’s hand, raised it to her breast. 

“I’ve waited a long time for this, Terri, I didn’t know if it would ever happen again.”

“I know.”

Paul continued his impetus, taking charge of the encounter, hurrying so she wouldn’t suddenly think better and call a stop. His hand was prowling both her globes, he knew the thickness of the bra she wore, he understood any attempt to remove it would mean a delay which might bring her to a state of refusal. He pulled her blouse out from her waistband, felt the smooth skin of her belly, raised his hand until he felt the cotton of her brassiere, slipped a finger underneath, flipped it up. Her nipple sprang to his fingers, when he gently pressed it he heard her gasp.

The fact that she continued to press against him, that she still hotly kissed him emboldened him. He let his hand sink into the rayon of her culottes, his fingers touched her panties. Still, she didn’t protest so he went further, when he reached her groin he sensed her shift, just slightly, he knew by moving one leg from the other she was giving him license. He shifted the elastic between her legs to the side, placed a finger at her opening. She was wet! Just before he penetrated a finger, she said, “Don’t you think we’d be more comfortable in the bedroom?”

He led her though the kitchen and down the hall. “Do you remember how you used to tease me by stripping?”

“Not tonight, Paul,” she denied, “my underwear isn’t sexy enough.” She sat on the bed, pulled the blouse over her head, unwrapped the bra, pulled her trousers and panties down in one swoop. Standing a few feet away, he quickly unclothed as well, throwing his garments to the floor. In a moment he stood before her naked, his erection already in full rage. “Come here,” she begged, and when he approached she touched his rod, bent her mouth to take it in. While she sucked on him, tasting his precum, he hefted her breast, wondering that the years hadn’t caused them to sag, at least not much, they were still heavy and ripe. When he’d had enough of her gentle sucks he pushed her onto the bed, laid down beside her. She let him kiss her, suck on her nipples, finger inside of her. She was not yet completely aroused, her mind continued to protest against her adultery, much more serious with Paul than it had been with Jonathan, but her body had no such compunctions. Her sheath was dripping, her nipples were sensitive, and Paul understood the signal. He began to climb on top of her, she simply commanded, “You need a condom.”

“You didn’t use to make me wear one.”

“That was before HIV.”

A couple of moments were wasted as he reached into a drawer and rolled the plastic on, then Terri reached her arms out to him, he positioned her on her back. He knelt between her legs on his knees, stretching her left leg out to his side, her right leg up to his shoulder. Ah, he remembered, one of her favorites, he had taught it to her as a youth. He then crept closer, until his penis approached her labia. They both fathomed the first penetration, he felt the warmth surround him, she sensed her vagina stretching to accept him. He settled into a rhythm of twelve strokes per minute, she moved her hips to his tempo, raising herself to meet him, at times they’d stop to kiss and fondle. Eventually he sank onto her in missionary or variants of it, they would shift their legs to provide slightly different sensations, at one point she had her thighs pressed tightly while his legs were outside of hers, but at no point did her rump leave the mattress, he was always centered above her.

Eventually, it took more than fifteen minutes, her mind dispensed with the concept that this might not be the best idea, she opened her legs as wide as possible, letting him bury to her cervix, she felt her toes curl, the breath stop. “Now, baby,” she cried, and to her demand he speeded, the friction within her crevice inflamed her, her mind turned to colors of pastels. Obviously, in this state of carnality he had to discharge, and moments after she’d gasped the last bit of her orgasm his semen spewed. She held to him as he released, moaning and cooing to him, letting him have every bit of wonder he could.

Even though the lust was satisfied, neither wanted to disconnect. He stayed on top of her, resting most of his weight on elbows and knees, they kissed, stroked each other’s face, delighted in the pressure of their bellies against each other. It took more than ten minutes, in which many more thrusts of genitals were attempted, before Paul’s durability shrunk to a useless state. With regret, he gingerly crawled down. 

“Oh, look at the time,” she cried, “It’s almost ten o’clock!”

“Why don’t you stay?” Paul tempted.

“I wish I could. But what would I tell Will? He’s probably already wondering where I am, I’m going to have to think up some excuse. Tell me, is it hard having an affair? You’ve had your share, this is my first one.”

“It depends. You just have to be careful, that’s all.”

“Phone calls, emails?”

“Stuff like that. Are you planning on seeing me again?” The question, was this the only time, or?

“I’d like to,” the married woman admitted. “You know, I didn’t know I was going to sleep with you when I got here tonight.”

“But you wanted to,” Paul laughed.

“Yes, that I’ll confess. I’m still not sure it’s a good thing, though.”

“I want to see you again. I’ll make sure it’s a good thing. You won’t have to worry about me outing you. That’s a promise.”

“Thank you. Let me sleep on it. I’ll let you know. No, let me up, I have to leave.”

She quickly dressed, fussed with her hair, with a final kiss she was out the door and into her car. After she’d turned a corner, she stopped and got her cell phone out. One message stood out, from Will.

‘You okay?’

‘wonderful just wonderful’

‘And?’

She sent him an emoji of a flame, followed by ‘home in 20’

Will was waiting for her, he had a hug and an offer of a drink. “No, thank you, I had at least four glasses of wine already. How about iced tea?”

In the kitchen, he poured it for her. “Tell me about it?”

“I got there about seven, we had a drink and dinner. He really can make his stew, I brought home a container of it for you. We went out into his back yard, it’s beautiful out there, all wooded, and then, well, I let him seduce me.”

“Was it good?”

“Good, yes. Great, not really. I wasn’t very relaxed.” She gave him a sly glance. “I’ll probably feel easier the next time.”

“That’ll be okay with me. You can stay as long as you want, tell him I’m fine with it. You didn’t have to hurry home.”

“Dear, I’m not sure I want to let him know you’re okay with this.”

“Hmmm. Why not?”

“I’m just thinking that if he thinks I’m cheating I’ll have a little more control. He might want to be more obvious if he thought there was nothing to hide. This way, I can keep him from being too persistent. That was a little problem when we were young.”

“Well, whatever you want is fine with me, you know that. If you want to stay the night or anything, you can tell him I’m away on business or something.”

“Thank you.” 

They headed for the bedroom, when they were between the covers Terri crept into his arms. “Do you want me?” she asked.

“You’re not too tired?” he laughed.

“No, not tired at all.” As the married couple made love, Will was joyed to think his wife had given this and that to her former - and now current - lover. He asked about sensations, positions, how Paul had changed over the years. It was a bit of surprise as she thought about the prick that had been inside her just an hour before, she was incited and had a few really good comes as her husband licked and screwed at her. Yes, at least for awhile, this was a good thing.

She waited three days before she called Paul. At that, it was after hours from a phone at her school where she wouldn’t be overheard. “Hey, sexy!”

“Hey! Why don’t you come over here and tell me why you think I’m so sexy.”

“What about Tuesday night? That’s Will’s bowling night, I can get away for a couple of hours.”

“I want more than that,” Paul groaned.

“You’ll have to take what’s given,” she laughed.

 

Terri showed up at Paul’s house at 6:30, rushing into his arms. “Remember that harem outfit you liked to see me wear?” she teased.

“I sure do.”

“Well, give me a few minutes.” She hurried into the bedroom, and got into her new costume, the one she’d purchased just for Paul. Oh, she’d let Will see it, but she hadn’t put it on for him. When she danced into the living room, Paul took one look at her and applauded. She had long transparent pants of purple on, gathered by elastic as her ankles, a golden belt at her belly. Through them, Paul could see a tiny g-string. The skimpy top was made of similar materials, long sleeves, tight bodice, her  buxom breasts were displayed, the nipples clearly stabbing through the thin fabric. She pretended he was a sheik while she was his harem girl, feeding him tidbits from a tray she’d brought from a deli. 

The clothes, of course, didn’t remain on either of them for long, they sensuously irritated the several erotic zones with hands and mouth. Terri was less restrained this second time with her lover, coming handily as he licked at her labia, and many times thereafter. Missionary wasn’t even thought of that night, instead it was a progression of positions that would have done credit to lovers twenty years younger. Paul orgasmed brightly, and probably would have come again had Terri stayed longer than 9:00. But she insisted she didn’t want to give her husband any reason to suspect her infidelity.

Will didn’t expect her home early, he came in a bit after ten, was surprised to see his wife, who he knew to be freshly fucked, sitting on a love seat in a thin costume of violet hue. Once again, Terri was happily laid by two men on the same night; it was becoming a habit! For his part, Will relished the sloppy seconds, even though Paul had worn a condom and her fissure was no more lubricated than normal.

The affair between Paul and Terri continued through the baseball playoffs and into the first frosts. Mainly it was on Tuesday nights between 6:30 and 9:00. Sometimes dinner was involved, sometimes they ate sparingly. They didn’t constrain themselves to the bedroom, almost every room in the house was boinked in, in addition to the backyard one warm October night while it was still warm enough for bundling. Perhaps once a month, Paul wanted to take her to a nice restaurant, but to protect her reputation they had to drive at least a half-hour away to an area she probably wouldn’t be recognized. On those nights, they got back with little or no time to have sex. On a bank holiday she had off, she told Paul that Will had a business trip and he’d leave Sunday morning, she drove with her lover to a bed and breakfast an hour away, for the first time they spent the entire night together. 

After Thanksgiving, while their lovemaking became no less fun, Terri slowly gathered the weekly get together was less than Paul wanted. He began to beg a little more stridently that she stay longer than 9:00, invited her to come over other evenings as well. Perhaps she could tell Will she was going shopping or something on weekend afternoons and spend it with him? Although it worried her a bit, they might be getting too close for comfort, she sporadically gave into his demands, meeting him for a Sunday afternoon romp, a second evening during the week.

Suddenly, he started dropping the word ‘love’ from time to time. And she found out his other lady friend was no longer intimate with him, Terri didn’t quite know why but she had suspicions.

She let the Christmas holidays pass. Even though the Neblett’s two children came home, one with a spouse, Terri managed a quick afternoon encounter with Paul one day. But that didn’t seem enough for him.

It was after New Year’s when Paul took her to a nice restaurant, he asked her to dress nicely. She wore a little black dress, jewelry, he had his best suit and tie on. During the rich dessert he made a proposal. “Terri, I’m in love with you. Deeply. I think you are with me, too. I want you to think about leaving your husband, coming to live with me. I’ll marry you if you’ll have me.”

She reached across the table, held his hand. “I’m very fond of you as well. But I love my husband, I’ve spent over twenty-five years in my marriage, we have a family. You’ve got to let me think about this.”

“But you’ll consider it?” She just smiled.

Before they left, Terri disappeared into the women’s room, texted Will. ‘going to be late tonite don't wait up.’

As they drove the miles back to Paul’s house she held his hand tightly, may even have touched his lap from time to time. She didn’t mind when he placed a hand under the skirt of her dress, spread her legs as he diddled with her clit.

He expected her to leave soon after they got home, it was already well past 9:00. Instead, she whispered, ‘Take me to bed.’ That night, they played for more than an hour and a half. She asked him time and again what he wanted, seemingly having no desire for her own pleasure. With her mouth she brought him close to explosion, clamping down on him to delay his climax, make it better. When it came time to penetrate, she let him direct her, allowing any position he wanted, finally encouraging him into a roaring eruption. Afterwards they cuddled for a few minutes as usual, but she quickly got back into her dress. As he walked her to the front door, ready for his goodnight kiss, she asked him to sit, and on the edge of a chair she addressed him.

“Paul, you’ve told me you love me. I can’t say I feel the same. I’ve enjoyed the past few months, you’re a truly wonderful lover. But there’s something you need to know. From the very beginning, back in August, Will has known where I’ve been on Tuesday nights. He hasn’t objected, he’s actually encouraged me. But I made a promise to him when I began this affair with you, that if feelings developed that couldn’t be controlled I’d break it off. Obviously that time has come.”

“Then it’s over?” Paul cried, his voice breaking, his eyes glistening.

“It’s over. We’ve made love for the last time, you won’t see me again. I wish you well.” With that she gave him one final kiss, walked to the door, opened it to the sound of weeping.

On the drive home she examined her own soul. Yes, she was sad the affair had ended, she’d come to really like Paul again. But the hardness within her comforted her that she’d done the right thing. There was a little part, one she was disappointed in, that was a bit joyed that now Paul would experience the pain she’d had those twenty-eight years ago, when he’d been the one to tell her it was over.

And she knew, even though she might give her body to other men for the pleasure of it, she would never, ever, have a love affair again.

 

 

 

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