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When it comes to my lovelife, never in my wildest dreams could I imagine that I’d date a married man.
It was just plain wrong.
I had known that fact early in my teen years, when my sister Kelly’s best friend, Courtney, was caught in the act of lovemaking in her parent’s basement. Her folks returned from a shopping trip to Costco and decided to carry a large purchase directly to the basement from the back door.
Apparently Courtney and her beau were getting busy on top of the pool table, the stereo sounds masking the key in the back door, and never heard the parents enter — until her mother let out a scream. If being caught in the act wasn’t enough strike two was that her mate was 12 years her elder. Strike three was the undeniable fact that Courtney found herself pregnant with the man’s child.
They would have gotten married, except for the fact that he already had a wife, two children and a world of problems with the law.
Kelly and I were lectured about the situation weekly. Don’t have sex, don’t date married men, don’t chew gum in line, don’t, well, you get the idea.
So what the heck was I doing seeing a married man in his mid-40s, some 20 years my senior?
If I could explain it I would, but I can’t. I seduced him, I will admit that much, and originally thought it would be a quick fling. Six months have gone by, and while I do have a steady boyfriend I will also admit to longing for Daniel’s phone calls and touch.
Daniel, my older guy, is a sweetheart. And he had this habit of surprising me, with gifts and exciting sexual escapades.
As mentioned in a prior story, Daniel loved “adventurous” escapades, convincing me to cavort with him in the car, at parks, a baseball dugout and other semi-public locations. It was very hot for me, knowing people could be nearby and might even catch a glimpse of what we were doing. Not that I wanted to be caught in the act, no, that wasn’t the case. Rather it was the treat of danger which boiled my juices.
Given his marital situation, Daniel and I didn’t have a lot of time to meet, and while we were a little adventurous there was always an eye out for onlookers. We’d catch time together when he was supposed to be golfing (excellent, because of the five hours he could use as an excuse for being away from home) or when he was shopping or getting chores done. I imagined he’d tell his wife he was heading to Home Depot or the local car wash and instead we’d get together for an hour or so and talk, laugh and, yes, mess around.
It was on the edge, dangerous and satisfying for me.
Wendy (his lovely wife) was a sweetheart, and for a time I was dismayed at having seduced her husband. Yet I never really attempted to cut off the relationship, I knew nothing was in “our” plans other than having a good time. Our meetings were exciting, the sex was good, and the thrill of doing naughty things with another woman’s property was likely as exhilarating to me as it was exciting to Daniel having me as his little sly, on the side, honey.
I actually casino şirketleri enjoyed our quickies, our sneaking around. Yes, in my “real” life I’d date and even love someone, but my fling with Daniel was completely different. While I had feelings for him, I think it was the act of what we were doing and how we were doing it that made it so hot.
A couple weeks back, after an evening where a policeman came within a minute of finding me kneeling on the front seat of Daniel’s car pleasuring his meaty manhood, we began to take more precautions. Public, or semi-public, sex when caught in the act by the wrong person was indeed lewd and salacious behavior, and neither Daniel nor I could afford making our way onto the pages of the local rag.
So over the last couple weeks we were much more careful in our selection of places for intimacy. I also re-learned a long forgotten skill that helped me get through high school — the art of the handjob.
My first one was given during the summer between my junior and senior years. I had discovered boys a little late, and I also quickly discovered several of my friends were more popular than I…even though I believed my personality and looks were their equal. They, though, “put out” on dates where my virginal body was off limits. To combat this good reputation I began allowing certain guys a little leeway in our late night tug of wars. They’d be allowed to cop a feel of my breasts or a little stroking of my ass, but were to keep away from my virgin pussy.
That satisfied a few of them, but one incredible hunk, Tom, wouldn’t take no for an answer. He swore his girlfriend Ann had blown him, a fact I believe to this day he embellished, but he was insistent that I was the only girl he dated who didn’t satisfy him in some way on their dates.
One night we made out on a dark lover’s lane and Tom became increasingly difficult to push away, not that I really wanted him too. We had been making out for nearly an hour and I was feeling, well, wonderful. I allowed him to fondle my breasts, under my bra, and that added to my stimulation. He begged for more, but no meant no, and I emphatically told him so.
Still he wanted release, and as we kissed I felt his hand leave my breast. Without breaking the kiss I glanced down, and saw him unleash his fly and pull out his manhood. It was erect, throbbing, and I watched as he began playing with it. It was an awesome sight, and soon on impulse I reached down and began stroking it.
Tom began moaning and rocking to the tune of my manipulation of his blossoming dick. He groaned and moaned that it felt good, so I continued my playing with and stroking of his cock. It throbbed to my touch, and suddenly, without warning, I brought it to a splashy, sticky explosion. At first I was disgusted at having the sticky spermy stuff on my hand and blouse, but given Tom’s breathlessness and his whispering of sweet nothings into my ears I surmised I not only had performed admirably but I also did so without any risk of pregnancy.
Over the next casino firmaları few months I mastered the craft of getting guys off with my hand, first Tom, then, after we broke up, Buddy, Robby and Bill. Word of my exploits apparently made their way around the locker room, and I never had a problem getting a weekend date. My handjob skills improved with practice — like mom said, “practice makes perfect!” Little did she know. Over time I moved on to other ways of satisfying my dates but I always had fond memories of my teenage wrist workouts.
Late the night after that close encounter of the police kind with Daniel I remembered that handjobs could not only be satisfying but also a heck of a lot safer in the public arena than other forms of sexual escapades. Especially when fooling around with a guy in an automobile.
My latest lover and I met a couple times after the near discovery date and I practiced and regained my skill at stroking cock — like they say, it’s like riding a bike, you never forget. Daniel was surprised the first time I did it, but there was no question he loved it and it was enjoyable for me.
The act of stroking a cock apparently is something guys like, as if they dislike anything sexual. I mean, I stroke a cock while giving head, play with it before slipping it inside my pussy, so what’s wrong with stroking one until it cums?
As I’ve mentioned, Daniel has this thing about his car, he was forever getting it serviced and cleaned. So it was no surprise to me when he pulled up to the parking lot where I was waiting, flirtingly slipping my skirt up to show a little thigh.
I slid into the car, ensuring my pleated, 14-inch miniskirt stayed high and gave him a good eye shot of my white thigh. He murmured something about me being a tease, but instead of taking me in his arms he just asked if I minded if he drove over an got his mud-drenched car cleaned. Nope, as long as we were together, I was happy.
We left the lot and drove up the interstate away from civilization and pulled off at a couple exits. But instead of driving into the gas station he slowly drive past, turned around and circle back to the main road. The second time he did it I asked what was going on, and he merely replied he only took his car through a certain type of car wash.
Whatever…but his indecision gave me an idea, and I reached over to stroke his thigh. After a bit I began playing with his cock under his pants, feeling it get hard. He was rocking in the driver’s seat, and I couldn’t help thinking that anyone who passed us would have to know something was going on in that seat.
I stroked him for a couple minutes before I prepared to take the ultimate plunge. Unzipping him, I pulled out the manhood and stroked right out in the open and readied my lips to go down on the throbbing manhood…all the while Daniel was driving and moaning.
I believed I would get him off while he was driving, but apparently he had other ideas. Here I was, ready to suck his cock, and he was nonplussed. He pulled off the interstate güvenilir casino once again, but quickly drove back on in the same direction.
Minutes later he did find a car wash to his liking off Exit 32, and we first filled the gas tank (yes, he zipped but there was no mistaking his erection in his pants) then purchased “The Works”. He slipped back into the driver’s seat, a tent still decorating his pants.
We pulled up to the entryway to the adjacent car wash, entered the wash code and closed the windows. Daniel suggested for a reason not readily apparent that I move my seat forward a bit. I soon found out why.
As he slowly glided into the car wash stall, he told me to pull the lever and push my seat all the way back. I did, figuring he was going to play with me for a minute, but he pulled me toward him as the spray began hitting the car. Without a whisper of encouragement he simply pulled my head over his cock and I sucked him rock hard in a few seconds before he pushed me prone back onto my seat.
To my surprise he slid over on top of me, slipped his pants down and quickly rubbed his dick on my pussy, sliding up and down, before entering my wet, wanting, waiting quim. Right there in the car wash he began banging me.
I still can’t believe there was no other prelude, he just rubbed his dick up and down my slit and then banged it home into my creamy hole. Clearly I was in need of a cock but the surprise of his quick taking of me sparked my libido to new heights.
As the car was enveloped in suds Daniel pounded my pussy, rocking to the swinging pendulum of the cleaning cycle. He reached around and held my ass with both hands, sort of lifting me up so my legs were high and spread wide, giving him help with his pounding. The fuck was incredible, and I was lost in the excitement when I heard him groan he was going to cum.
We continued our mutual rocking as I saw his eyes close and face contort as he began filling my hole with his love sauce. We held each other close, intensely kissing until a loud horn beeped behind us.
“Shit!” exclaimed Daniel, jumping back over to the driver’s seat, giving the occupants of the car behind us a flash. I looked over my shoulder only to see a Ford pickup behind us with two teenage boys slapping hands at seeing us doing the wild thing. How long the wash had ended was anyone’s guess, but the two clearly has seen us banging.
As Daniel pulled out of the car wash, his pants still down around his ankles, I smoothed down my skirt and blew a kiss at the two voyeurs behind us. We sped out of the facility and began laughing at the escapade, Reaching over to my guy, I kissed Daniel’s neck as he drove back onto the interstate.
“That was incredible,” said my boyfriend.
“Yea, I bet that’s something you and your Wendy never contemplated!” I replied. Leave it to me to remind by lover that he was being anything but the faithful husband.
“You got that right, to her being risqué is leaving the lights on when we do it,” said Daniel.
Gulp, he had to throw that it. Yes, I knew he banged his wife, heck, she’s beautiful. I just didn’t need to be reminded of that. Still, I put it aside as I leaned back into the car seat and replayed our earlier activities in my mind.
A smile came to my lips.
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