Pushing The Envelope

The night before we met for coffee, I dreamed about Gil. I woke up with my heart clattering against my ribs. The dream was vivid but it faded quickly. I tried to hold onto it, but all I had was impressions: cold porcelain and slick metal, breathing ragged as torn silk, the taste of Kahlua, the sweet smell of sweat and exertion. I couldn't hold onto it, and lay there in bed, looking at the ceiling and listening to Paul's soft snoring. It was nearly six anyway so I got up, and when I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, I discovered I was _very_ wet. Paul still hadn't moved--when he sl**ps, nothing short of Gabriel's trumpet can wake him--and for a moment I thought about waking him up for a quickie, to take the edge off. And, I admit, as a bit of an apology for last night's argument.

But he gets so grumpy when he doesn't make the first move that it's usually not worth it. I took a shower instead and got dressed, making a little more noise than necessary. It didn't wake Paul. I chose my yellow off-the-shoulder sundress which shows off my cleavage and hides that distressing bulge around my middle. I wasn't dressing to attract, you understand. It was just that Gil had looked so fit and trim that I suddenly felt old and dumpy.





That's unreasonable, I know--I'm thirty-eight, I've had three c***dren, and I just can't expect to look the same as I did when I was eighteen. I shouldn't _have_ to; Paul doesn't look the same as when we met. Like Inez says, men have it easy. To prove I wasn't dressing to attract, I didn't open fresh pantyhose; I used an old pair with a hole on the inside of the right leg, just below the crotch.

The boys were already arguing when I got downstairs, so I got them quiet, fed, and off to the schoolbus on time. Then I left to meet Gil. Okay, I was fifteen minutes early. His hotel was a six-story fake-adobe affair sprawled over a block on the edge of town, and the coffee shop was mostly stucco and ferns, very airy. It didn't matter that I had an air conditioner blowing on my neck, my palms were so sweaty I had to wipe them with Kleenex. And he showed up ten minutes early. I waved him over. "You're early," he said as he sat down. "I'm always early. It drives Paul crazy." I took off my hat and ran a hand through my hair to fluff it. I get hat-head something crazy. "You're early too." "I was already up. I swim laps every morning." I had to smile. "Uh-huh," I told him. "So neither of us was anxious about this meeting?" He grinned that grin, and suddenly I wasn't thirty-eight any more. "Of course not. After all, it's been twenty years, what's another ten minutes more or less?" "You're right. You're absolutely right." We both grinned at each other like idiots, and might have for hours except that the waitress came to take our orders. The waitress was s*******n and pert, with a perfect complexion and a carelessly svelte figure; Gil, bless him, didn't look twice at her. He ordered the continental breakfast and I had already eaten with the boys. She asked if we wanted coffee, and Gil and I looked at each other and for no reason at all I was thinking about coffee breath. I hadn't even planned on kissing him. He laughed and nodded, and I said, "Hell, yes. Coffee. Bring a whole pot, if you want." She left and I shrugged and asked, "So what's new?" "You mean besides parting ways with Meyer and Betty and getting married and divorced and selling envelopes to your husband? Not much." "The longer the time, the less there is to say about it." I sighed. "Well. No divorce, and we have three k**s.

Currently fifteen, thirteen, and nine, and obsessed with, um, girls, roller blades, and dinosaurs." "Nice." "Oh, don't take that tone with me. k**s _can_ be nice, but they can also be a royal pain in the butt." I paused. "In the ass. A _fucking_ pain in the _ass_." "A fucking pain in the fucking ass," he laughed. "Get it right." Our coffee arrived with his breakfast. When the waitress had left again, he said, "I love imagining Mom sneaking out to swear." "I don't get to swear at home. Besides the k**s, Paul doesn't like it. It's not ladylike," I said. "And it's not like I know more words than they do. I caught Trevor, our oldest boy, saying `felching' last month. `Felching' is not in Webster's." "I know what it is, but you don't want to hear before breakfast." I set my elbows on the table and rested my chin on interlaced fingers. "You can't shock me, fella. I've been to Tupperware parties." He sipped his coffee, primly dabbed at his lips with his napkin and then said delicately, "To felch. Verb, transitive. To suck ejaculate from someone's anus." "Eccch," I said and shook my head. "And I thought `fuck' was daring." "Told you you didn't want to know." "I don't think I'll use that one at the next Tupperware party.



But `fuck,' `damn,' and `shit' are still delightfully wicked." "I wondered what went on at Tupperware parties. I always suspected they were a seething sea of passions and perversions." "Oh, please," I told him. "Inez--my friend Inez--once threw a Fuckerware party--" "A what?" "Fuckerware. That's what Inez called it. Basically it was a bunch of women from the neighborhood being terribly daring and modeling lingerie for each other. The sales representative also showed us different toys and lotions." "Interesting. Did everyone enjoy themselves?" "There was a lot of nervous giggling and double entendres. But mostly the party was dull. And it made _sex_ dull. Inez was so pissed off." I had to smile. She'd been hoping for some hot experience and she got...suburbia. She wanted cajun chicken and she got KFC. "And Cloris Mayhew, who's really kind of creepy, keeps calling Inez up to see when the next party is. _Cloris_ thought it was great, but next time, she thinks, we ought to have games." Gil looked blankly at me. "Tupperware games. Like for instance, whoever can make the most words out of the letters in `Tupperware' gets a prize." I shook my head. "We didn't have games." "I can't imagine Tupperware games helping. What would you do -- see who can name the most positions?" "We know there are at least sixty-nine." "Ninety-six--that would be lovers arguing." I winced. "Too close to home." He said, "You could ask them how many words they can make out of the letters in `felch.'" He smiled and tilted his head and suddenly I had this flash of memory, a whole scene: Betty's sweaty flesh stuck to the length of me, her tongue buried in me, my breasts squeezed heavy against my sides and my face wet from her, the taste of her something like watermelon and fresh-mown grass tight against the back of my throat. Gil was over my head, his nearly hairless balls starting to relax and sag after his orgasm.



I could see his cock softening and there was a ring of color around the base as it withdrew from Betty's asshole, I could hear the sticky pulling sound as it shrank away from her, I could smell the heady smell. As he pulled away, I tilted my head back to see his face tall above me. He smiled down at me, tilting his head just so. A bulge of his come oozed out of Betty's asshole and I licked the length of her pussy, finally catching his come on my tongue. "Oh, god," I said. "I've _done_ it. I've felched." He nodded. "I remember." "I haven't thought of that for years." I made a face and then swallowed, not sure if I liked the memories I had just evoked. "--You remembered?" He shrugged: _no big deal_. And that was when I knew I could sl**p with Gil if I wanted to. "You were...eager and apt," he said. "You were ready and willing to do anything." "Jesus. I was, wasn't I?" I giggled. "And last month I turned down a chance to chaperone the boys on a school trip, because Reg Lewis keeps hitting on me and I was afraid it would look bad." I shook my head again. "What ever happened to that young woman?" He shrugged." She got married, had k**s. She grew up. Every choice remade her until she was something she couldn't have imagined." I snorted. "She certainly didn't imagine _this._" I gestured at myself. "You don't have to tell me. I sell envelopes for a living." "Poor Kim," I told him. "She lied about who she was. She pretended to be someone else, and while she was pretending, she grew old." "You're not old." "Thanks."



I shrugged, suddenly depressed. "I feel like one of Robert's fossils. All the living stuff has been replaced with rock, leaving something that _looks_ like Kim but isn't really." I ran my fingertip around the smooth rim of my coffee mug, smearing the lipstick that had come off. I looked at the red stain on my finger. "And why? So Paul could marry a virgin." "It didn't matter to you, it did to him. That's what you said." "I know what I said," I told him as I scrubbed my fingertip clean with a tissue. "Except...except I think it does matter." I inspected my finger. It was fine. Unblemished. Born-again virginal. I looked past it, up at Gil. Awareness of him, of how _male_ he was, hit me like leaving a cool building for the summer sun. "I don't know what to think, Gil. What do you think?" "Kim," he said carefully, "I want to fuck you." My bl**d was roaring in my ears, I wasn't sure I had heard him correctly. "You said--" He nodded. "I know what I said. That doesn't change what I want. I may not be able to have it. I can live with that. It may be a mistake. I can live with that, too." He gave me a sudden smile. "It's not the most romantic proposition I've ever made, but it's the truest." It's funny how much stuff can go through your mind at a moment like that. I suppose I ought to have been indignant or flattered or just one emotion, but instead I was all of those and more: aware of the posturing so I would always be the _correct_ person Paul married, aware of the marriage-bed juggling (_too_tired_tonight_but_he_did_last_week_when_I_wanted_and_next_week's_my_ period_), proud Gil asked me, worried it was wrong, scared I'd forgotten how to _be_ anyone else, to be _with_ anyone else, and most of all I was desperately overwhelmingly horny! And I knew I'd said yes, even though I hadn't opened my mouth. Gil threw money onto the table and held his hand out for me to take. His hand was warm and his grip strong: he kept firm pressure on my arm as I stood up. I was glad, because my knees were shaking. Gil grabbed my hat and contrived to brush my breasts with the brim as he swept it to my head; it was so sudden, so unexpected, my nipples suddenly pressed against my bra. "Gil?" I said in a low voice. He stopped. "Yes?" "I'm going to wear you out." "I hope so," he said, and we started to the door.



We didn't speak. Once we were in the elevator, alone for a moment, he ran his fingers from the nape of my neck to the base of my spine, and I shivered. I stepped in front of him and pressed myself against his body, making small circles with my hips, feeling the contours of his trapped cock slide across one cheek, between them, across the other and back again. The elevator stopped on the floor before his and a maid got on; I stopped moving and we stood there, his cock straining against the base of my spine. It felt huge and delightful. I'm sure I was grinning like a mad thing. As soon as the elevator stopped, I walked into the corridor without looking back. As I heard the elevator hum off to its next destination, I felt the feather touch of a breeze as Gil came up behind me and then a wash of cool air as he unzipped my dress, laying my back bare to the world. I felt tremendously naked as I spun to face him. "You'd better tell me where your room is." He already had his key out. "Right here." While he put the key in the lock, I paid him back by reaching down and unzipping his pants, pulling the fabric away from the lump of his cock. I giggled, it was such a silly giddy thing to do. I could see the white of his shorts, a sideways eye in his cream slacks. He started to speak as he opened the door but I swept in after him, plastering myself against the length of his body, searching for his mouth, kissing his jaw, cheek, chin.



No aftershave, just clean man and a faint reminder of soap. He fumbled for a moment (removing the key, shutting the door) and then his attention was fully on me, like I was something new and different, like I was special and wanted and surprising. Strong hands sliding up the backs of my legs, cupping my ass, smoothing the muscles of my back, clutching my hair. He pulled away from a moment, just to look, and I liked it. He slid his hands down me again, the front this time: collarbones and breasts and nipples and stomach and hips. His hands had a touch of roughness to them--old calluses, maybe. "Pantyhose," he said, and made a face. "I didn't know," I told him. "Next time." I kicked off my shoes and knelt. I wanted to memorize his cock, I wanted to possess it. I wanted him in my hands, my mouth, my pussy, my ass. I undid his belt and let him step out of his trousers. His cock was sturdy in his pale jockeys, strapped to his belly by the elastic. I pulled his shorts down to free it; his cock toppled until it was pointing just above horizontal, the head an inch from my mouth. His wonderful masculine odor filled my nostrils and I kissed the head once lightly, just as a prelude. His cock twitched once and bobbed. The only hint of his foreskin was a slight fleshiness along the shaft. A stranger's cock. I took it in my mouth, sliding my lips over the soft-hard head, letting my teeth rest just behind the ridge of it.



He was mine now. I had him locked in my mouth. I ran my tongue over and around the smooth skin, tasting it, relishing it like the first plum of summer, reluctant to finish it off. It was hot and smooth. I drew my head back, dragging my teeth along it, steadied the hot hard shaft in my hand and leaned forward, surrounding his cock with my mouth, my tongue, my throat. Then again, deeper. There was a sudden roiling in my stomach: too far. I hadn't done this for too many years. I pulled my head back and looked at his cock, still connected to me by a line of saliva. I squeezed the shaft and pulled, watching the foreskin suddenly appear. He was so hard and tight I could only just roll skin up to the base of the head. I jacked him again, fascinated by it, and again. "Kim," Gil said in a low voice. I looked up. His face was drawn. "Do you want me to come on your face?" "Not yet," I told him. He'd peeled off his shirt while I was sucking his cock. Nice chest. His nipples were puckered brown pebbles. "Then you should stop. Just for a moment." I felt cheated and excited. I hadn't done anything, really, and he was threatening to come. None of the cues were the same as with Paul--it was all new, all exciting. I could do anything with Gil. He pulled gently on my arm and as I stood up, he slipped me free of one shoulder of the dress and one bra strap. Peeling the cup from my breast, he stroked my breast then pinched the nipple roughly. With his other hand, he hoisted my skirt around my waist and began to fondle my ass, finding the run on the inside of the pantyhose leg. One clever finger slipped through the leg of my panties and traced a wet path from cunt to asshole. I couldn't remember the last time my nipples had been so hard, and I was so conscious of my cunt, the heavy electric feeling of it... I felt delicious. I wanted to _see_ myself as a sexual a****l, I wanted to see my breasts sway as this man fucked me from behind, see the lust on our faces. I started moving towards the bathroom, he followed me, leaving his pants behind.



The bathroom was cool and white in counterpoint to us. My hair was mussed, my breasts were bare and bulging from the twisted cups of my bra, and I had a naked man behind me. I leaned my elbows on the cool countertop, my nipples brushing my forearms. He rested his hands on my hips and our gazes met in the mirror. I gave him my sexiest smile--he smiled back and hoisted my skirt to my waist. I heard a low growling but I didn't know which of us it was. I tossed my head and twitched my hips. I hadn't wanted anybody this much in _years_. I loved the lack of words. I loved the obvious arousal on his face, in his movements, in the heavy wagging of his big cock. His cock felt like hot iron against my ass cheeks. He moved expertly with a minimum of fumbling and then the head of his cock was waiting at the entrance to my cunt. I inched backward just a bit, to feel it inside me, but his hands held me where I was. His cock rested there like a promise. I wanted him inside me. I wanted to fuck. I wanted to come. My hips twitched again without my willing it. I shivered though the room was not cold. Wherever he touched me was like fire: hands burning on hips, cock burning on cunt. "Fuck me," I whispered. "You're beautiful," he said and thrust forward. Like fire taking paper, like water quenching a thirst, he entered me. It took two more thrusts before his hips slapped against my ass and I was full. Full of cock, full of excitement, full of life. And even as I thought that, I also thought, God, you can tell I was an English major, can't you? And then there were no more words to describe. There was just the old-new simple-complex business of fucking and feeling good. I don't know how many times I came; I just wasn't aware. Not earth-shaking orgasms, just tiny ones that rippled through me. I watched us in the mirror, un-self-conscious and lusty and noisy and sweaty. I slammed my ass back against his hips and moved it in small circles, feeling him deep inside me. He leaned over me and gruffly handled my breasts and pinched and stroked my swollen nipples. It hurt delightfully. I stood up straight; he was just enough taller that he had to bend his legs, and his cock popped out. He knelt, spun me around and peeled off my hose and panties, then gave me a quick kiss on my clit. I leaned back, certain he was going to eat me now but instead he stood up, lifted me and set me on his cock.



I slid down and felt sparks as we ground together. I wrapped my legs around his waist. In the mirror, my skirt had fallen down again, but I got the occasional glimpse of bare thigh, hip, and a shadowy view of cock in cunt. That couldn't be prim Kim Murdock, with that strange man's cock in her. I laughed again and wrapped my arms tight around Gil's neck, striving for orgasm, pumping until I caught fire again, shuddering and weak. Gil felt it, and set me on the counter. He stood still for a moment. "Come in me," I told him after I don't know how long and he began to move again, slowly and picking up speed, just a third of his cock sliding in and out of me, until finally all his muscles clenched and his back arched, stiffened, and I felt his cock throb in my cunt. He thrust a couple of more times and then shivered. I slouched backward and pulled myself off his semi hard cock. A big gob of come began to leak from me. He reached down and caught it on his hand. I grabbed his hand and we touched palms, spreading his sticky warm come all over our hands. I held my hand to his mouth and he licked my palm, then sucked each finger clean. I did the same for him. We looked at each other for a moment. Then I saw myself in the mirror and giggled. "What a slut." I peeled off the rest of my clothes and hugged him. "What a joy." There was one awkward topic to bring. I stepped back and said, "I suppose I ought to tell you that I'm, uh, receptive. Since we didn't use, uh--" He picked me up and carried me over to the bed without putting me down. "I suppose I ought to tell you," he said gravely, "I've had a vasectomy." I laughed because nothing could go wrong today--and then shrieked as he dropped me onto the bed. I giggled. My stomach muscles and my thighs were quivering jelly. Gil lay down beside me and began to rub my legs. I lay there, enjoying his touch. "I haven't done that for a long time," I told him. "Just fucked. Total a****ls." "How do you feel?" "Great. Oh, you mean about cheating?" I thought about it. "Not terrible, surprisingly. Inez has been after me for years to have an affair. Says it would do me a world of good." I stretched and tousled his hair. "I guess she was right." After a while Gil finished rubbing my legs and tummy and stretched out beside me. I kissed him, teasing him with my tongue. "You know what I liked?" I asked him. "What?" "It was unrehearsed." "Good, I always get stage fright." "Not that, silly. Paul--does it bother you to talk about Paul?" Gil shrugged. "You're a married woman. It bugs me a little but that's because I want you all to myself." I nodded. I wouldn't want to talk about another woman he was fucking. "Anyway, Paul was a virgin, and I was _supposed_ to be a virgin, but it wasn't like he hadn't _read_ anything.



So he was very careful to be a full and tender lover, you know--tried to make sure I came once or twice or three times--except he's _always_ like that. Even when I want to _fuck_. And then it becomes kind of...mechanical. Like, when we have sex, there's some kissing, and then some caressing, and then some general body licking and touching and then he goes down on me and then we fuck." "You don't--?" He lifted his eyebrows. "I didn't notice your technique was rusty." "It is kind of unfair of me, isn't it? No, we fell out of the habit. I guess for the first year he just put me off because he wanted to fuck instead of coming in my mouth. And Paul's got a bit of control freak in him. Going down on someone involves controlling them, and Paul's not really one to give up that control." He nodded and reached out to touch my cheek. "It's tough to give up control." "You'd come in my mouth." He chuckled. "I'd come anywhere you wanted. I'd felch you if you asked." "Mmmm. Next time I want you to fuck me in the ass. I haven't been fucked in the ass for a long time." "Sure." "With a dildo," I said. "I used to like that stuffed feeling, a butt-plug in my ass and a cock in my cunt." "I don't actually have one with me. I could buy one, though." I made a pillow of my arms, remembering things I used to do. "I could tie you up, that would be a control thing." He lazily stroked one breast. My nipple hardened. "I can see I'm going to have to make a list," he said. "No," I said, "I'll make it." I went to the writing table where a box of Gil's business cards sat.



I picked one up and looked at it, then took his pen and scribbled on the back of it: _Fuck_my_ ass_. I set it aside and picked up another one and wrote, _Butt-plug_ and set that one aside. _On an overnight train_ was next, then _Let_me_tie_you_up_, then _You_and_me_and_a_ girlfriend_. Ideas and situations tumbled into my mind and I sat down and started writing. On a couple of them, the business card wasn't big enough, so I wrote the description on a piece of letter paper, frantic to get it all down. Maybe Gil spoke to me, maybe he didn't--I wasn't listening to anything but my torrent of fantasies. Eventually I stopped. There was a stack of cards and papers, maybe forty of them. Gil touched the top one with his forefinger. "You want to do all of these?" I nodded. "I'm only in town for a month." He picked up the stack and started to read them--I covered them with my hand. "Not in front of me. Please." "If we're going to do these--" I squirmed while he read through them. Finally he set them down. "I can see I should finally take that back vacation." He sat on the edge of the desk. I noticed his cock head was completely shrouded in foreskin. None of my fantasies had turned him on. "Kim, we're having an affair. I haven't had an affair in years but I remember the rules." "Rules?" Gil nodded. "I am not to assume you are going to leave your husband for me. We leave the rest of our lives outside that door.



Our time together is precious, and stolen. We don't squander it. I don't take sides in arguments you have with your husband. You don't invite me to f****y functions so we can have a quickie while your husband is around. And last and hardest, when it's over, it's over." I nodded. "Doesn't seem very romantic." "It's not." He shrugged. "In some ways, I'm not a very romantic guy. Sorry." I pointed at the pile of cards. "Did you want to do any of those?" "I want to do all of them, Kim, plus a couple you didn't write down. But we only have a month. Pick your top dozen. Or we'll each pick six. We can do three a week. Can you arrange to meet me three times a week?" I hadn't thought of an affair as something to be _planned_. "I guess." He looked stern. "Yes," I said. "How can you be so calculating about this?" "Two reasons." He held up a finger. "First: it was a poorly handled affair that finally broke up my marriage." Another finger. "Second: I'm crazy about you, Kim. I mean crazy in the teen-age sense--I'd sit on the curb across from your house for six hours just to see you taking out the garbage. You need those rules to keep me from trying to take up all of your time. I need those rules for the same reason." "That's kind of scary," I said. He nodded. "And it's the most alive I've felt in years." "Me too," I said. His cock was starting to lengthen again, the head now a third uncovered like a cautious turtle. I touched the velvety skin with my forefinger. He groaned. "A month," he said. "We have a month of this kind of living." "So make love to me now," I told him.



He pulled the other chair next to me and kissed me tenderly and deeply. I closed my eyes. Nothing touched except our lips and tongues, but I could feel the heat of his body. I knew his hand was on the back of my chair, beside my shoulder. I pushed my tongue into his mouth, still surprised by how he tasted. After a while, he pulled away and I felt his kiss on my right nipple. I sagged back in the chair and let him touch me. He stayed there for a long time, caressing and teasing it, gradually working away from the nipple so he was also kissing and touching the rest of my breast. It tingled. He kissed his way to the other breast, this time working his way in to the nipple. The wet neglected right nipple was cool and hard. I reached up and played with it, something I'd never done with Paul. He touched my shoulder and I opened my eyes. His cock was fully hard now, and level with my eyes. I stroked it with one hand, and then opened my mouth for it. He slowly moved the head in and out of my mouth, letting me fondle it with my tongue. Finally he said, "Let me share," and led me over to the bed. We lay on our sides, his cock by my mouth, his face between my legs. I felt a sudden surge of electricity when he licked my asshole, and I had to stop licking his balls when he slid a finger into my cunt. His tongue moved rapidly over my clit, strummed it almost, and he slid in another finger and then another. I felt so _full_. I lay there, one leg cocked so he could get at me, feeling a delightful orgasm build while he moved his fingers in and out. Then his thumb rested on my asshole and pressed and I came suddenly, flopping onto my back. Gil held me until it subsided and then he clambered around and kissed me again. I could taste myself, the heavy flavor I have when I'm fertile, and I kissed his face clean. Somehow during that he slipped his cock into me and I gasped as he filled me. We fucked gently: long slow strokes, his body on mine, our mouths glued together. I was full of his cock and his pelvis was a soft pressure on my clit. Eventually I couldn't wait any more and I told him so. "Harder." He picked up the pace. His hips slapped against mine and every thrust squeezed me so I grunted--"Uh. Uh. Uh! Uh! Uh uh uh UH!"--as I came, a wonderful floaty orgasm that suspended me in warm time. While I was still floating, Gil whispered, "Now," and his body clenched so he pulled on my shoulders while pushing himself into me, like I was a bowstring and he was the bow. His cock twitched several times and he sighed, almost hissing, as he relaxed.



His cock was still hard, so he continued to slide in and out of me for a few minutes until it softened. I held him tightly and we kissed some more. We lay there together for a while and then I looked at the clock--our breakfast meeting had lasted three and a half hours! "I have to get dressed," I told Gil. "I know," he said, but he didn't stop kissing me. I giggled and pushed him away. There was no awkwardness about parting, just the desire to meet again. I left him naked at the door. I felt so good, so sexual, I didn't mind the hassles that went with having sex with Paul. If he wanted sex tonight, I was willing. After all, it would keep me ready for next Monday.


The End
Spice16
www.bdsmfinder.com

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2 years ago
very good