As told by bored housewife and mother Sandy

Chapter One

I sometimes sit and reflect and consider what was the one thing — maybe the one event – that caused such a change in my life. I guess that some would suggest it was the sudden upgrade in our lifestyle and our overall way of life. A year ago, my husband Gary was headhunted by one of those executive search organisations to head up a new division for a large multi-national company.

Oh, it was so exciting for us because Gary’s annual income leapt enormously from a just comfortable $130,000 per annum to $400,000 plus share options and all of these additional perks. Like the membership of that exclusive country club. Oh dear, that’s it … that club, that was the catalyst for a lot of my problems.

Oh, I should tell you … my name is Sandy — well, actually I was christened Sandra, but everybody calls me Sandy. I was 40 then and Gary was 42. We married reasonably young, at 22 and 24 and our two children are now 17 and 15. I won’t tell you their names because they are not involved in my story and I don’t want to give any more clues as to who we really are. It would be so embarrassing if our friends or even Gary’s work associates and clients found out what I have been up to.

I know the name Sandy might imply a blonde beach babe, but nothing could be further from the truth. We don’t live anywhere near a beach and I am a redhead, always have been, no dyes have been through my hair. If I was asked to describe myself, the word that comes to mind would be attractive, and I say that with due modesty. I think that I was always a pretty girl growing up.

But Gary insists that I am beautiful, a compliment which I appreciate and that makes me feel good when I might have a down day. A few of my girlfriends tell me he’s right, so I will leave it to you — the reader — to form your own picture of me in your own minds. I am 5’7″ and I work out a fair bit to still maintain a good body now that I have reached 40. My breasts are 36-inch in the old numbers and they still retain a reasonable shape, even though the word perky would have been dispensed with back around the time I breast-fed both my boys.

By working out regularly, I have a 24-inch waist. What did they once call it … an hour-glass figure? Well, the bottom has blown out to 37. Could that be all the sex I’ve been getting? Oh dear, I am getting ahead of myself, talking about all the sex, so I best start back at the beginning of this chapter in my life … one year ago.

When Gary was headhunted for the new job, we did have a family discussion about it one night. I think it went for 5 minutes, and then, given the extraordinary rise in our family income, we all agreed that it was just too good to pass up. He did warn me — and the kids — that he might not be around as much. I guess Gary already knew that if a company was going to pay him $400,000 a year, they wanted their pound of flesh — and more.

At the end of the first week, Gary and I sat down after dinner to review how he felt about his new career path. Basically, he was still riding on cloud nine, so then he started to reel off the subsidiary perks of the job. “Honey, they have arranged a membership for both of us at the Elanora Country Club. They have suggested that a large number of our clients are members there and it will be beneficial for us to eat there at least two or three nights a week … on the expense account of course.”

“What about the kids?” was my first thought, “we insist to them that even as they grow older, we still like them to sit down with us for dinner as a family. Now we’re going to be telling them something different.”

“No, we can still eat as a family, maybe they can join us at the club for one of those nights, and on the other two, you could leave them something to heat up. They’ll obviously have homework to do, so it’s best they stay at home.”

“Oh I don’t know Gary, they’re at a vulnerable age, we don’t want to be pushing them away. We need to be around if they feel a need to talk … you know, about the temptations of drugs and bad girls and things.”

“Honey, we will see a lot of them, it’s just that we will have dinner out a few nights. I thought you’d be happy about that.”

“Oh I am, don’t get me wrong, not having to cook and stuff. I just don’t want to appear hypocritical to the kids, nor do I want them to think that we don’t care anymore, just because you’ve become this successful high-powered executive.”

“The other thing about being members of the country club is that the company want us to really get involved, play some sport. I’m going to play golf a lot more regularly than I did in the past … and I was thinking about tennis for you.”

“What?” looking back now, I guess I kind of screamed my surprise at him, “Gary, you know I’ve never been a sports person. Sure, I love to work out, a bit of jogging, sit on the bike, but as for hitting a ball around, you’d have to be joking.”

“They suggested that you should play something as well as me, because a lot of the wives of my clients are going to be into golf or tennis at the club.”

“Gary, who is this they that you keep referring to. Are they the high and mighty?”

“Well sort of, most of the time it’s the chairman of the board.”

“Well darling, you work for him, but I don’t, and I won’t be taking up tennis.”

“Honey you’re right of course, you don’t work for the company, but hear me out. Our lifestyle has just risen by over 200 per cent, and because you’re married to me, you are an immediate beneficiary of that. We can afford a better home, our humble Toyota family car is now yours because they’ve given me a new Mercedes. Because we’ll be eating out at the club half the week, that’s less time you’ll spend in the kitchen.”

“Darling, I see your point, but you must know how ridiculous that is, the thought of me playing some sort of ball sports.”

“I thought of golf at first, since I’m going to be playing that a lot, but I couldn’t really see you as a golfer. But tennis … how hard can that be? You’ve only got to hit the ball back over the net … and you can have lessons, as many as it takes. The club has a tennis pro, I checked it out already … in fact, two tennis pros ’cause the guy’s son now works with him.”

“I suppose you’ve already signed me up for these damn lessons?”

“No honey, I wouldn’t be that presumptuous, but I did go check it out with Chuck, that’s the tennis pro and he has a program for people who haven’t played before. So you can learn from scratch.”

I turned a pregnant pause into a very long silence where we both watched each other, perhaps waiting for the other to break. Eventually, I said reluctantly, “Oh okay, I will give it a try, but that’s all, no other guarantees at this stage. If I don’t like it or I can’t do it, then I’m giving it up.”

“Okay honey, but at least stick with it for a few weeks, don’t walk out after the first lesson. You being able to play a sport and to mix with members’ wives could be very important to us in my dealings with the clients we’ll meet at the club.”

So a week later, I found myself at the club, down by the tennis courts and knocking on the open door at the tennis pro shop. “Anyone here?” I called.

I peeped inside, it was a really small shop with a counter the only furniture. Around the walls there were tennis racquets of course, I assumed they were all for sale. Over to one side, on the left wall, there were racks of shoes that I would guess were specialist footwear for playing on a tennis court. I mean, at that stage, I didn’t know much about the sport.

Up on another wall, there was clothing … tees and shorts for the guys and dresses and skirts for the women, even some frilly underwear. They had a lot of tennis gear crammed into this tiny shop. I had stepped inside by now and on the counter I saw that there was a large diary open in which I guess the coaching bookings were listed. I read upside down and saw my name down in the 10am to 11am slot.

A guy appeared from behind a curtain that led to some other room behind the shop. I guessed it was probably a stock room. The man who emerged looked to fit the typical sports pro image to a tee. Tall, about 5’10″, well proportioned body with a six-pack stomach, he was wearing grey shorts and a striped collared tee shirt. His hair was what you would call sun-bleached, sort of blonde with dark bits through it. “Hi, I’m Chuck, you must be Sandy?”

My God, his name was Chuck … I had to stifle a laugh. He was right out of the book of stereotypes. I had always avoided his type, both in my early courting days when my girlfriends and I were assessing every guy we met as a future partner, and the lecherous ones in recent times who hung around my gym trying to hit on every woman — young or old.

“Hello Chuck, yes I’m Sandy and I have to warn you from the outset that I have never been into ball sports so you have a challenge on your hands.”

“Yes you did already tell me that on the phone. Well, we’ll see what we can do,” as he was saying that he was looking me up and down, just like a guy in a bar about to hit on a woman. “…but I can’t believe that an attractive sporty looking woman like yourself has never played with balls.”

He let his comment hang in the air and he supported it with a supercilious smile that suggested that I should draw some dirty insinuation from his blatant innuendo. I know his name is Chuck and he looks to be the typical jock, although an ageing one, but did he really expect me to draw a sexual connotation from his playing with balls comment?

I guessed that he could be around my age, especially given that Gary had mentioned that Chuck’s son was now a junior tennis pro at the club. So his son could be around our eldest boy’s age.

“No, I don’t think I have,” I told him, answering the playing with balls suggestion and immediately raising my defences.

“I find it hard to believe that you’ve led such a sheltered life. But just because you’ve never played with balls, that doesn’t mean you’re not gonna be good at it, particularly under my coaching. I’ve gotta say you look incredibly fit. If you don’t play sports, you must work out a lot.”

“Oh I do, have to keep my body trim.”

I felt a little uneasy as he looked me up and down again. “You’re succeeding at that Sandy, you look really great!”

I let the guard down just a little to accept the compliment, as we do, don’t we girls, “Thank you, you’re very kind.”

I knew that I wasn’t dressed appropriately for tennis. Unaware of what I should wear, I had worn my tight black lycra bike pants that I wear to the gym but with a frilly floral skirt over it to add a touch of modesty. On the top, I had a black tee shirt and I suddenly realised it had white writing across my chest that said, ‘Excellent Growth Potential.’ What on earth had caused me to put this one on this morning? Gary had bought it for me at a novelty tourist shop when we were on holidays last year. He picked that one because I rejected all the others there as being way too suggestive.

Wearing something like this in front of a stereotypical sports jock like Chuck was bound to draw comment. “Like your tee shirt too,” he said, “but I don’t know if you need any more growth in them, they look just fine, a pretty pair of handfuls just the way they are.”

I felt my face flush, “I don’t normally wear this when I go out, I don’t know what possessed me today. It’s probably very inappropriate for this club,” I told him, trying to ignore his handful comment.

“Don’t worry about it Sandy, I love it. Yes, there are probably a few wealthy dowagers here that wouldn’t see the fun in it, but they need to just chill out.”

He came around from behind the counter and stepped up close to me … a bit too close, I felt that he was invading my space and I took a step back in response.

“We better get started, I’m on the clock from now, so I don’t want to waste your money. We’ll go out and have a hit and see how much work needs to be done and then when we come in, I’ll suggest that you might like to have a look through our clothing range. This stuffy old club likes the members to dress appropriately.”

“Believe me, I’ll never wear this tee shirt again, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Babe, don’t fret the small stuff, what I meant was that we should get you outfitted in some attractive tennis gear. You’re gonna look great out there and that’s the first part. If you look good, you feel good and then it doesn’t matter if you can’t play for shit.”

“I don’t even have a racquet.”

“That’s okay, not only have I got the balls, I’ve brought the racquets too.”

Good God, was he still trying those corny double entendre ball lines? I ignored it again and fell in beside him as he left the shop carrying two racquets. I was curious that he didn’t actually have any balls that I could see. But when we got to the court, it became obvious that he uses this particular court for practice regularly. There were balls scattered everywhere.

“Come and stand here to start, you won’t have to run far because I’ll hit the balls straight to either side of you. I want you to turn your body and bring the racquet around like this. Watch the ball all the way onto the racquet.”

He demonstrated how he wanted me to hit the ball and I thought to myself, ‘Yeah right, like that’s gonna happen.’

The first two balls that he hit to me I missed completely with air swings, but my racquet actually connected with the third one although it ended up in the net. “Woo hoo, that was great!” he shouted to me encouragingly. It actually made me feel good that I had achieved something that until today I had thought would be impossible. So I buckled down and hit two of the next three, one even going over the net and back to somewhere near Chuck.

We did some hitting for about 10 minutes and then he went away to get a machine that sat in the corner of the court. He wheeled it over and positioned it where he had previously been standing on the other side of the net. Then Chuck came around to my side and walked right up to me. Talk about his being in my space as I had suggested before … this time, he stepped around behind me and almost fitted himself to my body from behind. His right arm came around my right arm and he placed his hand over mine on the racquet.

I felt quite threatened by the press of his body so intimately close to mine. No man other than Gary had been this close to me in the 18 years of my marriage. I needed to challenge why he had to be so close, “Do we have to do this … like this I mean?”

“Sure … why, does it make you feel uncomfortable? It shouldn’t you know. I am very professional, this is the way all tennis coaches teach a new player how to grip the racquet and swing into the ball.”

“If I had a teenage daughter, you wouldn’t be teaching her this way.”

“Do you feel that its sexual, Sandy?

My body fidgeted around, unable to stay still with the shape of him moulded up against me. I could feel the front of his muscular body in contact with the back of me almost everywhere from head to toe. I was probably even pushing my hips out in front, just to keep my arse from pushing back against his pelvis.

“Err, sort of … what I mean is, it could be construed as sexual.” I looked across at the other courts and up at the club balcony where members and their guests were sipping their morning coffees. “I mean, I wonder what those people would think, looking over here and seeing us standing like this.”

“Well babe, they see it every day when I’m coaching. But tell me, are you more worried about how it looks to others than how it feels to you?”

“Err, I don’t know … yes maybe … yes, how it might look, that does worry me.”

“If it’s more about appearances to you, then does that mean you’re okay about how this feels.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth please Chuck.”

“There’s something special I’d like to put in your mouth,” he mumbled quietly. I wasn’t sure if he intended for me to hear that.

“Chuck, you are extremely close to overstepping the mark here,” I warned him. “I should point out that I am not to be your latest plaything … I am only here to learn to play tennis, so how about we get on with that?”

Still standing tightly up against my back, he called out loudly, “Mark!” and almost from nowhere this young man who looked only about 18 or 19 suddenly appeared at the other end of the court. There was a strong resemblance to Chuck and I guessed that this must be the son that Gary had mentioned. Mark was a very good looking young man … his hair was all blonde, he had a great tan and was muscular without looking like a body builder. I could imagine that he would be a winner with the teenage girls that came to the club with their parents.

Mark took up a position at the machine, which turned out to be a ball distributor. It fired tennis balls just to my right much the same way that Chuck had, only this time Chuck was on my side of the net, guiding my arm and my hand on the racquet to hit back every ball that came at me. He was very good at teaching me how to swing the racquet, but I still felt awkward that his powerful male body continued to make contact with my back and my arse and my legs.

I was so self consciously aware of his pelvis pressing against my arse. I could now feel the bulge of a cock there and each time I swung the racquet he pressed it against me, and I brought my lower body forward to try to escape his carnal touch. That in turn so distracted me that I missed each ball that came at me whenever I felt that bulge against my arse cheeks.

“You have to concentrate more,” he sounded almost exasperated that I was still missing hitting balls even with his hand on mine on the racquet.

“I am distracted by how close you are to me, I am not used to having a strange man in my space.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” he asked and to my relief, I felt him step back away from me, his hand coming off my hand on the racquet. “You just try hitting them on your own.”

You guessed it, I didn’t hit many, leading him to say after I had missed six in a row, “Do you see now why I teach the way I do? At this stage on day one, you cannot hit the ball without my helping hand.”

I was indignant that he would try to blame me now, “I might be better if it was only your hand trying to help me.”

“What are you suggesting Sandy?

“You know very well what I’m talking about,” I told him as I turned around to confront him, unintentionally stepping into the path of the balls coming from the machine. I felt one hit me hard on my arse cheek. “Ow!” I squealed, “that hurt!”

Chuck reached out to pull me from the path of the fired balls before another hit me. “That could bruise,” he suggested, “would you like me to kiss it better? I am told that a man’s kiss on a bruise on the soft skin of a lady’s arse works wonders … clears it up in no time.”

“You never stop trying, do you?”

“Go on, you like it, all women do. Don’t take offence, it’s just a bit of harmless flirting. I do it with all of my women clients because they all love it. I’ve never met a woman yet who took offence at it.”

“You might just have met that woman, Chuck. You don’t appeal to me, you with all your sexual innuendo and your super-confident ‘I can have any woman I want’ attitude. This is one woman that doesn’t want to melt in your arms, to succumb to your double entendre one-liners.”

“Well, I have to consider myself dressed down by my new client … but hey, that sounds like the perfect challenge to me.”

“Don’t waste your time. Now, do you want to just teach me to play tennis or will I take up golf instead?”

“Oh shit, don’t do that, the golf pro Ed is worse than me. I’m into just a bit of harmless flirting, but he would have your panties off before you’ve completed the first three holes and be in your first hole before the fourth.”

I was not liking Chuck’s constant obsession with sex nor his crass descriptions. I paused and considered turning on my heels and getting out of there. I was pretty sure that I could express my concerns strongly enough to Gary that he would condone my dropping out of tennis lessons. But then I thought that my husband might insist that I had to do one or the other. If so, golf lessons with Ed might be worse than tennis lessons, that is if lecher Chuck is to be believed.

“Can you give me a minute?” I asked and Chuck nodded, withdrawing to give me a moment on the court on my own. He went around the net to talk quietly to his son. I guessed that I might be the topic of their conversation.

I wrestled with making a decision on whether to drop the tennis lessons. I wouldn’t miss it, but I knew that Gary would be very disappointed in me. He had even said not to give it away after only one lesson. I resolved to try a bit harder. “Okay Chuck,” I called to him, “let’s try and make this work.”

The club tennis pro came back around the net, approaching me. I continued, “But now that you know how I feel, can you just try and respect me and my feelings? I love my husband and I am not interested in having a little bit on the side … or whatever you call it these days.”

“You got it babe, I’ll be on my best behaviour and we’ll make a good tennis player out of you yet.”

I smiled at him for the first time.

“That’s better, love your smile,” he said, “you should smile a lot more … you’re a very beautiful woman, you know.”

“No I don’t know that,” I retorted.

“Well you should, because you are. Now let’s see if I can get my hard-on to go down and I’ll set about teaching you to play tennis.”

My smile turned into a glare, “See what I mean, you can’t help yourself. Just get it into your head that I am not in the least interested in your erections.”

Ignoring my glare, he told me defiantly, “Yeah, but it’s only early days. I told you I like challenges.”

I resumed my position on the court and waited expectantly for Mark to start firing balls out of the machine again. Undaunted by my previous comments, Chuck moved in behind me again. However, this time I knew what to expect and I forced myself not to come across too prim and proper. After all, it was only a tennis lesson out in the middle of a very public court. There was no opening in my bike pants for him to force that hard-on through. I convinced myself that I had complete control of the situation.

But as I felt that bulge in his shorts push itself up against one of my lycra-covered arse cheeks, I did for the first time wonder if that would always be the case. I couldn’t see why not! When I first became interested in boys, and right up until Gary swept me off my feet, I had seen a lot of Chuck’s type. He fitted such a pattern … considered himself something of a jock, super confident that he could have any woman that crossed his path.

Gary was the complete opposite of Chuck. Quiet, reserved, very intelligent and quite intellectual. An unkind person might categorise him as a nerd, but I would rather label that as studious. None of that stopped him from being very loving and he had certainly kept me satisfied and content for all these years. I might have wondered from time to time what other guys would be like, but I doubt that I had ever contemplated doing anything that might jeopardise our good marriage. Chuck was certainly not the type that you would want to risk everything over.

The bulge in front of his pelvis that continued to brush against my arse was definitely bigger now than it had been when he had made that first tentative contact that I had tried desperately to avoid. Nevertheless, I had laid out what I considered were now the ground rules and we continued the lesson with me conscious that his erection was constantly there and he was suitably put in his place. At least that’s the way I looked at it.

Chuck continued to use his technique of fitting the front of his body to the back of mine whenever he wanted to demonstrate the way that I should swing the racquet or to volley … and when he taught me the differences of playing a backhand shot.

We eventually got through the hour. I had worked up quite a sweat and the lycra bike pants felt like they were sticking to me. I was eager to get them off but I hadn’t brought a change of clothes, so I would have to wait until I got home to shower.

Chuck and I returned to his little shop. “Now Sandy, can I interest you in some of our range of tennis dresses and skirts. I guess those sneakers are okay, but you might prefer tennis shoes. Then there’s the matter of a racquet for you.”

“Yes, I guess I will need all of that stuff, but I might leave that until I come next time. I really do have to get away quickly now.”

“Can I book you in for your next lesson?”

“Err … yes, I guess so,” I was hesitating, several times through this first lesson I had contemplated walking out on the deal. But at least, after I had told him that his approach didn’t get to me, he did mellow, so I might give him another chance. “Chuck, Thursday’s good for me, what time have you got?”

“Only the afternoon on Thursday, say about 2, is that alright with you?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” I told him and I quickly departed. I began to feel better when I was away on my own once more. He had an intimidating presence about him and it seemed like he enjoyed getting into my space.

I got back to my car and sat down behind the wheel. My bike pants felt clammy and I lifted up the loose frilly skirt that I had used as a modesty garment over them. I looked down at my crotch and thighs, fortunately the pants were black because they were quite wet between the tops of my thighs. I had assumed that it was sweat, but when I touched my fingers to my crotch, it struck me that it could be my own feminine juices leaking out of me. What would have caused that to happen in the middle of a tennis lesson? Could it actually have been the unwanted contact of Chuck’s erection against my arse?

I sat in my car seat with my legs spread and my fingers swiping at the dampness within my crotch. It actually became a slight rubbing of my fingers over my crotch because they felt nice at this time. A tapping on my car window startled me back to reality. I looked up and there was Chuck’s face at the window, right alongside me. Embarrassed to be caught by Chuck with my fingers at my crotch, my face flushed but it seemed to take ages before I retrieved my fingers and pressed the button to lower the window. “What, what is it?” I gasped in annoyance as I attempted to recover my dignity.

“You left your handbag on the counter,” Chuck told me as he handed it to me through the car window with a knowing grin that indicated how he interpreted the scene he had just come across. I expect that he would think that I had been using my fingers to seek relief from the arousal I must have felt at having been so near to him. I sat there for awhile pondering how I could possibly return for more lessons. Chapter Two

Gary and I had become very honest with each other over 18 years of marriage. We told each other everything, neither had any reason to hold anything back. I recall him telling me when there was a particular PA at work who came on to him. That’s how honest we were with each other. He would come home nightly during that period and relate the latest tale of how she flaunted herself to him or dropped tempting implications. Nothing ever came of that and eventually the young woman moved on.

Similarly, a few of Gary’s less close and loyal friends would occasionally hit on me, usually at a party we might attend. I would always tell Gary afterward and we would have a great chuckle over their feeble attempts. Gary and I were just that sort of couple, we loved each other and saw nothing in anyone else to tempt us from the path.

For that reason, I cannot to this day fathom why when Gary came home that night and asked, “Honey, how did your first tennis lesson go?” my answer did not seem to come from the thoughts that summed up the day.

Without having pre-considered my answer, I just said, “Oh not bad darling, by the end of the hour, I was at least hitting the ball back over the net most of the time.”

Gary laughed, “That’s good because isn’t that the objective of the game?”

“Yes it is! Oh by the way, I might have to give the credit card a bit of a bash, I need to wear the right clothes to play tennis, and of course I’ll need a racquet.”

“You’ve got the new card the company gave us, haven’t you? Use that because anything to do with the country club is a business expense. So how was the pro, did you get on well with him?”

Okay, now this was my chance, I would have expected me to say, ‘He pissed me off actually, bit on himself, kept making suggestive comments, you know, sexual ones and he rubbed his cock up against my arse, it felt at least half erect. I can tell you I wasn’t happy with him, thought of complaining to the club about him.’

Yes, that’s what I would have said in all the 18 years of our marriage … surely! But I surprised even myself when these words came out of my mouth, “He’s very good at what he does, a bit cocky, but I guess that goes with the territory. He says I’ll need about 10 lessons until I’m at the point where I could play against other club members’ wives and not embarrass you.”

So where did that come from? True, the words came out of my mouth, but they weren’t words I would have used a few hours ago, like when I was driving home from the club feeling humiliated that Chuck had seen me with my fingers at my crotch. Especially too given the manner in which he had talked to me and the suggestive body contact with his erection rubbing up against my arse.

So what had changed during the afternoon as I reflected on my day? Well, I guess for a start, I came home, rolled down my bike pants and stepped into the shower. And while the warm water cascaded down over my body, my fingers went to my naturally already-wet clitoris and brought myself to a shuddering orgasm that left me standing shakily in the shower stall on very wobbly legs.

Getting myself off was not a regular occurrence for me, maybe a couple of times a year. I didn’t normally feel the need because Gary was quite an attentive husband and usually managed to make me orgasm during sex. So was it that secret sexual encounter under the shower that caused me to tell my husband a pasteurised homogenised version of how my tennis lesson had gone?

Thursday came and I even found myself quite excited at the prospect of seeing Chuck and having my second lesson. I still couldn’t understand myself. This man was the type that I had always avoided, the type that I would send packing when they had tried to hit on me when I was single.

After I showered, this time without the additional benefits, I put on a bra and panties that were among my slinkiest lingerie, not the type that one might normally wear for sport, but I didn’t think of that at the time. I ran my hands over my arse, feeling the silky touch of the material on my arse cheeks. Then I went through most of the slacks in my wardrobe trying to find a pair that replicated that silky feel when they were over my sexy panties.

None did, so I got to the club 15 minutes before my lesson and went straight to the pro shop. Chuck was behind the counter eating lunch. “Oh hi Sandy, you’re early.”

“Yes I know, on purpose. I couldn’t find anything appropriate in my wardrobe that said tennis gear, so I figured I could buy a dress to wear from today on.”

Chuck’s smile broadened, “Great, let’s find you something that compliments your beauty.”

I blushed, “Oh don’t say that, you’ll embarrass me.”

“No, it’s true, you are a very beautiful woman. Now, over here we should have something that will work for you. I’m thinking pink or sky blue.”

I picked out a sky blue dress that really appealed to me. “Is there a change room here?”

“Err, not actually, we generally use the back of the stock room behind the curtain, if you don’t mind.”

Chuck pulled the curtain aside and led me back into a room no bigger than the tiny shop out front. There were boxes of stock piled high, but back behind them there was a couch and a mirror on the wall beside it. “Here you go!”

I paused beside the couch and waited for Chuck to retreat back into the shop. For a moment, it looked like Chuck intended to stay while I stripped down to my sexy panties and bra to try on the dress, but eventually he realised that I wouldn’t start with him there. I looked around me at the cluttered little room and hoped that he didn’t have any hidden camera set up. I don’t know why that thought came to me, maybe just that he kind of oozed sleaze.

I dropped my slacks and lifted my blouse over my head and stood a moment or two to admire my still shapely body, wearing the silky lingerie, in the mirror. I might be 40, I thought, but I can still turn a few male heads. I even half turned so I could check out my arse in the mirror. Then I began to wonder about my selection of lingerie for my second lesson. It was hardly appropriate to wear under a tennis dress that I was about to try on. I mean, the dress would barely cover my crotch. I had seen enough snippets of tennis on TV to know that the dresses flew up when the women played and the viewer could often see their panties.

Continuing to check myself out, I became concerned that I was coming on a bit strong. Looking in the mirror, I could see that from behind, my silky panties were transparent enough for the indentation between my arse cheeks to show through as a dark line. And from the front, the silky material had caught in the lips of my pussy. Gary had once told me what they called that … oh yes, a camel toe.

Even the material of the bra that I wore was see-through and I could easily make out my stiffened nipples. Good God, why were they aroused? Oh well, at least the top of the tennis dress I had picked was not see-through.

I put the dress on and liked it immediately. I wore it back out into the shop, “Yes, this is good, I’ll take it.”

“Great!” said Chuck and then pointed to a chair, “I’ve picked out some tennis shoes and a pair of socks, you might want to try them on.”

I sat down and began to remove my sneakers. Then, just like you would expect to see in any shoe shop, Chuck dropped to his knees directly in front of me and began to prepare the new shoes for me to slip my feet into. ‘This could be a bit embarrassing,’ I thought, ‘in this short dress, any movement of my legs as I shift my feet in and out of the shoes will reveal my silky panties and the camel toe.’

I purposely locked my eyes onto his, watching every movement of his eyes, silently telling him that I would know if he dared to steal a peek between my thighs. But I had disregarded how sexually forward this man was, he had no shame, he was blatantly sexual and didn’t care if his target woman knew that.

Chuck pulled the laces back until there was an easy opening for me to slip my right foot into the right shoe. Then he lifted my leg up high and placed the foot in the shoe on his left shoulder. “There you go,” he said, “you can tie the laces yourself, make them as tight or loose as you need for comfort.”

His move had taken me by surprise because by placing my foot on his shoulder, my bent knee was raised up higher than his eye level and he could easily see clearly in between my parted legs … one thigh flat on the chair but the other raised at an angle. What’s more, it didn’t matter that I had locked my eyes on his, watching every move they made, because his eyes were brazenly staring directly at my crotch. There was no pretence on his part of stealing furtive glances as most guys might do, hoping that I wouldn’t notice. I did think of dropping my hand down to cover my crotch but then because he wanted me to tie my own laces, I needed both hands free for that.

My second tennis lesson hadn’t even started yet and again, I was feeling sexually assaulted, just like on that first day when he rubbed his cock against my arse cheeks while standing tightly behind me, allegedly to instruct me in how to hit the ball.

As I began to tighten and then tie the laces, I watched his eyes staring intently into my crotch where I was covered — if you could call it that — by panties so flimsy that he must surely be able to make out the line of my pussy lips. I had earlier noted the camel toe when I looked in the mirror. He would be ale to see that, make out the outline of those lips down there. Oh God, what had I been thinking to wear lingerie like that to a tennis lesson. What sort of message did it send him? Obviously the wrong message, I noted, as my eyes dropped and saw the bulge in his shorts as he knelt on the floor in front of me. Had I done that, did I cause his erection by what he could see or was he already horny before I arrived?

I finished tying the laces on one of my new tennis shoes and said, “Done!” Chuck lifted the foot off his shoulder but then raised the other to the other shoulder, only momentarily looking up at me before his eyes zeroed in once more on my revealing crotch. I tightened and tied those laces as quickly as I could and put my raised foot back flat on the floor, ending his side-show.

“How do they feel?” he asked.

I stood up and walked around a little, “They’re good, I think you picked the size in one.”

“I get pretty good at it after a while,” he said, “working out the right sizes of a woman, that is. You might have thought that I meant the other thing, I’ve always been good at that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, annoyed that he was becoming sexually confronting again, given my harsh words to him the other day.

“I think you do, you know what it’s all about … it’s a game with women, particularly in a wealthy country club like this.”

“It’s not a game with me, the only game I am interested in is playing tennis.”

He gave me a long lingering look that scared me. The way he looked at me, I thought for a moment he was going to whisk me back through the curtain, back to that couch in the stock room. He seemed to have a lustful look in his eyes.

Instead, he picked up two racquets, “Well then, we better get to it then,” and he headed out the door of the shop, “Come on, I need to teach you some more stuff.”

I lingered behind for a moment. When I was sure that he had left and I was on my own, I slipped one hand down under the tennis dress and swiped my fingers into that camel toe crease in my panties. Sure enough, my worst fears were realised, they were quite wet, it could only be from my juices again. How embarrassing was that? When he stared at my crotch, he could probably see the dampness, but what’s worse, his face was so close down there that he might have smelt the aroma of sex around me. I held my own fingers up under my nose and sure enough, I could smell me now.

We had another full hour on the court. Thankfully, he didn’t stand up close behind me this time. He was across the net from me and we actually played some tennis, hitting it back and forth although not keeping score. He made me run around more than the first day by not always hitting back to where I stood. I guessed that he might be doing that so that I would run and stretch for the ball and my dress would fly up, revealing those silky panties.

When the hour was over, I collapsed into a courtside chair. “I thought you were fit,” Chuck said, “I mean, you work out don’t you?”

“Yes I do, and I thought I was fit too, but you ran me ragged out there. Oh God, I’m bushed.”

“Better get some fluids into you,” he suggested, but then couldn’t help himself from turning his remark into something crass, “I can think of some fluid I’d like to get into you, but we better just settle on water for now.”

“You never stop, do you? Even after I told you the other day that I have no interest in a sports jock like you, you still keep on.”

“That’s just me, what you see is what you get.” Chuck was even blatant enough to punctuate his words by using one hand to grasp a hold of the bulge in his shorts, “It’s the whole package.”

“Well, not for me thanks.”

He left the court and I followed him to the pro shop. I put my racquet down on the chair I had used before. Chuck had slipped behind the curtain, but quickly reappeared holding up two garments for me to see. I quickly realised that it was a bra and a pair of panties that you would only wear to play tennis. They had frills all across the arse part but they were certainly more demure than what I was wearing today.

“I would like to give you these to go with your new outfit,” he said, holding them out to me.

“Give me, what do you mean give me? I don’t want your gifts, I’ll pay for them if they suit me.”

“No you won’t, I didn’t have to pay for them so I am giving them to you. The manufacturer leaves me samples from time to time, these are samples, they didn’t cost me anything.”

“What’s the catch?” I asked, knowing that there had to be one.

“Only that you model them for me, go back to the stock room and put them on and show me how they fit. I just need to see how they look, how snug they fit, on one of our players so I can recommend the range to others.”

“I guess you want to see them without the tennis dress on?”

“Yes of course, I have to check the way they fit, whether the panties are snug at the crotch, and whether the bra cups can hold the breasts securely. You’re quite a large woman in that area.”

“No thanks, I’ll buy something appropriate.”

“I only thought of offering them to you because you have such a great set…”

“Are you referring to my breasts?”

“Yeah, they’re great tits … a real handful! But they will be uncomfortable when you play tennis if you don’t have a sports bra. That one you have on today didn’t support them at all. They just bounced around all the time.”

“I bet you liked that!”

“I did as a matter of fact, loved to see them moving, but I’m only thinking of you and your comfort. And I am hesitant to say this, but your panties today … I mean, I loved them and they would be so appropriate if I was stripping them off your body for foreplay. But as underwear for tennis, it would upset the establishment here if you were to wear them on the court, a bit too sexy for this place.”

“I appreciate your concern for me,” I told him with a degree of sarcasm dripping off my comment. “I will take your advice but I will pay for anything that I need to wear, underwear included.”

“The offer still stands, take them,” and Chuck thrust the garments into my hands, “but just remember, you can’t wear them on the court until you have modelled them for me. I can wait until you’re ready.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time, they will be staying in my drawer at home,” I answered defiantly.

I kept my new tennis dress and my sexy panties on until Gary came home from work. I showed off my new sports ensemble and he looked like he approved. But we had to wait until after dinner, until our boys had adjourned to their rooms to do their homework. Then I lured Gary into our bedroom much earlier in the night than usual and jumped his bones. I was the aggressor, pushing him down on the bed and sitting astride his body. I slipped my damp silky panties off and dangled them above his face before dropping them over his nose. I heard him sigh when he breathed in my aroma deeply.

He looked like he approved when I reached down between my thighs and guided his upright cock to the opening of my vagina. There was no need to wait for foreplay, I had been constantly wet all day, ever since the tennis lesson. I raised my body up then lowered it down over the head of his vertical shaft, taking it into my body. I watched a smile of contentment come over Gary’s face as my vagina engulfed his cock.

I was completely wild and uninhibited and I managed to hit my peak quickly and get myself off before I slammed my body down over and over again on his erection. Until Gary could hold back no longer and he came inside me violently, painting my insides with a spray of cum that did this 42-year-old man proud.

“Wow, what got into you?” he asked when we both came down from our sexual high.

“I’d say you just did,” I told him with a broad and satisfied smile — and an innuendo that would have done Chuck proud.

“I know that, but what caused you to take control like that … to be on top? I can’t recall the last time you did that.”

I couldn’t answer him. Of course, I wouldn’t want to tell him that even after only 2 lessons, Chuck and I were embroiled in some sort of sexual by-play where he would be constantly suggestive and I would try to rebuff him and play hard-to-get. No, I couldn’t tell him that because besides it giving Gary the thought that I might one day cheat on him, I really didn’t know myself why I was letting this little sexual charade with Chuck continue.

So instead of introducing the spectre of Chuck and his sleazy come-on lines into our marriage, I simply said, “Darling, I felt so good after my tennis lesson today, with my new gear and all, that I felt like giving you a sexual treat tonight. Just to show you how much I am enjoying our new lifestyle.”

“That’s great honey, because I was really concerned that the upheaval of change that we’re going through with my new job might affect our marriage, could see you unhappy … and I don’t want that. I am happy when I see you happy … just keep doing what you’re doing, it’s working.”

Oh dear me, don’t give me that advice (keep doing what I’m doing) because I wasn’t sure what I was doing. But whatever it was, I was worried that I was getting myself into something that I may not be able to handle. I still couldn’t plausibly explain to myself why I hadn’t been truthful with Gary about the way that Chuck behaved on our first lesson. Chapter Three

Another day and another lesson! Chuck started out teaching me how to serve the ball. Toss it up high and then bring the racquet through hard sending the ball over the net and into the opposite court. This man — this jock — was so unsubtle that after he had shown me what to do, he lay down on the court behind me … he said it was so he could assess my every serve.

But he hadn’t chosen that unusual position just to judge my serving. From where he lay, Chuck could see my tennis dress fly up almost to my waist every time I reached up to serve the ball. He could see the white cotton panties that I wore today, a snug fit encasing my arse. I was glad that I had worn the white cotton and not anything as revealing as the silky panties I had worn last time.

“Getting a good view down there?” I asked with exasperation after about 10 minutes.

“A perfect view, I just love it. Have I told you that you’ve got a great arse.”

“No you haven’t so far, only that I’ve got good breasts. I thought you were supposed to be checking on my ability to serve the ball.”

“From down here I can do both, and why wouldn’t I … you’ve still got a great figure. You’re gonna make some of the other wives jealous around here, particularly when you start wearing the panties and bra I gave you. Are you ready to show me what they look like without the dress yet?”

“Certainly not!” I was as emphatic as I could be so he wasn’t left with some lingering hope that I might relent.

I stepped over near to his supine body and reached forward to pick up another ball to serve. He admonished me, “Didn’t I tell you before, when you’re picking up a ball, bend over away from me.”

“Why, so that you can check out my arse?”

“Of course, what do you think I’m here for. Even in those plain cotton panties, I can still make out the dark shadow of the crease of your arse … it is so sexy.”

I looked back down at him, stretched out on the back of the court, and my eyes scanned over his body. The bulge in his shorts was quite obvious now and I wondered if it was a result of his being able to see the shape of my arse in my cotton panties every time I served the ball. He watched my eyes and quickly pounced on my reaction, “Aren’t you tempted to at least have a good look at it? You can if you want, anytime you’re ready.”

I knew exactly what he was referring to. “No, not tempted at all, I am quite happy with what I’ve got at home.”

“You would be a rare woman these days if you didn’t think about what another man might have, to look at the shape, just like you were doing then, and wonder what that one would look like. More importantly, wonder what another man’s would feel like inside of you. We’re all different you know, every man brings something different to the bed, thick, thin, long, short, some have better technique, really know what to do with it to make a woman happy. Then there’s tongues and fingers, so much variation, I hope you’re getting all that, but I bet you’re not … not this far into a marriage. My cock’s thick, very thick, Sandy. I’m no longer than the average man, but I’m told that my thickness is something special. That’s what women have told me.”

“Lots of women I suppose?” annoyed that he was again being so suggestive in spite of my warning on day one.

“I do alright … as I’m suggesting to you, most women these days like to see what else is around, I reckon that more than half of those that start looking around will give one a try. You’re already looking so you’re halfway there.”

“I am not looking,” I interrupted defiantly.

“You were checking me out, looking at the size and shape.”

“Yeah, like it was still in your shorts.”

“Doesn’t have to be, I told you, you can have a close look anytime you want. Remember the thickness I told you about, you’re missing a real treat if you don’t try it.”

“So what is the incentive for me to risk my marriage, to risk everything I have? What, just the fact that you’re thicker than most and I am expected to enjoy that.”

“I am just laying it out there Sandy, telling you what most other women are doing, at least in the country club set. They’re getting something special on the side. If you’re going to do that, it’s best that you get it from some guy who really knows what he’s doing, one who can make it special for you.”

It seemed that he was elevating his approach to the next level, he had now progressed to openly propositioning me to have sex with him. I obviously hadn’t been firm enough on that first day when I told him I didn’t want to hear his sexual double entendres. Now it was day three, I didn’t think that’s what I wanted, but there was just a glimmer of doubt in my mind. I needed to steer it back to fit within my strict moral code, but first I had to ask myself the question: what could Chuck give me — do for me — that Gary couldn’t — and hadn’t?

I turned back to resume serving practice and Chuck continued to blatantly lay there behind me, watching the movement of my arse cheeks in those cotton panties as I exerted myself tossing the ball up and following through with the racquet. I could only imagine what it must look like and what it must be doing to his libido.

At the end of the session, we walked off the court alongside each other and strolled back to the pro shop. I expected that he might resume applying the pressure on me but he just opened up his diary, “So when can I pencil you in for?”

“Let’s go for Thursday next week.”

“Okay, I’ve got 11 to 12, are you good with that.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

I left without any further discussion between us. He had already left me a lot to consider. As I walked through the clubhouse, I looked curiously at each woman, wondering which were the 50% or more having sex outside their marriage. That’s if Chuck’s assessment was correct. Was he being factual or spinning a tale just to get into my panties?

Instead of heading straight back to my car when I left the clubhouse, I detoured past the golf pro shop, just to check out Ed, the golf pro. What was it that Chuck had said about Ed? ‘He would have your panties off before you’ve completed the first three holes and be in your first hole before the fourth.’

I stepped into the golf pro shop, it was a similar small set-up just like the tennis pro shop. The guy behind the counter was cut from the exact same mould as Chuck. He was a bit taller, muscular without overdoing it, but bulging biceps, flat stomach … I couldn’t see his legs. “Can I help you?” he asked warmly, a big warm smile on his face.

“No thanks, just looking around.”

“You look like a new member to me, can I show you around?”

“No, I’m fine,” and I got away quickly before famous Ed talked me into playing a few holes and getting my panties off.

I thought about Chuck’s comments a lot … as I was driving home, then when I sat down on my patio to have a late lunch.

That night, when Gary arrived home, he led with, “You had another tennis lesson today, didn’t you? How did it go, still enjoying it?”

Here was my chance, I could open up to Gary, tell him what a sleaze ball sports jock Chuck was, relate how he lay on the court behind me so he could look up my dress. But even as the thoughts of how to verbalise it were forming in my brain, my mouth was already in gear, telling my husband, “It was great Gary, he had me serving balls today. I am really getting quite good at it.”

“That’s fabulous honey, I am so pleased that you’ve taken to it. And this Chuck’s a good teacher?”

“Yes, a bit on himself.” Go on, now is my chance, tell him what I mean by that. But instead, I added with syrup, “but overall he’s an okay guy, good at what he does.”

“That’s great honey,” Gary’s voice was fading, like he had lost interest in the topic already. For just a moment, I wondered if he had heard a whisper around the club about Chuck’s reputation for women. Maybe Gary was testing me, to see how much I would reveal about the tennis coach. Chapter Four

Thursday was my next lesson. I loved wearing my new tennis dress, I felt really good in it. But I was still wearing the white cotton panties beneath. I would have liked to wear the special tennis panties with the frills and the sports bra for support, but I wasn’t about to take the bold next step with Chuck and model them for him.

We actually played a mock set of tennis (first to six games) now that I could serve as well as hit the ball back — well at least some of the time. I was quite exhausted when we had finished the set and slumped into the courtside chair. So predictably, Chuck dropped down to sit on the ground, positioning himself directly in front of me, his eyes level once more with my crotch. When I saw where he was looking, I brought my legs back together tightly.

He lifted his eyes to look up at mine, “That looks so uncomfortable, clenching your legs together like that, Just relax, let yourself go … you’re stuffed from the hard set, you let it all spread out when you sat down. Don’t tense up on my account.”

“But you’re always looking, I can never relax. You’re either peeping at my cleavage or staring up my dress, in front and behind.”

“You should be flattered that I find you so beautiful that I want to do those things, you look great from every angle. That’s just me, I am a very sexual person.”

“Would you call yourself an addict … a sex addict I mean?”

He paused to think about that for a moment, which was unusual, Chuck stumped for an answer. “I guess I might.”

While he was pausing, I relaxed my legs, letting them spread wider, the way they were when I first sat down in the courtside chair. It didn’t take him long to notice, and now he was not looking at me as we continued talking. His eyes were zeroed in at my crotch.

I continued on my assessment of him as a sex addict, “I think you are because you talk about it at every opportunity. Even when I was on my first day! You would think that you would let a new client get comfortable to start with, before bringing on all the sex talk, all the innuendo. But you, you’re just full on from day one. I guess you get quite a few that get swept up in it and say yes because you’re so forward.”

“I get my share, but I always feel the need to try … the one that I don’t hit on is the one that I’ll never get. A lot of women in this club have time on their hands and they’ve been married long enough that they only get it at home once a week from hubby. I put it out there for them — and you … a chance to live out a fantasy, a man who doesn’t require any commitment, but who can make them feel like a queen every time he fucks them.”

There it was, he had crossed the final boundary, now using the word fuck to me.

“What about precautions … STD’s and pregnancy?”

“I’m very careful, I keep it clean. And the women should look after birth control themselves, that’s not my responsibility.”

“That’s not my point, what if you go with a woman whose husband has been at it with prostitutes and the like. He gets something from them, passes it on to her, she gives it to you, and next thing, you’re giving it to every woman you…” I paused unsure whether to use his word for it, then went with it, “…fuck.”

“Doesn’t happen, not with the women I choose, they’re all clean skins.”

“I don’t see how you could know that for sure.” Without consciously being aware of what I was doing, I looked down to see that my legs were moving, from side to side … maybe it was nerves because of the subject matter. But the effect of their movement was that I was virtually flashing him where he sat on the ground, my thighs opening and closing to show the vee of my cotton panties. Damn, the crotch was probably wet again too.

Chuck came back at me, “I am pleased that you have progressed the prospect of whether we will fuck to the point now where you are checking whether I will use a condom on you.”

I sat bolt upright at his suggestion, clenching my legs tightly together again, “I suggested no such thing. There you go again, trying to put words in my mouth. I was simply curious whether you ever caught anything from the high number of women that you claim to sleep with.”

“That’s something I don’t do much of. The last thing that these women want from me is to have a quiet relaxing sleep. I give them enough orgasms to do their sleeping when they get home,” he boasted proudly, so cock sure of himself.

“How many women would you have in a week?” Curiosity brought me back down from the high dudgeon I felt when he suggested that I was checking on whether he would use a condom on me.

“I think the record’s six, different women that is,” he said gloating. “But sometimes only one or two.”

“Are they always different women, or do you have the same women coming back for more?”

“There’s definitely a lot of repeat business.”

“Is it always here in the back of the shop?”

“Generally yes, although sometimes a woman will call me up and say her husband’s out of town and could I come around. Those house calls are usually at night and then there will be sleeping involved because I stay till dawn.”

“I’ve got to say that I find it all most extraordinary. If you’re telling the truth, I cannot believe there are so many women having affairs.”

“I wouldn’t call what I do with them an affair. It’s just fantasy stuff, fill in a few hours with the jock.” He stood up and held out his hand to me, “So when can I pencil you in?”

I had taken his hand to rise up off the chair, but I snatched it back when the impact of his question hit me, “Never, I’ve told you that, never!”

Chuck looked at me with a smirk, “I meant for your next tennis lesson Sandy. Good God, what do you take me for?”

I was embarrassed, I had overreacted sharply when I thought that he was asking to pencil me in for sex. I stammered, “Well, we were … err … we were talking about how much you do it with these other women, and I … err, I thought that you were still on about me joining your harem.”

“Much as I would like that so much babe, that has to be your call. I’ll be happy when you make it.”

“Not when, but if,” I corrected him.

“Well, that’s a start, shows it’s still under consideration. I think we’re heading in the right direction.” As we walked from the court towards the pro shop, his hand came across and lifting my tennis dress, he rested it on my cotton pantied arse cheek. It actually felt good and made me feel quite sexy so I let it stay there for a few steps before reality caused my hand to grasp his wrist and pull it away. My arse cheek felt cold when his large palm left it.

Back at the pro shop, we settled on the date of the next lesson and I headed off home. I felt restless after the way the conversation had gone today. I didn’t know what it was. I was torn between assessing Chuck as I did originally … as a sleaze ball taking advantage of so many frustrated women and the more positive thought that he might actually be providing a very valuable service over and above tennis coaching.

I had lunch at home on the patio once again, then I went to lay down. I lay on my back in our bedroom, on the bed that I shared with my husband. I stared up at the ceiling that was so familiar to me. How many times over the many years of our marriage had I lain there, staring up at that ceiling while above me, Gary pumped his hard cock into me over and over again until my body exploded in another rapturous orgasm?

But a strange thing happened as I lay there in an afternoon sexual longing, staring up at that ceiling, reflecting on thoughts of a hard driving cock pumping into me as my real-life fingers lazily opened my clothing and played with my clitoris. The cock that I was suddenly imagining as my breathing quickened was not that regular, oh so familiar, cock of my husband. No, I was trying to picture a similar length cock that was so much thicker — very thick in fact, and in my sexual imagination, it felt good, so good.

I fell asleep on my bed after my self-induced climax and woke about 4pm. I still felt horny, so I decided to call Gary at work and prepare him for servicing my needs this night. The boys were both away at school camps until tomorrow so I wanted to warn Gary that we would be fucking before and after dinner tonight.

His PA answered, “I’m sorry Mrs. Collins, but he’s driven over to the plant in Exeter.” That was a smaller town, about 200 kilometres from here, and about a 2½-hour drive away.

“What, when did he go?”

“Oh, I guess about two, I can transfer you to his mobile phone, just hold on.”

I could have called that number myself, but I let her do it. Gary answered and in my disappointment at the news, I didn’t hold back, hitting him with a verbal barrage, “What the hell are you doing in Exeter?”

“I’m not there yet honey, maybe about another half an hour.”

Unimpressed that he hadn’t even got there yet, I continued, “Again, what are you doing there?”

“We had a sudden problem come up with the plant, the board thought that I should take it on.”

“When were you intending to tell me? I was planning something special for dinner.”

“it was all such a rush to get away … I intended to call you a bit later. Sorry honey.”

“Gary darling, the boys are away at camp for one more night. I had it planned to greet you at the front door in that negligee that you like best. Dinner was going to be late because sex was the first item on the menu.”

“Honey, that would have been wonderful, so sorry to disappoint. You do seem to be really horny lately.”

“I am, I know that, I don’t know what it is,” I lied. Lied because I did know that it had a lot to do with the way that Chuck spoke to me all the time about sex, and now I was wrestling with the fact that he had even propositioned me.

“Well, I’m afraid we’re just going to have to have a rain-check on all your plans, might try for tomorrow night.”

“The boys will be back home by then, it won’t be the same with them around.”

“Well honey, the meeting at the plant won’t start until around 5 and then the board suggested that I should buy dinner for the managers here. I’ll drive back tonight, but I’m guessing that I won’t be home until around midnight. Why don’t you go over to the club and have dinner?”

“It won’t be the same and you know that,” I fired back angrily, cursing him silently, but then shouting at him, “Okay then, enjoy your meeting” a lot more loudly than I had intended and I slammed the phone down. I was pissed off big time! After the talk with Chuck about — what else – sexual subjects this morning, then my self-administered orgasm on my bed that did little to take the edge off my sexual thoughts, and now my husband was going to be a no-show tonight.

Frustrated was hardly the word for it, all kinds of thoughts were running through my head, one of which was to settle down in the lounge room chair with a good book. I even thought of calling Chuck, to see if he was available, but for what? Was I really ready to take that massive step? But even if I called him, what would he say? Would he pencil me in for a session next Tuesday? My needs were now — this minute, not almost a week away!

I flung off my clothes and stormed into the bathroom. I ran the shower and stepped in under the cascading water, vigorously lathering up my body and attending to every nook and cranny. Then I stepped out and dried myself with a large towel before adjourning naked to my bedroom. I stopped and stared at my nude body in the mirror, trying to look at it the way men did … or at least the way one man would. Would he like what he saw when I was naked, or was the allusion he had from seeing what he had already seen much better?

I sat down at my bedroom dresser and applied a wisp of perfume to strategic spots that included between my breasts, on the skin outside my outer labia lips and in the cleavage at the top of my arse. Then I opened a drawer and took out the sports bra and frilly panties that Chuck had given me. I put them on, leaving the product tags on to prove that these were the new garments that he had asked me to model for him.

I stood once again so I could assess how I looked, how Chuck would see my body when I removed my tennis dress to model the new garments to meet the condition that he had placed on his gift. I checked myself out from the front and from the back. ‘Not bad for 40,’ I thought, deciding that I looked pretty good, even if I did think so myself. I took the tennis dress from the closet and put that over my undergarments. Socks and tennis shoes followed and I was ready to go out … physically at least even if my mind was still unsure of the impetuous journey I was about to embark on.

I arrived at the club at 10 to 5 and walked quite purposefully toward the tennis pro shop. When I got there, the door was closed, but I tried the handle and it opened. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. Chuck was behind the counter, talking on the phone. He looked up and gave a huge look of surprise when he first saw me.

His mouth was still agape in surprise as he listened to the other person talking to him down the phone line. Ignoring that he was otherwise engaged on the phone, I took one step forward, my hands nervously taking the front hem of my tennis dress and lifting it fully up to my waist, revealing the whole front of my panties. His eyes dropped to take in that sight. With it, I announced, “I’m the new model you were waiting for.”

His face broke into a huge grin as his eyes approvingly scanned my panties and his free ear picked up my words. Without even waiting for him to get off the phone in my nervousness, I reached two hands up behind my back and pulled the zipper on the dress down. The back of the dress parted and I let it fall down over my waist, my hips and to my feet.

Now his eyes didn’t know where to look, they jumped from the panties up to my large breasts that were well secured by the sports bra. All the time, his caller continued waffling on, unaware of what was now distracting Chuck. He mumbled, “Yes … yes, for sure,” and that seemed to keep the caller happy to continue. Chuck continued listening and I continued standing there, revealing more of my body than Chuck had yet seen.

I wished for the call to finish. I was beginning to feel awkward that the call was going on so long and I was caught here, unable to progress any further on whatever I had started. This was not the way I fleetingly planned this impromptu event coming here in the car. Chuck seemed to sense my anguish. He interrupted the caller, “Look honey, something big has come up, I’m really going to have to go.” He lowered his voice a little like he didn’t want me to hear this next bit, but we were in this small shop together. There was no avoiding hearing him say, “Look, I’m gonna have to take a rain-check on tonight … yes, yes I know, you were looking forward to it, but I’ll make it up to you.”

He listened to the caller’s protests, I was already guessing it was a woman … one of his women. “No, I don’t think I could make it later,” he was telling the caller. Chuck looked up at me and motioned with his hands, gesturing to his watch.

“I’m free until midnight,” I whispered just loud enough for him to hear, but also sealing my fate with that one sentence, turning a supposed 5-minute modelling session into whatever Chuck wanted it to be.

“Look honey, there’s no way. I’m gone for the night now. Yes I know, we had a date and I know he’s back tomorrow, but really, there’s nothing I can do about it. Look, I’ve gotta go, I’ll call you next week.”

He put the phone down, “Wow, to what do I owe this surprise? Sandy, you are the ice maiden, you’re not going to get me, that’s what you said.”

“I decided that I wanted to start wearing your gift to me, so I’m only here to model the bra and panties,” I attempted to justify my presence here, pirouetting for him, “So do you like?”

“Yeah sure, of course I like, I knew they’d look good on you … I am looking at a body that is oozing sex. You are hot for some loving, and old Chucky here is just the guy to do it.”

“Don’t come on like that please, I don’t like all that sports jock sleaze stuff, can you show a bit of class, that’s more my speed.”

“Speed babe, I’ve got all the speeds for you … slow, medium, fast and mind-blowing!

“Oh my God, that’s just you, isn’t it? You only know one way. Okay, whatever! What happens next?”

“You better tell me what you want from me. The last message I got from you was that I would never get to have you. Now you’re standing in my shop wearing only a bra and panties. It seems like something’s changed. Do you want to tell the Chuckster what’s happened?

I began to fidget around, I was embarrassed that I had given in so easily to his come-on lines. I just wanted him to sweep me up in his arms, to ease the guilt and uncertainty that was beginning to wash over me as I stood here awkwardly. “I don’t know … all that talking about sex and what the women here at the club need, I guess it got to me.”

“I knew it would, you’re just like all the others. But there’s more … come on, give it up, what changed?”

“I was managing to keep the appeal of you away while ever my husband could meet my needs. After we talked this morning … oh my God, I’ve been horny all day. I wanted my husband tonight, but he’s been called away to some business thing in Exeter.”

“Good God, that’s 200 k’s from here.”

“Yes exactly, so there’s no way he’ll be back before midnight. I couldn’t wait that long. You were right all along, I do need some loving.”

“Come on babe, give it up more. What exactly do you need Chucky to provide?”

“Oh God, do I have to beg you for it? Isn’t it enough that I’m here?”

“No, after the way you told me I’d never have you, it’s not enough. You do have to beg … you were so emphatic, so high and mighty, the princess, you told me there was no way I was getting you. Well now babe, you’ve got to beg old Chuck to fuck you.”

I cringed deep inside, my little journey of fantasy was becoming humiliating. I was here for God’s sake, to play his game, what more did he want from me? I dug deep, and smiling sweetly, I uttered the words, “Chuck darling, would you please fuck me … fuck me over and over until I cum enough times to satisfy this craving I have in my body.”

“What’s the craving for babe?”

“I have a craving for whatever your kind of sex is … I want that thick cock of yours.”

“That’s better, that’s what I’m here for babe, all my women know it. You’re about to become one of Chuck’s women.”

He turned and pulled back the curtain in the doorway that led back into the stock room. My fate was sealed, I had sealed it myself by coming here, dressed as I was. I stepped out of the circle of cloth at my feet that was my tennis dress and moved forward, into the semi-dark of the stock room, feeling Chuck close behind me. When I hesitated before reaching the couch, I felt his body fit itself against mine just the way he had out on the court that first day. Only this time, his hands were on my shoulders and his lips were suddenly on my neck, kissing me very passionately.

“Please … no bites,” I demanded, panicking when I felt how aggressive his lips and teeth were on my neck. He seemed to ease off just enough for me to feel better about what he was doing. His hands swooped down and the palms rolled over the bra, cupping each of my breasts, pulling my body back against his. I could feel his erection rubbing against the frilly panties that covered my arse cheeks.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against his body, giving in to the arousal that was starting to build through my body, feelings that came from the way his palms twisted over my breasts and his lips kissed my neck. My hands dropped to my sides and I reached them back to grip onto the sides of his hips behind me.

You’re such a hot woman,” Chuck whispered in my ear, “I knew all along you wanted it … it was just a matter of time until you came to me.” Then his mouth swooped again, running up and down over my neck. Every now and then, his lips would run over that sensitive bit of neck where when it’s touched by a kiss, it sends a shudder coursing through the body.

It seemed strange for me to think about the woman he had just cancelled a date with over the phone … even stranger that I would bring it up while his hands and mouth were doing wonderful things to my body. “Will she be seriously pissed off at you?”

“Who?” he mumbled, his mouth against my neck.

“The woman on the phone, the one you had a date with.”

“Don’t stress out about her, she can cope.”

“I hope passing up a night with her for me will be worth it to you.”

“Oh babe, she does not compare to you, not even in the same race. Her husband’s away in Europe, she’s always hot for it when he’s away. My God, I’ve done her three times this week. She wanted to double-date with another couple tonight, I wasn’t really looking forward to it. You came along just at the right moment.”

“I’m glad I could help,” I managed to get the words out before the passion of his kisses on my neck and his hands working my nipples into a frenzy took over my whole being. My legs sagged a little and I wished I could be sitting or lying down while this sports jock worked on me.

I felt my bra suddenly loosen, realised that Chuck had manipulated the catch in back with his nimble fingers. I wondered why his hands had deserted my breasts, but then they were back, now under the bra cups that were left dangling in front of me. I let the bra slide down my arms stretched out in front of me. His big powerful hands felt wonderful as they massaged the smooth soft skin of my large breasts, and then he took the nipples between the fingers, pinching them, stirring them to stiffened peaks.

Aroused by the passion that Chuck was bringing to the surface in me, I let one of my hands slide from his hip, pushing it between his pelvis and my arse to grasp the bulge of his engorged cock still confined to his shorts. “You can take it out if you want, check it out,” he whispered.

“I want to feel it, see it! You were right all along, I need to see what it looks like,” I told him.

“I know you do.” He spun me around so that I was now facing him and pushed us back toward the couch so that the backs of my knees were touching it. “Sit down!” he commanded.

I eased my arse back onto the couch, bringing my face down level with his waist. Curiosity and instinct and the passion already aroused led me to unbutton his shorts and I dragged them down off his hips. His briefs were tented out in front by something quite large. I grasped the waistband of his briefs and eased them forward over the extension that stuck out from his groin. A sight to behold, he had described it so well. It was very erect, not just hard but it looked solid, thick … it was indeed about the same length as Gary’s … but oh my God, it must have been at least double the width of Gary’s. What a fine specimen, how would that change the landscape inside my body? Will I be permanently widened? I hoped not, but at that very moment, I didn’t care. I wanted what I was looking at.

“You weren’t exaggerating,” were my words of praise, “it is thick … looks good.”

“Wait until you feel it inside you. Fucking will never be the same again.”

I took a hold of it with one hand, My fingers wouldn’t meet my thumb in circling it. I pumped it a couple of times and a drop of clear liquid appeared in the eye. I eased my head forward and licked the drop off. My God, what was I doing? This was the man that I would insist should wear a condom to put it inside me and here I was licking his tip.

Chuck placed his hands on the back of my head, pulling me forward. There was no doubting what he wanted … my mouth to engulf his cock-head. I wasn’t having any of that. “No!” I told him.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know where it’s been. Well actually, I know where it’s been three times this week.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been inside that woman who was on the phone, you said at least three times this week.”


“I told you before, she could have got something from her husband and given it to you. I’m sorry, but I’d prefer not to have it in my mouth.”

“A blow job is an essential aspect of foreplay, you cannot have one without the other.”

“We’ll have to cope, I’m not putting this in my mouth. Haven’t you ever heard of safe sex.”

“Yes I have,” Chuck insisted, “and I practice it.”

“That’s very debatable. Look, I brought some condoms too, this might be a good time for me to put one on you.” I leaned across to the table nearby and retrieved my purse, opening it and taking out a foil strip.

“No, stuff that, I’m not putting one of those on. There’s no sensation, no feeling wearing a fucking raincoat.”

Undaunted by his protests, I tore open the pack and pulled out one rubber. Grasping the bubble tip, I placed it to the head of his cock.

“Didn’t you hear me, I’m not wearing one of those.”

“Then I can go home now because you’re not putting this thing inside me without wearing this.”

“I reckon you’re bluffing.”

I stood up with great difficulty because Chuck was standing up close to the sofa and when I stood I was pinned between his body and the seat. I pushed around him, grabbed my purse and headed for the doorway to the shop. I have to admit to you now that I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t called me back, because I had committed my body to doing this with Chuck. I would be left lacking and frustrated to go home alone to my house with Gary not expected until midnight.

“Okay okay, you win, put the fuckin’ rubber on me, but don’t let the word get around that I agreed to wear this. It will destroy my reputation.”

“It might just improve your reputation Chuck, show that you are a sensitive new age guy who cares very much about the health of the women that you screw.” I had returned to the sofa and I sat down in front of him and resumed rolling the condom onto his thick cock.

“Now where were we?” said Chuck, looking down to inspect the condom that I had rolled onto his cock before dropping to his knees in front of me. “Just to show you that I don’t have the same fears as you, I’m going to lick you now.”

His hands took a hold of the tennis panties and I lifted my arse off the seat so that he could reef them down over my hips, revealing my pussy to him for the first time. Chuck pushed my upper body back against the sofa armrest, parted my legs and his face dove down between the tops of my thighs. I wasn’t expecting this, so it came as a welcome bonus. His tongue tip gently swiped up between my labia lips, his fingers gently separating them, keeping them wide apart. When the tongue tip lightly touched my clitoris, my lower body lifted up off the lounge. “Ohhh, ohhh yes! Yessssss!” I screamed out and I pulled my legs back, knees bent and ankles high in the air, ensuring that my pubis was stretched wide and open for his oral attention.

He was good — even great at this, as I guess I should have expected. Judging by the conquests he had related to me, he did seem to be a genuine almost professional stud. I murmured and mumbled appreciative gasps and moans as he licked up a storm down there and my mind began to anticipate that if his oral was this good, how great might his fucking technique be?

He controlled my arousal. Whenever my breathing and the shaking of my thighs implied that my orgasm was close, he would ease off his tongue work. Then, when I subsided, his tongue and lips would go to work again, ramping up the pressure and the pleasure until I was left gasping and breathless once more. Then, on one of those peaks, he just didn’t ease back … Chuck just kept licking and sucking and suddenly I was there, my lower body pulsing and throbbing until I went over the top and climaxed. Then the rest of my body felt the pulsing too as it washed over me.

It took my body a while to come down. The finish had been sensational, but then I knew that this was only the beginning. I had a lot more to come and Chuck was not about to waste any time. I felt the tip of that enormously wide cock-head probing at my entrance. I hoped that my vaginal opening would stretch wide enough to take it in. “Careful with me,” I warned, “I’ve never had one quite this thick before.”

“I know, I’m used to this, you’re in good hands.”

I was you know, in very good hands. He used his fingers dextrously all around my pubis to prepare me for entry. My juices were flowing, my hands held my legs back and up. I could only imagine what my stretched pussy parts looked like to Chuck as he readied his cock to penetrate my depths. Then — oh God — it was there, pushing. I felt myself stretched wider than I’ve ever felt before. Would it go in easily? Would there be some pain, some discomfort? My God, was that the head going in? I felt so stuffed full with something. Not just something … I obviously knew it was his cock, but it really did feel a lot different from anything I had experienced with Gary all these years.

“Ohhh, how much is in me Chuck, is that only the head?” I asked nervously, trying to look down there, but his body obscured my vision, “is it in?”

“Yes! You’ve taken the whole head and maybe another inch, it looks great.”

“Oh thank God, it’s okay, it feels good … no, good is not enough … it’s what you said, great … yes great, it feels great!” I enthused, knowing I was talking too much in my nervousness, but loving this moment and so pleased now that circumstances had created this opportunity. If Gary only knew, if he hadn’t been called away to fix that business problem at the plant, I would never have had the opportunity, may never have taken the chance to hook up with super-stud Chuck. I might never have had another chance to be lying here on his work sofa, allowing the sports jock to take me as he had declared he wanted to.

I looked up to see him watching me, “Are you ready for some more, can you take the rest?”

“Oh yes, oh Chuck, it feels big and it feels great … please give it to me now! I want all of it inside me.”

My hands possessively ran down over the back of his powerful male body that towered over me and I grabbed his arse cheeks like I was steering him into me, his strong legs pushing up off the floor. I felt his body momentarily tense, and then that solid thick cock, up to now only partly embedded in me, began to push forward some more. Slowly and relentlessly, it gained more ground, inch by inch, until it filled me totally and I lowered my legs to wrap them tightly around Chuck’s back and arse.

“You okay?” he checked when it was wedged so tightly up inside me that I thought I might struggle to breathe.

“Oh yes, no complaints from here. Just do it, I want you to fuck me Chuck, just like you do to those other women. Hold nothing back!”

I felt him withdrawing his thick cock and I would have felt the loss of it if I hadn’t known that he would be thrusting it back up inside harder and deeper, again and again. I wriggled my lower body around, adjusting it to accept his thrusts, knowing what was coming, making myself as comfortable as I could to receive this cock that was double the width of anything that had been inserted in me before. I felt his body hover when only the grand tip remained clinging to the lips of my vagina, and then my breath was expelled in a powerful whoosh as Chuck thrust his hips and that human tool pushed all the way up to fill me to the hilt.

The rhythm began, slowly at first, just quietly building a rhythmic pattern that was so pleasant. I wanted more right from the start, my body was by now screaming out for its second orgasm and I wanted that cock of his to be powering into me like a piston. But this man knew what he was doing and he stirred my body up gradually, stretching out the intense pleasure so that I could enjoy the anticipation phase fully before I reached another peak of orgasm.

Eventually, after what seemed like minutes, I felt the throbbing coming from deep down inside my lower body. I had complete trust in Chuck’s ability, he was going to expertly guide me through the satisfaction phase. How did I know that? Was it because he had told me how good he was, or because he was now demonstrating that by loving me like I had never been loved before. Oh dear, that was a terrible thing to admit when the love of my life, Gary had been so good to me all these years. But this was new illicit love, naughty and exciting!

Chuck lifted my body slowly and inexorably toward my peak. He steered my body up and over it and I humped my hips back at him as I rode the waves inside me to completion. Only it wasn’t quite complete, not on his part. Chuck powered on, his cock now up at that piston-like level that I had craved earlier. Oh my God, was that another arousal peak building? No, it couldn’t be, I had never cum twice in one fuck. But to my delight and sheer pleasure, it was a second — my third on this sofa — and then my body was pulsing and throbbing and humping up at him … quickly followed by the excitement of hearing and feeling his body responding.

Chuck’s breathing was ragged, his strokes became shorter, and then — kaboom, he was cumming too, I felt the heat of his fluids splashing within me, searching out my uterus. Hold on … wait a minute, I shouldn’t be feeling that, those fluids — his cum — should be splashing into the rubber tip of his condom. But no, those fluids — his cum — were definitely there, deep up inside my body. “What happened to the condom?” I screamed at him, even while my breathing still laboured and the panting and gasping from both of us continued.

Chuck didn’t answer me. I opened my eyes, stared up at his that were closed. His face was a mask of euphoric pleasure from the raised eyebrows to the square jaw, his mouth agape in rapturous delight, exhausted grunts emanating from it as his thick cock still spasmed and spilled it’s contents inside me.

Again I shouted, “You took it off, didn’t you? You bastard, you took the condom off!”

He opened his eyes, he was smiling down at me, “I told you that I didn’t want to wear it, and I won’t. Don’t stress, you’ll be safe.”

“That was important to me Chuck. If I pass on something to my husband and he wants to know how it happened, I’ll never forgive you. More importantly, you’ll never get inside my body again.”

“I did it for you babe.”

“Crap, you did it for yourself.”

“No, I did it for you so that you could feel the real human skin of my cock, sliding against the wet silky walls of your cunt. You would never have cum the way you did if I’d had that fuckin’ condom on.”

It was too late now; he had planted his cum, and whatever it may contain, deep inside my body. I felt the last pulses from his slumping cock, expelling the final drops of his cum into me. I wondered what would happen now. He had exerted a lot of effort in giving me such a wonderful and satisfying fuck. Could he get it up again? If so, how soon? I had told him I was clear till midnight, so would we stay here in the pro shop as it got dark outside? Would we just go on fucking through until late? Or would we go and have some dinner somewhere and then resume for another fuck? I lay there, pinned down by this muscular body, waiting to see what his next move was. I hoped that there would be more exquisite intimacy from this night of fornication.

Thankfully, Chuck stirred about 15 minutes after I had felt the last pulse of his ejaculation into me. I was beginning to worry he had fallen asleep despite him telling me he never did. He lifted up his head and looked down at me lying there beneath his body. “Sandy, that was great … man, you are hot, I knew you would be. Your body just oozes sex. So how do you feel, are you up for more?”

“I’m good, but what about you? Are you up for more? I can go again anytime you want, but you’re the one that has to be stiff, not me.”

“Yeah, just give me a few minutes, I’ll be good soon. What about you, did old Chucky deliver for you? Didn’t I tell you it would be good? Hey, how many times did you cum?”

The moment that I had finally committed to do this, to go with the sports jock, I knew I would get this, the over-ego, the self-praise. The point was that the sex with him was good. More than that, it was great and in fairness, I had to tell him so.

“No complaints Chuck, none at all, you were good, great even. And yes, I came a few times … three I think. The first was when you went down on me … I didn’t expect that. That’s a nice thick cock you’ve got, and you do know how to use it.”

“See, I told you so, and we wasted all this time with you bull-shitting me how you didn’t want it, didn’t need it. Hey babe, you needed it!”

“I guess I did,” I admitted, “I just didn’t know it until now. So are you going to keep telling me how good you were, or put that damn thick thing in me again and fuck me some more?”

He lowered his face and began kissing me, something he never got around to the first time. His kisses were nice, mouths open, lips mashing, tongues clashing … I started feeling good again. I gave back as good as I got in passion and I waited expectantly for his cock to stiffen. It was squashed between our bellies and I began to feel some twitching, indicating that the passion in our kissing was doing as much for him as it was for me. I was wet again down there.

We had the luxury of plenty of time to begin this second fuck and so Chuck moved on from my lips to my breasts. Again, he had only used fingers and hands on them the first time. Now his mouth circled and nipped and sucked and my nipples became hard nubs again. His fingers were now playing at my clitoris. It felt very nice but I didn’t need any more stirring. I was already primed for more of his penetration.

The foreplay went on for some time with Chuck switching his mouth constantly between my lips, my ears, my neck, my breasts and my belly. I was so messy with remains of his cum that I held him back from orally knowing my pussy again, although I think he would have if I had let him.

I was eager for a second coupling. I could no longer feel his cock against my skin so I didn’t know how well he was progressing in that department. That is, until he pushed my legs off the sofa and sat down alongside me. I looked over to see that his cock had restored to its solid thick best. “Your turn to do all the work,” he told me as he steered my body across and up over his, pushing me into a position where I was kneeling on the sofa, my legs straddling his, facing him.

I raised my body up high, my pussy — still so wet – hovering over the top of his vertical rod and I lowered myself down until once again, I felt the tip of his cock-head pushing and probing at my vaginal opening. My hand dropped down between my legs and I manipulated his shaft so that I could push down over the top of it and trap two or three inches of it up inside my wet slippery passage. Oh my God, it felt good! Was this what illicit sex was all about? No wonder so many women at the club were supposedly doing it.

Chuck looked relaxed, his head lying against the back of the sofa while I made all the movements, my thighs working to lift my body slowly up and down on his strong rigid shaft. I was in no hurry and we were both content to amble along at a gentle pace this time. On each stroke, my body sank a fraction lower onto his cock until eventually it was once more embedded deep within me.

The sensations rolling through my body were exquisite, I felt gentle waves lapping on every long drawn out stroke down and back up. Sitting on Chuck as I was, I could control how much pressure was exerted on my clitoris on each stroke. Playfully, I would speed up to build up the sensations. Then, just when I thought that it couldn’t get any better and I would have to let myself cum, I drew on an inner strength of resistance that allowed me to back off for a minute, only to resume and let it all slowly build again.

“You look like you’re having a good time up there,” he told me after I had varied the pace several times. “I have been watching your face, I can see the pleasure vary in it as you change speeds. It just confirms what I said all along … you are such a hot woman. Your husband is very lucky.”

“I don’t know if he appreciates that. But after tonight with you, I think I’m going to go home and be as physical with him as you have been with me.” I paused to let another small wave of pleasure roll through my body. I don’t know if you would call any of them actual orgasms, they were just intense moments where the feelings reached an incredible high. “Not tonight though, he doesn’t get any tonight.”

“Why not? Maybe you owe him … if he hadn’t rushed off to Exeter, you wouldn’t be here with me now, experiencing all of this,” Chuck correctly pointed out.

“Oh I know that, I am so indebted to Gary for deserting me and leading me to you. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. No, I’m just saying that he won’t get any tonight, because after I’m done with you, I’m going to be too worn out inside to accommodate him. That’s his loss but this is my gain.”

Chuck laughed loudly. I looked down at him, studying his face as I continued to ride his wonderful body. You know, when he was like this, talking, laughing, being natural, he was a nice guy. It was just that sports jock persona that he seemed to think he needed.

I felt another wave rising inside me. This time I didn’t put it off. I pushed down and up strongly, moving my body so that my clitoris was in closer contact with his wet solid thick shaft. The gentle pulses became hard throbs, intensifying with every stroke until my body exploded atop Chuck, a powerful orgasm running through me. I slumped forward, burying my face in his neck as I soaked up the waves of pleasure.

That stopped me and now it was my turn to take several minutes to almost slumber before eventually Chuck moved beneath me and I felt that his cock was still as hard and stiff as it had been while I rode it. “You haven’t cum,” I half-asked and half-informed Chuck, lifting my head up so that I could see his face.

“No, it’s okay, I’m gonna save myself for later.”

“Oh goody, you mean there’s more.”

“Yes, I thought we might take a break for dinner now.”

“I’m hardly dressed for dinner.”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll call the kitchen and get them to send a couple of meals over.”

I stared into his eyes, “I guess they’re used to this, are they? I wonder what they’ll say over there when you order. Oh lucky Chuck’s got another of his women over there. Looks like I’ve become just another of the long chain. Am I going to have to fit into your schedule?”

“That depends on you, I didn’t know if this was going to be a one-off for you. I hope it’s not, you’re so hot that I’d like to see you a lot.”

“You don’t need me, you’ve got a long line beating down your door … you as much as told me so.”

“Yeah, I guess there’s quite a few, but not many that are as hot as you.”

“I bet you say that to all your women.”

“No, I know you have a poor opinion of me, but I’m being straight with you. Sure, I get more than my share of married women wanting a bit on the side, but many of them are so lazy. I guess it may come from them being rich and bored, but they just lay back and expect me to make them feel good. Whereas you … hell, you’re so hot, it’s like I have unleashed another side of you that’s been waiting for the chance to get out there and participate. You have thrown yourself into this tonight. You hump it back at me and you squeeze the life out of my cock when I’m thrusting into you. You are just so hot for sex, maybe you haven’t been getting enough at home.”

“It is looking like that. But I have to admit that since meeting you, even though I was emphatic that I didn’t want you, I’ve been going home and almost raping my husband because you got me so mentally aroused with all your sex talk. I’ve never come across a guy who talks it up so much. That’s why I called you a sex addict the other day.”

I lifted my tired body up off Chuck’s still rampant cock, watching the erotic uncoupling between our bodies, wetness everywhere, then I slumped back on the lounge alongside him.

“I’ll go order some food, any likes or dislikes?”

“No, I’m in your hands … and I like it.”

He laughed again and slipped out through the curtain into the shop. I heard him on the phone ordering the food. There must have been some snide reference to him having another woman here because I heard him laugh in the middle of his conversation and then he added, “Oh yes, I’m doing alright … but this one’s quite special. No, no names, I am discreet even if you all think I’m a fucking machine.”

When he reappeared through the curtain, I asked, “Are they giving you a hard time?”

“Could you hear that?”

“Only your side of the call, I put two and two together in guessing what they were saying to you. I liked what you said about no names, makes me feel reassured. I wouldn’t want this to get out, my husband is using the club for the connections with clients.”

“No, I’d be crazy, by being discreet I get to keep my job.”

“Is there a toilet here Chuck?” I asked, my eyes scanning the little stock room anxiously.

“I’m afraid not, only a sink in the corner, that’s what I use.”

“Oh lovely! Remind me not to wash my hands there. So it looks like I have to get dressed and go outside to use a toilet. That’s embarrassing because it’s dark outside now. I’m going to look strange walking around in tennis gear at night.”

“I do have something for emergencies.” He went over to the corner and rummaged among some junk piled there. When he turned, he was holding what looked like a ceramic pot. “I have a potty, just like households used to use 100 years ago. You can pee in that if you want.”

June 2018
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