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BetweenHerLegs says --

This story, like all BetweenHerLegs stories, is a literary exploration of sexual fantasy.  
It it not intended to describe actual persons or events, nor to condone or encourage any of these activities.  
Likewise, this and every other piece of erotica on this site should not be read by or to minors,
nor by or to anyone for whom these materials are illegal, immoral, or ill-advised.

Otherwise... enjoy!

Love and kisses,

Jenny (ManyJennies@yahoo.com)

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"A Whirlwind of Change"

by BetweenHerLegs

© Jenny Clark, 2008

It's amazing how much change a woman can undergo in a matter of hours, and just how quickly those changes become entrenched.  At the start of the day, I had been a chaste wife, a woman who had, her whole life, known only one lover: the man who was her husband and the father of her children.  By the end of the day, I was laying on my side, my legs split wide apart.  One was stretched out on the bed as far as it could, quivering with tension.  The other was curled around the shoulder of the eighteen year-old boy who was plowing my full, dark bush. And my eyes were on my husband as he sat helplessly by the bedside, masturbating to a picture of our fourteen year-old daughter and the sounds my adulterous coupling.

My name's Cathy and I'm 38 years old.  Age does not necessarily translate to wisdom, or I would have seen it coming from the very start of the day.  Too many things converged for it to be avoided.  Then again, maybe I didn't want to avoid it.  And maybe I'm glad I didn't.

Emotional vulnerability number one: it was the day of my father's funeral.  He and I had always been very close, so I took his passing hard.  None of my other siblings even got along with him, so I not only felt grief, but I felt alone in that grief.

Emotional vulnerability number two: my husband Jeff is an exceedingly handsome man, a good provider, a wonderful father, and a conscientious husband.  But he's as stereotypical a carpenter as he is a successful one.  He's emotional insensitive; some might even say stunted. As proof of this, he went to work as usual that day, leaving me to go to my dad's funeral alone.

Emotional vulnerability number three: Nick.  The eighteen year-old son of family friends.  I'd babysat for him since he was born and watched him grow from a smart, cute little baby into a handsome, sensitive young man.  I'd been watching him and his brother once when he was thirteen, and hadn't given much thought about the fact that he was getting older.  I was walking around in a sleep shirt that was tight across my chest and came down about mid-thigh.  I didn't think anything of it until I saw him getting an erection.  While I didn't exactly think sexually of him at that young age, I experienced a certain enchantment at the idea that I might have been the first live woman to give Nick a boner.

As fate would have it, Nick stopped by the morning of my dad's funeral change, just to see if there was anything he could do to help.  I broke down in tears and asked if he could go with me so I wouldn't be alone.  He did, and he was a source of comfort and strength for me.  After the funeral, he drove us back to my house and we sat in his front seat.  I clutched his hand and lay my head on his shoulder, crying softly.

He didn't say anything or try to fix anything like most men do; he just let me cry, and squeezed my hand.  After a few minutes, I got out and invited him in.  I poured us some iced tea and we went into the living room. I sat on the couch.  He sat in the rocking chair to the side of the couch.

And then I made the big mistake.  Or maybe it wasn't a mistake.  But it was the decision that would ultimately lead me down a path I never consciously foresaw.  I beckoned Nick to come sit beside me on the couch. I wanted to be near him.  I wanted to feel his comfort next to me again.  I had no thoughts of my husband Jeff, nor of my children.  Nor was I thinking sexually.  I simply wanted to feel Nick's presence.

There's no denying that he was a handsome boy.  At eighteen, he'd lost his baby fat and started to put on lean muscle from a lot of bike riding and yard work.  He was only 5'9", but the height suited him. He had soft brown hair that he combed in a simple part, and he had dimples that were dazzling.  But it was really about his lips and his eyes.  His lips were very soft for a boy's.  You could tell just by looking.  They didn't look feminine at all, but they looked soft.  And his eyes.  His eyes were bright, penetrating blue, surrounding by long, thick dark lashes.  I could stare at his eyes for hours.

Still, I was not aware of anything I'd call attraction to him.  Not until he sat next to me, and took my hand soothingly in his.  Suddenly I became keenly aware not only of my own appreciation of his looks, but also of a sense of attraction the other direction.  This surprised me.  

I've never been uneasy about my looks.  I have dark, hunter green eyes with hazel flecks that come out in the sunshine.  My skin is smooth and clean, and bronze-complected from my Italian mother, who also gave me her long, straight black hair and her full lips.  My face is olive-shaped with high cheekbones, giving me simultaneously soft and finely angled features.  I'm 5'8" and a voluptuous size 12 with 38C breasts.  I knew I still turned some heads at 38.  But I was 38, and Nick was 18.  I never anticipated that he would be attracted to me, no matter what my looks.

But clearly he was, and I had the sense that he wasn't only responding to my vulnerability of that day -- though I'm sure that vulnerability helped embolden him and strengthen whatever desires he already had.  Too, I was wearing an outfit that I knew suited me particularly well: a denim skirt that hung to my knees and a dark black sweater which was as shimmery as it was soft.  I looked sideways at him and found that his eyes were locked on my face.

When our eyes met in that awkward way, he let loose my hand, raised his hand to my cheek and gently turned my face towards his.  Tears in the corners of my eyes, I parted my lips, breathing softly.  His eyes closed.  His lips parted.  And then I felt him take my upper lip gently between his lips, sucking it ever-so-softly into his mouth.  When he let go of my lip, I almost screamed, but he moved to my lower lip, sucking just as gently and rolling the flesh between his lips, massaging it delicately with his tongue.  

And I wept with joy.  

"Oh, Nick," I cried out as his mouth at last met mine full on.  "Nick, Nick, little Nicky," I called out to him as our lips pressed and our tongues met, slipping saliva into one another's mouths.  I had never kissed another man but my husband apart from gentle pecks, but I whirled my tongue around in this eighteen year-old boy's mouth, sloshing spit and gnashing teeth with increasing ferocity.

"Cathy," he moaned into my mouth, and before I knew what was happening, his hands were both on my chest, massaging my breasts through my sweater.

I had never experienced hands like Nick's.  They were strong and demanding, but they were also careful.  As much as he pawed and groped, he caressed and stroked.  With no reservations, I wanted to feel those hands directly on my flesh, so I reached down and lifted my sweater up over my tits.  

Unlike my husband Jeff, Nick was able to maintain focus on more than one activity.  Our kisses continued, even heated up.  Our lips would only part in order to allow our tongues to play outside our mouths.  When we did this, we had our eyes wide open, sometimes gazing deeply into one another's, and something looking on with wonder at the wet, sloppy play of our tongues.  But even so, his hands found my breasts with new vigor, and as he kneaded me through my bra, he felt my nipples harden.  Taking his cue from my earlier encouragement, he slid his hands around to my back and unfastened the hooks.  Thus freeing my chest to full exploration, his hands returned to the front.

"Oh god, Nick, yes!" I cried out, as I never had before from simple breast play.  His finger slid around the contours of each breast, caressing until he reached the tips, at which point he would give a little squeeze.  As my responses to his touch grew more intense, he rolled my nipples between his fingers, and then pinched, only lightly. Just a little pressure. They were rock hard and burning for more.  "Kiss them," I begged.  "Kiss my tits, Nicky."

He dragged his mouth reluctantly from mine, but he moaned with pleasure as he brought it down to my chest.  His ministrations began with slow, lingering licks over my skin, moved on to a series of gentle but wet pecks, and then he lost control and ravaged my chest with his mouth.  His mouth was as skilful as his hands, a mixture of manly power and gentlemanly sensitivity.  

I was so caught up in the pleasure of it that I was barely aware of how much I was squirming, let alone of his hand sliding down my body to my hip, my thigh, then between my legs.  And then this eighteen year-old boy, slurping on my nipple, slipped his hand between my tightly pressed thighs, drew it up, and reached one finger out to press on my mound through my pantyhose.

I knew I was hot and moist, but I was so unprepared for his touch, that I lost it.  I screamed loudly, squeezed my thighs in on his hand, bucked forward, and felt something inside of my clench, then quiver, and then spasm.

"Shit! Oh shit!" I screamed out.  "What the fuck was that?" I cried, gripping his face and lifting it back to mine so that I could kiss him with desperate hunger.  "Oh god, Nick, oh, Nicky, god."

As he kissed me, his finger kept stroking my through my pantyhose, and he said gently, "What was that?  I think it was an orgasm, Cathy."

"Can't be," I corrected him between rough kisses.  I bit his lips, his cheeks, even his teeth.  "I've had my husband inside me and I've never had an orgasm before."

He pressed his mouth to mine, ran his tongue into my throat and moaned as loudly as he could.  When he broke the kiss I watched him withdraw his hand and bring it up towards our faces.  "Let's see how wet you were down there," he said in a soft voice.  My dark green eyes widened in awe as I saw his tongue reach out towards the finger which had just been tightly against my pussy.  He tasted his finger.  "Mmm... Nice and wet," was his verdict.  He took his own finger into his mouth and started to suck it.

I had no idea what how to respond to this.  I'd never seen it before.  Never known a man might do that.  It filled me with a new warmth and a little anxiety.  Not only was this my first affair, but I was in new sexual territory.  I had no idea what to do.  So I just allowed myself to sit back and vocalize my pleasure as the eighteen year-old bent over and began kissing my belly.  His mouth was still soft, but it was more insistent than before.  I was sure he was going to leave a hickey for my husband to find later, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything beyond moans, groans, and the occasional, "Oh god, yes!"

And then I felt his tongue inside my belly button, and I think I screamed again.  I bucked out, spread my legs and pressed his head against my tummy.  It was an unreal feeling, the wetness and strength of his flesh swirling around inside the little cavity.  But it was nothing compared to what was yet to happen.

At first when he raised his head I was disappointed, but then I was distressed and confused as he slid down off the couch, and knelt in front of me.  I had no idea what he planned.  Literally no idea.  But I saw the look in his eyes as he looked up at me and it made tears come to my eyes again.  His face was a mixture of adoration, worshipfulness, and animal hunger.  I had rarely seen any of those on Jeff's face, let alone all three at once.

"Cathy," he said, bending towards me and kissing my knees through my nylons.  He kissed each knee again, his mouth a little more open, allowing his tongue to draw circles.  Even through the hoes, it felt incredible.  "Cathy, I've wanted to do this for you for longer than I can remember."  His tongue slid down to the backs of my knees, and I squealed at the contact with an unexpectedly sensitive spot, even if it was covered by some measure of clothing.  He continued as if I hadn't responded.  "The first time I ever came, I was in my bed while you were downstairs, watching my brother and me for the night.  I was doing this to a stuffed animal, thinking of you, and I came."

I shivered inside as he spread my legs a little and began kissing the inside of my thighs.  His mouth worked its way slowly upward.  Soon his face was literally inside my skirt.  His kisses grew harder, stronger.  I knew for sure he was leaving bruises, and I was beyond not caring, part of me wanted my husband to see them, so I could tell him how god damned good this felt.

And then, his head buried entirely within my skirt I felt his nose pressing against my mound as he kissed the most sensitive areas of my thighs and moaned loudly with his own pleasure.  I didn't know if it was something that men did for women, but I found myself desperately hoping he would not stop his kisses on my legs.

He did not.

When his mouth first reached its ultimate destination, it was just his tongue, licking up and down the crease in my lips through my nylons.  Then came his lips, massaging my cunt as best he could.  And at least he slid his mouth to the side and I felt him bite into the nylon fabric and literally rip it aside, exposing my full, dark bush to his direct attention.

"Oh god, Cathy!" he called to me from inside my skirt, plunging his mouth directly onto my cunt.  He sucked my lips, licked at my slit, kissed up and down, fucked me with his tongue.

"Nicky!" she screamed.  "God, don't stop!"

"God, Cathy, you're beautiful!"

"Oh, Nicky!"

"And you smell so good!"

"Oh, god!"

"And you taste amazing!"

"Oh, Nicky, please please please!"

And he did please.  He pressed in further, working his tongue around inside me as deep as he could.  I threw my legs over his shoulders to encourage him.  His obvious delight in my most intimate area was almost as thrilling as the physical pleasure itself, and I squeezed my thighs tightly in on his head with crushing power.

Nick had another surprise in store for me, too.  I knew I had a clit.  I'd played with it once or twice and had enjoyed that.  Jeff had hit it once or twice by accident and I knew that it had felt good.  But when Nick's lips closed in around my clit and his tongue flicked it back and forth, I knew that I had never felt physical pleasure before.

I screamed, I cried, I bucked, and squeezed harder, and after far too short a time, my body was racked by a second, harder orgasm.  And while I didn't want him to stop, I didn't think I could take anymore right this minute, so I reached down and pulled him up, kissing him deeply and tasting my own juices all over his red face.

"God, Nicky, that was incredible," I groaned.  "I've never felt anything like that before.  Never."

"My pleasure, believe me," the eighteen year-old said with a sloppy grin.

His own erection did not escape my notice, but I wasn't sure what to do about that.  This was the first moment at which I had to actually confront the fact that I was cheating on my husband, and I was doing so with an eighteen year-old boy.  I was breaking virtually every one of my moral codes.

I rose to go to the kitchen for more iced tea, but found my legs shaky.  When I got there and started pouring the tea, I caught sight of my reflection in a window. My face was a mess, my hair in total disarray.  I hadn't yet realized that my sweater was still up over my tits, and my skirt was twisted our of place.

"You're beautiful," Nick's voice said behind me, and I felt his hand lay on my ass.  It was a sweet gesture of appreciation, not a crude grope.

"You said that before," I told him, turning to face him as I sipped at my tea.

"Well, you are," he said.

I tugged the hem of my sweater back down to my waist as I realized that the back door of our house was actually open and anyone who happened to walk by could see me. Then I clarified, "I meant about my . . when you were . . . You know."

Nick grinned, kissed my cheek.  "Well, you are," he repeated.

That sealed the deal.  Jeff had never said that he thought my pussy was beautiful.  He hardly even looked at it.  I looked into the young man's eyes and said, "You did something for me that Jeff never would."  I paused, licked my lips.  "So I'm going to do something for you that I would never do for Jeff."

With those words, I set my tea down on the counter and sank slowly to my knees.  I reached up and rubbed his crotch through his dark khaki pants.  He was no longer fully erect, but he was still hard.  I smiled.  I had never given a blowjob before, but I had the general idea.  I scooted a little closer to him and nuzzled against his lap.

"Would you like me to do this for you?" I asked him, rubbing my soft cheek against the growing lump under his zipper.

"Oh, Cathy..." was all he said, resting his hands on my head and pressing me just barely into him to indicate how much he would like me to proceed.

I was overcome by not only a desire for the new physical experience I was about to have, but also to  return to my Nicky the pleasure he had just given me.  My cheek still against his lap, I stretched my tongue out as fully as I could, surprising myself with its length outside my mouth, and licking up and down his zipper.  The wet trail excited me, and his continued hardening encouraged me that I was doing good so far.  I parted my lips and started to mouth him from the side.  

When he could finally take no more teasing through his pants, Nick reached down, yanked his zipper open, and freed himself from his tightie whities.  Apparently he was able to be more patient with his teasing delivery of pleasure than his own receipt.  I would have to try to train that out of him.

Another time.  For now, I opened my mouth, and surrounding the head of his cock, sucking hard, then soft, and using his responses to guide me toward the proper amount of force.  I was loud and sloppy, making a lot of slurping noises and allowing volumes of my own saliva to dribble down my face.  I felt his fingers bit into my scalp, and he pulled me in.  Forcing me to take him deeper.  And deeper.  I felt his swelling mass sliding along my tongue, pressing into the roof of my mouth, and then deeper yet.  My nose was pressed into his lap, and his cock hit the back of my throat, and I choked, coughing hard.  My face turned red, and I was struggling for air and gagging noisily on his manhood, but I didn't fight it and he didn't allow me any wiggle room.  

Suddenly he began to slide his cock back and forth, fucking my face.  His movements were so passionate, so driving, I pulled off.  "Nicky, wait," I begged.

His face was tense with the interruption of his build towards climax.  My own face was red as I panted for breath.  I started to speak again -- "I want you to fuck me, Nicky.  I don't want you to cum right now because I want  to feel my eighteen year-old lover inside of me."

Nick grinned and reached down and started to beat off.  Before I totally comprehended what was going on, he was cumming, shooting his load all over my face.  I'd never taken Jeff's cum on my body, and I loved that I was taking this kid's who was half my age.  It felt warm and sticky, and I grinned as it coated me and got in my eye lashes.  He reached out towards my face and wiped his cum with two fingers, then stuck those fingers into my mouth for me to suck clean. It was dirty and naughty and I did it and loved it.

"I can get hard again for you, Cathy," he promised.  "I'm well on my way already."

I got up and took his hand fiercely and led him to my bedroom.  In only moments we were looking at one another's naked bodies, and moments after that, we were rolling on the bed, kissing and caressing.  I loved the way his young flesh felt under my fingers, and I loved the way he groped and sucked on my mature flesh as if I were the experience of his life.  I'd never been made to feel like an experience before.  I rather enjoyed it.

Soon, true to his word, Nick was hard again.  "Jeff should have some condoms in his dresser," I panted, rolling reluctantly off the bed and going over to the bureau.  I slid out my husband's underwear drawer, and stopped.  There was a picture there.  A picture of our fourteen year-old daughter Amber.  It was a picture taken through a doorway while she was naked, changing her clothes.  The picture was covered in thumb prints and dried fluids.  "Bastard," I spat, flinging the picture towards Nick.  He looked at it wordlessly and set it aside.

"No condom," I growled, returning to the bed.  "I want to feel an honest man inside me without anything between us."

"Are you worried about --"

"I don't care, Nicky, just fuck me."

And he did.  He grabbed me and flung me to my back.  Kissing my tits and my side, he lined his erection up at my entrance, and then drove in, as deeply as he could.  I'd never been fucked like this before.  He didn't just slide in and out.  He moved at different angles, hitting spots that had never felt a cock before.  I grunted obscenely with every thrust.  Nick was very patient, more than I was feeling at that point, and I rolled us over so I was on top.  I'd never ridden Jeff before, but I loved the way this felt.  I humped up and down on the eighteen year-old's rigid shaft as I covered his face in kisses, my dark hair veiling him.

Then, behind us -- "What the fuck?!"

It was Jeff.  I wanted him to see this, so I ground down hard, and fucked Nick even harder, biting his neck and sucking on his chest.  "Oh, Nicky, yes!" I cried out as I fucked my way to an orgasm.  I rose from my young lover only after a moment or two.  He was still hard. But I grabbed the picture of Amber, walked over to Jeff, and slapped it into his hand.

"You're going to sit here while my Nicky fucks me to another orgasm and fills me up with his cum, and you're going to hear it all, but you're going to be masturbating while you listen to us and look at that picture you fucking pervert."

Stunned, Jeff didn't know what to do except obey. He sat in a chair near the bed and started looking at the picture of our daughter and playing with himself.  I crawled back into bed and kissed Nick on the mouth, and caressed his body.  "I'm yours, Nicky," I told him.  "And I want my husband to know it."  I sucked the boy's tongue deep into my throat while I stroked his cock.  "Show him I'm yours."

He rolled me onto my side, kissing the side of my breast, the curve of my waist, the side of my ass.  Then he lifted my leg, straddling the other one, and laying the one in his hands on his shoulder. Stretching my muscles in ways they had never been stretched before, he moved in towards my pussy.  By the time his cock reached my love gate for its triumphant return, my legs were quivering.  But I felt nothing but the thrill of his physical love as he proceeded to fuck me in this position.

I watched my husband, aroused by the sounds of his wife fucking a teenager and the sight of his own naked daughter.  "Oh, Nicky!" I cried out.

The sex was slow and almost teasing in this position, but I could tell from his gasps that it was doing wondrous things for him.  He soon reached his breaking point, though.  When that happened, he  muscled me over onto my belly.  I drew my legs up underneath me and he entered me from behind.  He now fucked hard and fast, thrusting at an upward angle.  He gripped my hips tightly as he rammed into my pussy mercilessly. He was on a direct course to orgasm, and I was right there with him.  My face was buried in a pillow.  I was biting it and clawing at the sheets. I had never been so overpowered before.  It was incredible.

And then, when he came, he thrust even deeper inside me, and I felt the jets of his orgasm individually, like the pulsing of water deep inside me, and I came again, screaming my lover's name and shaking and trembling all over.  When it had calmed down, Nick slipped out, and I rolled onto my back to hold his sperm inside me.  I looked over at Jeff, who had a stunned look on his face.  his hand and the photo of Amber were covered in his cum.

Maliciously, I rose and walked towards him.  This man who had never been interested in tasting my pussy.  I grabbed the back of his head as he sat there and pulled his face towards my thick bush forcing him to his knees and making him eat the eighteen year-old's cum from me.

"That's what your wife's cunt is like after it's been truly loved," I said harshly.  "Get used to it, because you're going to see it looking like this a lot."

And as his mouth worked my raw, wet pussy over, lapping up another man's semen, I felt Nick come up behind me.  The youth wrapped his arms around me, gently massaging my breasts and kissing the back of my beck.  And as my scorned husband ate my pussy on his knees, I felt Nick growing hard again against my ass.

"Oh, Nicky," I whispered.  My life would never be the same again.
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Read more from Jenny about this story at:

http://www.asstr.org/~BetweenHerLegs/spoilers.html