Hi, Jack here, and so that we can get it over with, married to Dianne – yeah, I know, Jack and Dianne, two lovers from the heartland and all that. We got a lot of friendly grief over the names when we were dating, and frequently when we meet new people, but it’s ok and just the way it is.

I’m unremarkable, I think – good looking enough, fit enough, tall enough, a good enough job, and so forth. I’m actually more than fortunate enough, though, having married clearly above myself, since Dianne’s a notch above “enough” in each of those first categories, not the 38EEE long-legged blonde bombshell who seem to populate these pages, but someone you’d say is good looking, looks maybe 35, tops, for her mid 40s age, keeps fit – brown hair, blue eyes, medium still very nice breasts (34B+s for the record), good ass thanks to exercise and diet and good genes, I guess. She looks like she could be a major cougar when she gets in a bikini or her running stuff or dresses for our occasional date nights; and when we’re out and about, I see guys giving her more than just a passing glance, in appreciation.

Now, being a guy, I wish I were just a bit taller, just a bit richer, in just a bit better shape, and of course were sporting another inch or so downstairs (alas, I’m the notorious statistically average, which means shy of 6″ if I get all honest about it, shy of internet amateur porn average by a good bit and way shy of professional porn average). Plus, I’m a grower, so no locker room pride for me, sigh. Where’s the justice anyway?

But there’s not a category I think I’d want to change about Dianne – she’s a terrific wife, great mother of our at-college daughter, and a fine fuck. Okay, maybe one category.

Dianne is pretty conservative when it comes to the fucking business. No pain is one of her boundaries, which is fine with me and would have caused problems with me if she were, but also no fantasizing, no real kinks in the bedroom, reluctant even to talk about what she clearly enjoys – seems very happy to be hetero and monogamous, orgasms pretty easily, not reluctant to give or take oral but sees penile penetration as the main course. I’d say she likes different positions, but she never initiates them or even reflects on them afterwards, just cooperates with my lead, and comes in about every one of them. Believe me, over the years, I’ve tried to “bring her out” to discuss sex with me, but to no avail. She’s always “what you do is just fine,” and “I don’t really remember the few other guys before you,” and even when she comes, it’s vocally little more than a whimper, maybe a gasp, maybe even an “Oh”.

That willingness to be led (within her bounds) and ease of orgasm make for a really good sex life; but as you can imagine, it is subject to getting a little stale after being a steady, if complete, diet for 20 years or so now. Ah well, still, life is good. I can still perform just fine, and the sight of her and the feel of her and the touch of her still prompt appropriate blood flow.

Now, you may agree with me that women have girlfriends. Men don’t have boyfriends. Men do, however, have friends, compadres, bubbas, bros, teammates. And it’s those friends who traditionally get them in trouble, right? You know, the “C’mon, they’ll never find out!” or the “Hey, watch this!” or the “You’re a wuss if you don’t!” drills. Frequently, adult beverages are involved, and machinery, or even weaponry – all in good fun, making great stories, sometimes downright bad stories.

But girlfriends – what are they all about, anyway? Someone to go to the bathroom with? Someone to have coffee with in the morning and commiserate with about the insensitivity of men?

Dianne isn’t surrounded by close friends, but she does have one since-childhood friend, Carol, who lives a traffic jammed hour or so plus on the opposite side of our metroplex area. Every several months or so, the two of them will get together just to visit, have lunch, or girl’s night out, or weekend away, that sort of thing. Two months ago, it was Dianne’s turn to overnight at Carol’s, which worked well since Carol’s husband, Tom, was going to be out of town on business. Dianne said they planned to do dinner then go back to Carol’s, watch a chick flick on TV, and drink more wine than they could if they went out. It was a Friday, which worked for all concerned, so I kissed Dianne goodbye on my way to the office, wished her safe travels and a good time with Carol, and went off to work, expecting Dianne home the next afternoon.

My plan for the evening included knocking back some bourbon, watching a football game I’d taped but hadn’t seen (I knew my team had won, and friends had relayed that there were some terrific plays on both sides), and eating something delicious and bad for me. I hadn’t worked out the last part – maybe grill a steak, maybe order a pizza delivery, maybe even skip the taped game and do a burger and whatever was on the sports channel at the local pub. Very guy all around.

On the way home from work, I figured I’d just go with the grilled steak and football tape option, so I stopped by the grocer, picked up a Bycasino really good looking ribeye and a ready-made salad to even out the digestion, and settled in for my guy’s night in while the girls were having their night out.

It was about 7 when I’d killed the steak (medium rare with a great charcoal sear, thank you very much), downed a beer beforehand and a bourbon with the steak (am I the man, or what), and was ready to settle in for the game, when the door opened and Dianne strode in. I was commando in some old decrepit gym shorts and a t-shirt, sporting a now seven o’clock shadow, certainly not dressed to impress, and surprised at her return.

Concerned that the old friends had had a tiff, I barely had time to stand and say, “Hey, babe – what’s going on?” when I saw a downright feral look in her eye – being a husband, I immediately scanned my memory, wondering if I’d really, really screwed up something. She walked up to me and grabbed me in a hug, then put a lip lock on me that was aggressive and out of the ordinary by far for her.

“Mmmmm,” she murmured, pulling back just a bit, her arms still around me, and mine naturally around her. Seeing the surprise in my face, she said, “What? Can’t a wife bring a little present to her husband?” and before anything else, I felt her hands reaching down into my shorts and tugging at my very surprised and wholly soft member. I stood there, pretty much in shock, as she surprised me further, kneeling and tugging my shorts to the floor. She downright engulfed my dick, easily fitting the whole thing in, and I could feel her tongue stroking and licking it. Still amazed at who this look-alike to my wife could be, my surprise was soon overcome by that glorious feeling. As she rolled my balls about in her fingers, (thankfully much more gently than the rest of her demeanor), I knew my willy was now swelling past the penis stage, well on its way to dick, hoping to make it all the way to cock before this ended.

Just as I was about fully hard – it must have taken a good thirty seconds at the rate she was going, she rose, turned on her heel, and said, “C’mon, big guy!” And with that, she sashayed down the hall to our bedroom, her hips swinging way more than usual. I wasn’t about to ask questions at the time – I was just trying to keep up with this new presence who looked a lot like Dianne. I almost tripped as I stepped out of the shorts, then I hurried to follow her, pulling off my t-shirt and watching her shed clothing as she went.

By the time we got to the bedroom, she was down to her attractive but hardly sexy bikini panties, which she pulled off as well. Standing there beside our bed, she beckoned to me and I happily joined her in a nude hug, my dick hard and happy at the new Dianne who seemed to have arrived.

Rubbing bodies, we kissed, my cock pressed against her belly, her breasts mashed into me, her tongue back in my mouth, dancing to its own beat as mine tried to keep up. Another “mmmm” escaped her, then she flopped backwards onto the bed, her feet still at the floor. I got the message and knelt to return the favor from moments before, pulling her knees across my shoulders as I teased her slit with my tongue, just barely touching it. I could tell, even at that point, that she was way wetter than usual. I always consider lubrication by the female to be a compliment to the male, but I wasn’t sure in this case – she’d certainly gotten a head start for some reason that I was too busy to worry about at the moment.

“Aaarrggh,” she growled at me, and her hands grasped my head and pulled. I got the message and decided the hell with subtlety, piercing her with my tongue, then lapping at her clit, hard. In about a minute, she came, hard, crying out (something she rarely does, even when obviously coming), her heels pressed into my back, her hands in my hair, keeping me pressed to her as she rode over the falls of the orgasm.

Finally, gasping and relaxing, she let go, and ordered me, “Now – fuck me!”

Reflecting that I couldn’t recall her talking like that, at least for the past few years, I climbed up, impaling my cock into her and ramming it just as forcibly as I could (with my knees practically falling back off the bed at the time). I managed to push her back, fucking with abandon. As I said, she was wet – ok, soaking – and offered little resistance to my intrusion. I wondered if she was loose or just wet, but then she came again, even harder, calling out my name interspersed with Joycean yesses. That, for whatever reason, pushed me in turn over the top, and I came quicker than I have in years, pumping into her and growling in frustration at my lack of control.

Each of us gasping in our own way, I collapsed on top of her for a moment, then regained my composure a bit and took the weight off her, but stayed inside as I softened. Finally, spent and breath collected and shrunken, I slipped out, then rolled over, pulling her with me so that she was at my side, her head cradled against my chest, her arm flopped over me, our legs somehow intertwined.

“Goodness, that was great – welcome back! You Bycasino giriş can be earlier than I expect anytime if you arrive like that!” I said, chuckling.

She seemed a little abashed, now collected and a bit satiated. It was like she was returning to her old self, not wanting to be brazen, just liking being there or something.

“Anything you’d like to talk about?” I queried.

“Nunh -uh,” she answered negatively, maybe evasively, I thought, and said nothing more. After ten or fifteen minutes of quiet cuddling, she extricated herself, padding off to the bathroom. She reappeared a bit later to go straight into her closet, then emerged at last, redressed in dowdy flannel pajamas. Show’s over, I reckoned, and went off myself, gathering my clothes and cleaning up. By the time I got that done, she was asleep. Whatever had happened, it was fine with me, and I knew her well enough to let her alone, at least for the time being.

The next day was a Saturday, and we’d gotten into a habit of having sex on Saturday mornings, without announcing or prepping, just taking time to brush our teeth and such before getting to it. It had become part of what was frustrating me in our placid sex life, and I was interested to see if it was going to change in light of the previous evening’s ravishment – of me, I suppose!

I awoke as usual, a bit before she did. I stole into the bathroom, turned on the fan for white noise, hoping not to wake her, and took my morning ablutions. After taking a leak, I used a washcloth to give my dick and balls a good scrub to eliminate any traces of our previous night’s tryst just in case. Then I shaved with my electric shaver, having coaxed out of her some years before that she wasn’t a fan of chin bristle, especially if it were nuzzling at her genitals. Finally I brushed my teeth, and returned to bed. All that was just typical Saturday morning. That way, whenever she woke up, I’d be clean and smooth and ready. When I got to the bed, trying not to waken her, she greeted me with a somewhat groggy “‘Mornin'” and as I got back under the sheets, she got up and went to the bathroom, performing her equivalent of my regimen.

As usual, I was left, waiting for her, and as usual, I manhandled myself while she prepped, not wanting to be less than ready for her return. I thought about the previous evening and listed the possibilities.

A: they went out, some guys flirted with them, it turned her on, she came home for satisfaction – nope, she was too uptight to be flirting in public, even with a best friend.

B: it was just hormones or the full moon or something – nope, since there had been ample hormones and moons over the years without such nice results.

C: I’m just irresistible and it finally occurred to her what a catch I am – more Ha! than nope on that one.

D: Clive Owen saw her in a bar with Carol, couldn’t resist Dianne, swept her up and ravished her right there in the bar, causing her after-great-sex guilt, which she ran home to assuage with me to cleanse her conscience – nope, now I was just making wondering into fantasizing for myself.

No way that last one was the reason, but the reflection had revived my dick in the meantime, and when Dianne returned from the bathroom, I was more than half hard and ready to play.

She crawled back under the covers with me

Starting with cuddling, as was our way, we held each other and gently stroked available skin. Kissing warmly at first, with increasing heat, I cradled her available breast, then worked my way down until my fingers were parting her trimmed but never shaved bush, parting her lips and teasing her clitoris, finding none of the lubrication of the previous evening. She wasn’t bone dry – she never is – but she was too dry to make fucking much of an option for the moment, which was fine with me. I moved downward, and she knew what was coming next and scrunched up to lie with her head on a pillow as I lay between her thighs, kissing and working my way back to where I’d been those hours before.

This time, my tongue found little of the copious lubrication, but I’m a fan of giving oral, so that was quite all right. In a few moments, my saliva and tongue had opened her, and I could hear her breathing deepening. A few moments more, moving from exploration to firm lapping up and down, then increasingly around her nub, and she came, sighing, with one arm over her eyes and the other squeezing her breasts against her chest – all familiar responses to me.

I moved up and had no need to touch myself, as my now hard cock knew its way and found it, sinking into the now wet and welcoming tunnel, home safe and snug.

I started the also familiar fucking, slowly and gently at first, then rising up in the push-up position so I could look down at her, seeing those lovely breasts and her half lidded eyes watching me, a slight smile indicating all was well with her, again, as usual.

Breaking the usualness of it all, I needed to know, “So, what was yesterday all about, anyway?”

“What do you mean?” she replied, not answering the question. I expected Bycasino güncel giriş as much.

“Well, you came home a day early – luckily, Fifi had just left,” I joked, “Fifi” being a fictitious affair she jokingly accused me of carrying on, just as I did with the anonymous Air Conditioning Repair Man with her, neither of us ever serious in the accusations, just play talk, and never even when in bed, since that would not suit her idea of normalcy in sexual matters.

“And, you rarely practically raped me when you came home, at whatever time,” I added, getting to the point. “Something had you turned on big time, which I was the beneficiary of, understand, and I thank you for it . . . I think . . . I just wonder what it was all about.”

“Well,” she started, then paused for a long moment, while I continued to fuck her slowly, watching her expression for hints of whatever. “Can’t we talk about this later?” she finally said.

“No, I don’t think so. Later means never, and the more you evade, the more curious, or even suspicious, I get.”

“OK then,” she said, a bit exasperated at knowing she needed to tell me and didn’t want to and hated as much as I did to lose in the argument business.

With that, she pulled me down to her, so I was fucking her still in the missionary position, but unable to watch her face. I nuzzled her neck instead. I was willing to go with that if she’d just open up, verbally that is, for once.

“Well, I got to Dianne’s and we were getting ready to go out. She had already gotten a head start on the wine, I could tell, so I insisted on driving to the restaurant we were going to. Long story shorter, she suggested we just stay in and do a quick bowl of pasta or something. That was ok with me, so we started fixing dinner, and we were just in the kitchen when she blurted out that she was having an affair!

“I was stunned and asked what had happened, and she said things were still fine with Tom, that she’d met a young guy, a David, who really rocked her boat. They were in some class together, and one thing led to another, and they flirted and ended up at his place in bed. She told me right off that she felt badly after their first time together and told Tom, ’cause she really loves him and couldn’t stand keeping the secret but was all worried that it would have really messed that up. She was wanting to leave it as a onetime mistake and try to make it up to him, but apparently Tom got all turned on by the idea. So now she gets together with this David guy once a month or so, and Tom is just fine with it, and she tells him everything in lurid detail when she comes home, and he makes love to her better then than he has for years. Tom doesn’t want to even meet David – he likes it better using his imagination, fueled by details from Dianne – really weird in my book, but she swears it’s working for them.

“Anyway, then she started telling me in that same detail just what this David does with her. She says the first time, he was really gentle, but sometimes he just ravishes her the minute she arrives at his place, or he at hers – he lives an hour away from her, out to the western edge of the city.”

“And her telling you this got you all hot and bothered?” I asked, still fucking in and out, steadily but pretty gently.

“Yeah, I guess it did. She can get pretty graphic, and she did, and she doesn’t mince words, so by the time I left, I’d felt I’d practically watched a porn movie of it or something.”

“OK, then, was it the dirty talk or the graphic details or both that got to you, or just thinking about the situation, or what?” I pressed.

“Why does it matter?” she countered, and I could see the defenses building.

“OK, look – I want to please you, and I want to turn you on, and I think that last night we both enjoyed the change of pace. Am I wrong there?”

“No, you’re not wrong, but don’t get the idea that I’m going to turn into some porno queen or something!”

“Obviously not, but you’ll have to admit, we’ve gotten pretty predictable in our lovemaking, and while I enjoy it, you know I want to know all about you, and sometimes I feel that you’re shielding some side of yourself – the side that got exposed a bit last night. And I think it would be great if every once in a while, we could play with that side, ok?”

“Yeah, I guess I can see how you would think that,” she admitted – a major victory for me!!

“So, back to you and Carol last night. Tell me – in fact, it might be easier if you just pretend you’re Carol and tell me what she told you last night.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she frowned. “For one thing, she wasn’t naked then, and she wasn’t screwing me when she was talking!” And at least she laughed at that.

“Oh, give it a shot. I’m not a critic – I’m just a husband who loves you and wants to find out more about what turns you on. So, ok, I’m Dianne – you don’t have to look at me if you don’t want to (I know I’m not as pretty as you!) – you’ve had some wine and are feeling pretty loose and you have a secret that you’re dying to share with your best girlfriend. And, I’ll just lie here,” I said, and I pulled out of her, reluctantly for me and I hoped for her at some level. I lay there on my side, Dianne still on her back. My dick was hard and wanted back in, but I was determined, so I just lightly fondled it a bit as I said, “while you talk.”

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