Looking back, I have often wondered why my ex-wife and I kept vowing, after each sexual encounter, never to allow ourselves to be intimate again. Maybe it was because we were raised the “old fashioned” way: sex only between married partners. Maybe it was the fact that I had remarried. Maybe it was because we were both frightened as to where it all might lead. But, just as waters flood through a crumbled earthen dam, my ex and I had breached the wall holding our passions in check.
Though futilely fighting our rising sexual desire for each other, we began writing Emails every day. We talked on the phone every chance we got. We met for lunch several times. But we avoided being alone together. I stopped going to her house to give computer lessons. We continued to promise each other that there would be no more sex. As fortune would have it, however, our good intentions were not destined to last.
Our daughter’s best friend was to be married. My ex and I were both invited. We agreed to sit together during the wedding.
She was waiting outside when I arrived at the church. She looked ravishing in her black pantsuit. My ex is just over five feet tall and weighs about a hundred pounds. Her auburn hair had begun graying on the sides. In spite of being a grandmother, she had beylikdüzü escort a figure that women half her age would die for. I told her that she looked good enough to eat. She smiled and said, “Remember our promise.”
We took our places and sat down. My ex-wife sat on the end so that she could videotape our daughter in the ceremony. When the music began, her hand found mine. We allowed our knees to touch. Careful not to let others see, I began running my fingers up and down her thighs. She parted her legs and began stroking my thighs. I made my way to her mound and, through her pants, ran a finger up and down her opening. She reached over and began squeezing my erection. I felt her body shift and a low “mmmmm” escape her lips. Startled, we drew apart, passing a look of longing between us. The music ended, and though disappointed, we knew she had to start the camcorder.
After the wedding, we lingered outside talking and agreeing that we just had to stop torturing ourselves. We decided that we would stop writing Emails and making phone calls. That promise lasted less than a week.
She called one morning, apologizing, saying that she just wanted to hear my voice. I thanked her for calling, told her how beyoğlu escort wonderful it was to hear from her, and promised to write her an Email right away.
Several days later, she sent an Email saying that she had an afternoon off the following Tuesday. I wrote back that I could free myself then and, if she wanted, why didn’t she come to my house for a tour. I promised her that I would behave myself. Her return message said that she would eat lunch, change clothes, and be there at 1:00 PM.
When she arrived, I told her how sexy she looked in the sweater and jeans. She thanked me, lightly kissed me on the lips, and said, “I’m ready for the tour.” I took her on a circular route around the house, ending in my bedroom.
I stood at the foot of the bed and looked at her. She came to me. I lay back pulling her on top of me. The desire we both had tried so hard to contain, overpowered us. Our lips met and we hungrily explored each other’s mouth with our tongues. I grabbed her buttocks and pulled her tight to me, my hard erection nearly pushing through her jeans. We moved in rhythm, enjoying the friction of our bodies against each other. Unexpectedly, she grimaced and her body shuddered. Holding tightly, she pressed bizimkent escort hard against my groin, and, with a moan of pleasure, a powerful orgasm swept through her body. Quickly, she picked up the rhythm again and brought herself to a second one.
She rolled off of me. Hurriedly, she undid my pants and pulled them down. She leaned down and kissed my lips with unbridled passion. One hand found my erect penis; the fingers of the other began teasing my scrotum. Now, I was the one moaning with pleasure. She moved her hand up and down on my erection, my body bucking in response. She took my penis in both hands, rubbing back and forth. I felt my testicles drawing upward and, with an explosion of semen, I came with relief. Remembering what I enjoyed, she ran a finger around the tip of my penis as it softened.
For several minutes, we lay silently side-by-side.
I asked, “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know, but I can’t stand the torture any more,” she answered.
I said, “We can keep trying to control ourselves with no Emails and phone calls, but not communicating with you just makes it worse or me.”
“Me too,” she replied.
After thinking for a moment, I said, “Let’s try this then. Why don’t we get together when our desire for each other needs relief?”
“That sounds good to me. We won’t have to try to control our feelings and avoid each other. We’ll know we can have each other when we need to,” she responded.
I walked her to the door. We shared a tender kiss. As I watched her leave, I felt a contentment knowing that we would be together again soon. That story is for the next chapter.