The next morning I turned over for our normal morning cuddle and while Margaret gave me an extra tight squeeze I craftily explored her unusually bare body. Her legs willingly opened allowing me to explore her still soaking wet pussy. “I’m still making your favourite nectar by the gallon” she said, “I think you had better go down for your breakfast drink”. This was the first time I had been invited for breakfast so I eagerly drank my heart out and soon gave her the first orgasm of the day. “I’m loving the new you” I said to which she replied “It’s all your fault – you awoke in me a long forgotten desire”. “I’m not complaining” I added. “How about making it real rather than imaginary? ” I cheekily asked. “I don’t want to talk about it, well not yet” she retorted “just enjoy things as they unfold”.
My heart was thumping and my imagination was running wild as I tried to come to terms with the possible can of worms we had just opened. I couldn’t wait to meet up with John and tell him what sort of reaction he had caused in my normally placid wife.
Breakfast was rushed as I was the keenest I had ever been to take the dog for her morning walk. Margaret noticed and said that she thought her husband was a dirty old sod and correctly guessed that I wanted to confess the recent activities to John. “I’ll be here with my nectar plant in overdrive” she said “so hurry back and tell me his reaction”. “Are you hoping that he will want to come round?” I enquired – “No comment” she smilingly replied.
As I walked towards where I knew I would meet John, I wondered why Margaret had suppressed the thoughts she had rediscovered after so long and what our married lives would have been like if those desires had surfaced earlier. Maybe my inability to give her a child could have been mitigated by the repeated attempts of a black man taking my place and knocking her up. Control your dirty thoughts, I told myself.
When John came round the corner towards me and Cara – our dog – he was looking very happy with himself so I asked him what had made him so cheerful. “After meeting your wife yesterday” he said “I was very impressed with her – she is lovely and when she gave me that lovely parting gift of a super inviting kiss, my imagination went into overdrive”. “Did you notice the bulge in my pants?” he asked. “No” I replied “I was too busy trying to hide my own!”. He went on to expand that he had observed similar signs to those he has seen in his previous meetings with married women. “Have you had sex with very many married women, then” I enquired – “Oh yes” he replied “quite a few, mostly with the husband’s knowledge and encouragement – it’s not that unusual among you white men!”. “Would you be interested in adding Margaret to your list of conquests? ” I hesitantly enquired “as I believe she likes you and is coming to terms with the fact that she wants you, although at the moment she appears reluctant to admit it”. “Despite the fact that she must have been drawing her pension for a few years now, I think she is lovely and I would very much like to pleasure her if you can get her to agree” he enthusiastically stated. “How do you feel about that? ” he then enquired. I responded by recalling the events of the previous evening and how we were both so turned on at her revelations. “Have you got a stiffy after telling me all that?” he enquired. “Just a bit” I replied explaining to him that I very rarely had a proper stiffy nowadays, although last night I probably would have got one even without the viagra. “Well I have – feel this” he responded as I felt him grab my hand and press it against his shorts. “Wow, that’s a wopper” I said, “Margaret will love this when she admits her desires, and hopefully very soon”. At this point, we had reached his house so as we said our farewells he said with a big smile on his face “You’ve got my contact details, please call if there is anything I can do for you both”.
The remainder of my walk was a bit of a daze as I mulled over in my mind how to encourage M. to explore, and hopefully enact, her teenage dreams.
As I walked through the door to our holiday cottage, I was greeted with calls from the bedroom saying “Come on, my pussy is overflowing – there’s some serious cleanup duties required here”. I gave Cara her drink and went to get mine. On entering the bedroom, I saw a sight I had never ever seen up to then – my wife was laying naked on the bed with her hand buried deep in her pussy. “What are you doing with the curtains open” I demanded “you could well have been seen by anyone walking down the road”. “I know” she replied “that’s what’s made me so wet – I noticed a number of shadows go past but unfortunately nobody came in to see if I was OK”.
Twenty minutes later, after a glorious cleanup session and a tremendous orgasm for M. she said to me “You had better stop now, or I will be too exhausted for later”. What could she mean, I thought.
Grabbing my semi-stiff cock, I began to stroke it to try and gain full hardness when she said “STOP – no pleasure for you, I want you to feel as horny as possible when we have our chat later”. “When” I asked to which she replied “later, I’m going to make you suffer for what you have started”. “That’s OK”, I responded “if I have to suffer, so that you can have greater pleasure, so be it”. Her eyes lit up and the biggest smile I have ever seen graced her face. “This is going to be fun” she bewitching declared.
to be continued . . .