After Bad News…


Feel-good sex after bad news

My husband of 29 years had been dropping email hints for a couple years now he thought I deserved freedom from our somewhat-peculiar marriage. He was always on the road a lot for work, sometimes for weeks at a time. I was the work-from-home mom, raising the kids, taking them to hockey and suchlike.

Then he amped-up the hints just recently, culminating in a “property agreement settlement, pending divorce” which he had delivered to me by certified mail. I was floored – I had been all for trying to make the marriage work, seek counseliing for us, etc.

I found out HE was in the process of buying another house (credit reports can be a wonderful thing) – and wait, there was a vaguely familiar address showing up, too. Didn’t we know a woman at that address? I quickly verified. YES. What else could I dig up about her?

At that point, it took a very, very short time to turn up online evidence my beloved husband had been living a double life for several years. Now it all made sense. I was devastated. I called up a friend, almost in shock. My son would be home from work in a few minutes, but the friend insisted on coming over the next day, as soon as my son left for work.

The weather was terrible that day – torrential rain and winds making the hour-plus drive far longer than it should have been. But I was so relieved to see Ian pull up and I opened the garage door to let him in, out of the rain.

We hadn’t really seen too much of one another lately (Ian and myself) – neither of us cares for the office much, so we both work from home a lot, chatting on the phone or on Skype most days, as time permits. Ian is the same age as myself (early fifties) and is trapped in a sex-less marriage.

We hugged, we commiserated, we hugged some more and I laid out everything I knew. I really wasn’t coping with this double life thing well at all. He had taken HER on all the exotice vacations I had always wanted to go on. He had claimed almanbahis adresi he was overseas when in fact he was a few towns over, with HER!

I felt almost naked. I wanted Ian to know EVERYTHING – my cheating husband’s salary, the size of his tiny dick – everything.

When I took Ian upstairs to show him the extent of my husband’s clothing collection, he expressed awe at the size of our (admittedly large) bedroom and master bathroom suite. I stood there, next to the bed and lamented about the lack of physical affection in my now-dead marriage. It had probably been fifteen years since my husband last touched me in a sexual way. I told Ian about how I was well-used to “taking care of myself”, whenever the need hit me.

We looked at one another, the tension in the air palpable. “I could take care of you..” Ian ventured, looking from me to the bed and back again, “I would very much like to take care of you – we’re both in a situation where we could use that.”

He stepped closer, until we were almost toe-to-toe on the beige carpet. He had kicked off his shoes in the foyer before stepping onto the carpeted stairs (so thoughtful!) and I was barefoot. Ian looked me in the eye and positioned his hands on my waist, waiting to see my reaction. I didn’t blink, I hesitated maybe five seconds before uttering “yes”, in a lot huskier a tone than I had intended.

I let him move his fingers to the waistband of my pants and begin to pull them down. We didn’t even kiss (just as well, really – I still hadn’t brushed my teeth that morning!). He shimmied the pants down over my hips, pushing them to my lower legs where I kicked them off.

Having knelt down to do this, Ian’s face was now almost level with my crotch. I keep the area around my cunt (I hate the word “pussy”) hair-free with regular shaving, but I don’t care for waxing. Ian leaned in closer to my cunt and breathed deeply. I hadn’t had a man want me like that since BEFORE I was married!

Now almanbahis adres it was my turn to remove a piece of my clothing – cardigan and panties in quick succession, leaving me in just a Texas A&M t-shirt and a sports bra. Ian looked stunned to see my shaven cunt up so close, even though my thighs were still pretty much together.

Ian got back to his feet and turned to pull the bed-covers down on my side, indicating to me where he’d like me. I was happy to comply, laying down and letting my left leg drape a little off the edge of the bed, exposing my privates to him like nobody other than my OBGYN had seen in many years.

Without even removing any of his clothing, Ian leant forward, placing his head upon my right thigh and gazing up in turn at my face and at my exposed cunt. I needed to be loved. I needed to be reassured I was a desirable woman. I needed to know men wanted me for more than just housekeeping.

Ian shifted his head a little and extended hsi tongue, lapping up from the middle of my cunt up to where my clit was hiding. He repeated those actions several times, probing a little more firmly each time, ultimately slipping his tongue along the inside of my private furrow. That last motion did the trick and managed to tease my clit out from under its protective hood. The sensation of his tongue directly on my clit set of firecrackers in my head. Nobody had done THAT since before I was married, either!

My gift-from-heaven friend was getting really into this now. The slurping noises coming from our mutual contact were sounding quite rude, but giving at least one of us so much pleasure, especially when he extended a finger of his right hand and slipped it inside my neglected cunt. He manipulated his hand around such that he could hook his finger upward, toward that hard-to-reach spot (I can never reach it with my own fingers) inside me. Oh, he got there, all right!

I pressed my pelvis back into the mattress as he applied a gentle tickiing almanbahis adresi motion to my G-spot. I squirmed as his tongue progressed to almost strumming on my clit. I had never been able to create these sensations when I took care of myself. I had been missing-out, big-time. What Ian was doing was wonderful and my husband was such a loser!

Then Ian shuffled his left hand up and under the right thigh, while simultaneously continuing the sweet, firm licks of my clit and the tickling of my neglected G-spot. I wasn’t long for this world – I suspected I would very soon be in heaven.

So close, so close. I reached down with my right hand and rested it on Ian’s head, giving him the tactile feedback he was doing just great, nearly there. I could feel my muscles and nerves in my lower body and legs start to twitch. So close, so close.

That was when he played his trump card – sliding his right hand a little more centrally under me and applying pressure with his thumb (I assumed it was his thumb) around my asshole (and I don’t mean my husband). I’ve NEVER been touched back there before, even before I was married. I had no idea it was such a sensitive area when I was already turned-on. It also felt so wrong that it HAD to be good. I’m not sure if Ian was actually trying to penetrate me ‘back there’, for he just kept applying pressure all around my exit. Whatever his intent, it had the desired effect.

I exploded. Fireworks, thunder, angels singing, the whole works. I had never, ever had an orgasm like that in my entire life. I was literally twitching and spasming for minutes while Ian kept his one finger (maybe it was two by now, I wasn’t real clear) on my G-spot and his thumb against my asshole. Fortunately, he knew enough to retract his tongue from my over-sensitized clit! It was all I could do to just lay there, panting quietly for a few minutes, while I started to recover from that wonderful, wonderful experience.

Ian withdrew his fingers from me (that was when I realized he had two fingers inside my cunt) and sucked them clean, looking me in the eye the whole time. He told me how wonderful I tasted and any man would be a fool to turn down something like that from a woman as desirable as me.

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