Happy Place Pt. 02

"You didn't want to move up."

She was right. I was happy where I was. Money was good. I didn't like office politics either or having to play the game. I wondered why I was encouraging her to pursue something I would have hated. I figured because I sensed she wanted it and because she'd be a good executive. Besides, we weren't the same people. She liked some things I hated and I liked some things she hated. Office politics she found intriguing, not offsetting.

I accompanied her one evening to a sporting goods store. She modeled several golf outfits. The skirts showed off her tan muscular legs while the tops drew attention to her big breasts and being sleeveless, her muscular arms. Her time in the gym showed. I felt so out of shape and old standing next to her. I looked through her golf bag, cleaned the club heads, restocked it with tees and new balls. I went and bought her a couple of visors, pairs of socks, and new shoes.

"I'm happily shocked," she told me.

"Why?"

"Because I know how much you hate shopping."

"I still do, but it felt different this time."

She tilted her head, "I take it, different in a good way."

I nodded yes several times, "Sexy. Nothing I bought is sexy, but picturing you wearing them, like your new clothes you bought, makes me feel good."

She grinned, "You can say it. It turns you on. I noticed it the other day. I got a little wet modeling them for you."

"I didn't know. We didn't do anything when we got home."

"We don't always have to do something. Sometimes, anticipation is half the fun."

"True."

She laughed.

I asked what was so funny.

"I was just thinking you'll be the last man to see me in my outfits. Doesn't seem fair."

"But I'll have the most fun."

"True, unless some golf pro sweeps me off my feet."

What I said was so out of character for me, "I wish."

She stared at me, not sure if she had heard right.

"You wish?"

I couldn't tell if she was angry or not. Did she interpret my comment to mean I wasn't satisfied with our sex life? I thought about retracting it, but replace it with what, "I wish you wouldn't joke about other men"

That would have put a damper on things.

I changed subjects. She let it go. We turned in early. The bed felt huge as we stayed on our sides. There was a distance that hadn't been there earlier.

"I'm sorry Barbara. I was trying to match wits with you."

She answered, "I wasn't mad Joe. Your comment caught me off guard. How long have you had this wish?"

"Barbara, forever, but I never wanted it real. Just a fantasy. You're so beautiful while I'm so average. I always thought you deserved more. Men look at you."

"I know that. Tell me the first time."

"Remember the apartment complex manager when we got married?"

"Seriously? The one everybody called Skipper because he looked like the skipper from Gilligan's Island. He was a perv. He was always trying to put tanning oil on me. I'd get to the pool and a minute later he'd be in the pool area, asking me if I needed a drink, or anything in the apartment needing to be fixed."

"I saw you and him talking all the time."

"He was a good conversationalist and handsome even though he was almost thirty years older than us. Remember those tattoos he had. I talked to him because you were at work all day and I didn't have a job. So, you were hoping he'd have sex with me. I never knew I was married to such a perv."

Her tone told me she wasn't mad at me.

She said, "It's late and I've got a long day ahead of me, but here is something for you to dream about. After a few months of his pestering me to let him put lotion on me I said yes. I told him, 'Just my back.' I felt in control and I liked the attention. After doing my back a few times and seeing that he was behaving, I told him he could do the backs of my legs. He behaved the first couple of times. I got a little too comfortable with his hands. I was positive you'd either come home or one of the other tenants would tell you. I worried you would get real mad."

"Anyway, the pool is dead. I have a book and my Tab. I'm in that purple one piece you liked. Remember the zipper in the back, how you took a coat hanger and fixed it so I could zip it all the way up. The legs were cut real high. I'm outside reading and he shows up wearing a pair of speedos. Men in speedos you just don't see. He was in good shape for his age, very tan, no hair on his chest. He ignores me for ten minutes. He dives in, swims around, gets out, dives in again. He's very graceful on the board. I have sunglasses on so he can't see where I'm looking."

"I'm watching him. He's not skinny, but not fat. He's just a big man who is surprisingly graceful in the water. I've never seen you in speedos, but I doubt if you would fill then out the way he did his. It's like he had a banana and a couple of limes shoved in there. Do you know I drooled looking at that lump? It wasn't that I consciously wanted him, but on some primitive level, I did. My nipples got hard and my vagina lubricated. I could feel myself growing flush. I said aloud, 'Calm down Barb. You need the vapors.' I thought I was going to faint because looking at him made me lightheaded as that blood flowed to you know what and you know where."

"I decide I need to quit gawking because he'll be an even bigger pest. He swims laps. I read. I can't get comfortable. My hips are restless, courtesy of Skipper. I get up and jump in the pool. I ignore him, swim a dozen laps. He's watching me, resting against the side of the pool. I exit the pool. I know he's looking at my ass. I'm not ashamed to say I wanted him to. I towel off, then sit back down. I decide to do something totally out of character."

She stopped talking. She said she felt movement on my side. At first, she thought I was crying.

"Are you masturbating?". Her question wasn't a shout, but damn loud.

"You'd better stop unless you don't want to hear the rest. If I'm not cumming you're not cumming."

"I stopped."

"That's better. Shall I continue or do you need a minute?"

"I was pretty close. Give me a minute."

"Let me know when you're ready for me to continue."

My face to the wall, I stayed on my side. She turned over, but stayed on her side of the bed.

"I'm watching you in case you get any ideas. I guess you weren't lying about your fantasy. Like I said, I did something totally out of character. I think it was my reaction to visual stimuli. My hard nipples and lubricated vagina were certainly reacting physiologically. I swear my hips wouldn't stay still. I picked up the bottle of tanning oil, held it up so he could see, made a pouring motion. He swam to the ladder, grabbed the handles, and climbed out. I noticed the muscles in his arms and his lats as he got out of the pool."

"I lowered the upper half of the chair until it was level with the lower half. My heart was pounding. I rolled onto my stomach. He walked to the chair. He stood right by my head. I told him I didn't want to burn and asked if he minded. 'Of course not,' he answered. I had taken my sunglasses off. I was getting scared. I looked up and saw that banana in his speedos looked like it was firmer than earlier. I couldn't make eye contact. I rested my face on the chair, looking down. There were gaps in the straps. I looked at the concrete, watched an ant avoid the water."

"He pulled up a chair. I prayed he wouldn't talk because if he did I would bolt. My heart was pounding. I took in a deep breath, exhaled, then took another and slowly exhaled. He must have sensed I was within a hair's width of chickening out because he kept quiet. He moved my hair out of the way. Remember how long I used to wear it. He massaged my shoulders for a few seconds. His hands were strong, big, masterful. He moved my shoulder straps out of the way. With my zipper pulled all the way up, there really wasn't much of my back exposed."

"He unzipped my swimsuit. I started to say something. My mouth opened. I was going to say no, but didn't. That zipper started at the crack of my ass. He took both hands and tried to pull the suit apart to expose more of me. I felt a bead of sweat running down my crack. I knew I was exposed because I could feel the breeze on it. He gave up for the time being. There was plenty of my skin exposed for him to start. He squirted the tanning oil on me. My goal that summer was to be so dark. I remember how turned on you got by the contrast of my white breasts and ass to the rest of me. I regretted not wearing a bikini."

"He worked the oil into my shoulders massaging me as he did. His hands felt so different than yours, rougher, larger. He started working his way lower, but the suit got in the way. He spoke for the first time in what had to be ten minutes. 'Tsk, tsk,' he said expressing his annoyance. I swear I had a flashback to grade school when the nun would say that after measuring the length of my skirt to my knee as the priest would look on. Skipper became that authority figure and I the schoolgirl defying authority. He took my shoulder strap and pulled it down my arm. It would have been so easy to stop him."

"But I didn't. I bent my arm and pulled it through. He reached over and did the other side. Water or sweat dripped off his body onto mine. I could feel his breath on my skin. He wasn't through. He grabbed the top of my suit and peeled it down. I lifted my torso off the chair. I was topless. The upper half of my body was now exposed. 'Much better,' he said aloud but it wasn't directed to me but himself. His hands roamed all over my back and sides. He felt me tense up."

"'We're the only ones at the pool. If I see someone I'll stop.' I knew it would be hours before you got home, but I was paranoid about being caught. I spoke for the first time asked him what time it was. He chuckled and said we had plenty of time. He worked one side of my body with both hands reaching across me. I wished he had four hands.

"He's working on my left side up by my boob. His hand is oily, the angle is awkward. He's feeling a lot of side boob. I turn my body ever so slightly and raise my left shoulder as his hand inches forward. He now has my whole breast in his hand. He goes for my nipple, removes his hand, applies more oil, comes back for a second go. There's no pretense this time. I turn so he can touch my breast. He's rougher than you, but it feels good. He's rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefingers, tugging at the nipple. I've got my eyes closed to block out everything. I want to hump the chair, but I don't."

"I don't want him to stop, but I don't want to encourage him. That sounds crazy now but I believed it back then. That was his right hand massaging my breast, but his left was also busy. He picked up the bottle, squirted it on the top of my crack, and worked his hand under my suit. He began to knead my buttocks. It felt so good."

"Then he stopped and told me, 'Other side.' He stood up. I turned my head to glance at him. I didn't want eye contact, but I wanted to know what effect I was having on him. The head of his cock and another four inches of his shaft were exposed. I really thought I was seeing things. There's no way they get that big, but I wasn't seeing things and they really do get that big. He must not have noticed me peeking or chose to ignore it. He could tell I needed special handling. Say the wrong thing, a door slam, a person cough, or heavens forbid, the gate to the pool being opened. I was never so happy as I was that day the pool had the tall privacy fence. I used to hate that gate because it was so hard to unlock and then it squeaked so loud when it opened and closed."

"That gate, along with lust, kept me in that chair. He walked around, pulled up another chair, and sat down. I turned my head towards his direction, but kept my eyes closed.

He now used his left hand on my side and his right on my ass. His hands were slick, but he still squirted more oil on me. I took a quick look. The head of his cock was purple, the color and size reminding me of a plum. From its tip, there was a bead of clear fluid hanging. I was in disbelief that he didn't care that half his cock was exposed."

"He ran his right hand down my crack, teased my anus. He pressed against the ring, then backed off, then pressed again. I squirmed thinking he'd stop, He fucked my bottom with his middle finger. I had never had anything up there. I opened my eyes and stared at his cock. I wondered if he was fingering my ass to loosen me up. I was a virgin back there. I thought, no way it will fit in my ass. I was on fire."

"He saw me looking and smiled. I weakly smiled back. He later said I looked terrified. I told him I was more than terrified. I had visions of us getting caught, my marriage over, but lust is a strong force. It overrides logic and even love. Lust makes you not care who the other person is or even the consequences. The right moment any of us could succumb to it like I did that day and for many days after."

"He was done with my asshole for that day, but he wasn't done with me. He grabbed each side of my swimsuit where it was rolled down. 'Up.' I lifted my hips, Joe. He leaned forward and pulled them down to my knees. 'Up.' He tugged them past my knees. I kicked them off with my feet. 'Over.' I turned over. My eye lids were heavy with want. My defenses gone. I had surrendered my body to his."

"I knew what was going to happen. It was inevitable, if not that day, another day. There was no turning back, no putting the genie back in the bottle. I planted my feet on each side of the chair. The concrete was hot. He pulled his speedo down. His cock bobbed like a thick tuning fork seeking moisture. He got on top of the chair. I remembered thinking I hope it doesn't collapse. I was the one who reached down between us. I placed that bulbous head at the entrance of my vagina. There was no kissing. He said, 'You're tight.' He was only an inch inside of me and already it felt better than any of the times you and I had intercourse. Another inch felt even better. I moaned. Then it was three, four, five, six, seven, then eight. I dug my nails into the back of his arms. I brought my legs up and squeezed them against his hips. I crossed my feet at the ankle resting them on the back of his calves."

"His cock felt wonderful. We didn't speak. When I came I buried my face into his sweaty chest. I hated having to be quiet because I so desperately wanted to scream, thrash around, talk to him like the whore that I was. Our first fuck was quiet. You know how I dilate when I orgasm. My vagina opened for him but unlike your penis it didn't swallow him. I could feel every delicious inch of his manhood. I remembered thinking for a nanosecond we weren't using protection, but I really didn't care. Besides it was too late. He was seconds from cumming and I really didn't want him to pull out. Grunting, our flesh slapping against each other. His body stiffened as his thrusts became harder. He came in me."

"We quickly separated. He put his speedos back on and I my swimsuit. There was no time to bask in the afterglow. Guilt immediately set in. I picked up my things. My body was shaking. He said he knew better than to stop me, that anything he said would only worsen my feelings of guilt. I got into the apartment, sat on the toilet, tried to expel as much of him as I could. I wiped. His cum was all over the tissue, I held it up to my nose and inhaled its distinct aroma. I stuck my tongue out and tasted it. I got in the shower. I used the wand to wash my genitals. I had to wash the crack of my butt several times to get rid of all the oil."

"I put on panties and a bra then shorts and a T-shirt. I looked at the clock. You'd be home in an hour. I made your favorite meal. I was going to spoil you starting the second you walked through that door. The funny thing about doing something so bad that felt so good is that people minimize, rationalize, or even dismiss the severity of their wrongdoing. I had committed adultery. I left the pool so ashamed. I was going to confess everything, throw myself at your feet, beg for mercy, but when I expelled his semen, saw it floating in the toilet, and after I wiped gobs of it on the tissue, followed by me sniffing and then tasting his cum, I was only thinking about how to conceal my crime. I had wronged you, but I could take my secret to the grave."

I asked Barbara if something happened that day to trigger a memory in me.

"Why?" she asked.

"I just want to have a specific day in mind, not the date or the day of the week."

She put her hand on my arm.

"You can do it now."

"Do what?"

"Masturbate."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

She moved closer to me. I had never shoved my penis back into my bottoms from when she stopped me earlier.

"I'll answer your question. You worked construction in those days. Long hours in the heat. Filthy, tired. I greeted you at the door and pointed you to the shower. You took a shower, I laid out a fresh pair of underwear for you. You still slept in those white briefs. I had bought you new ones. It was nearly seven. You'd be going to bed in a few hours because you had to be at the site at five. We had already gotten into a routine of weekend sex. I couldn't blame you for being so tired during the week. "

"I definitely overcompensated that night. I poured you a beer into a frosted mug, I hugged you and kissed you a lot, told you how much I missed you. You actually looked at me weird. I thought I was making you suspicious. I served you your dinner, then my plate. We ate. I didn't tell you at all about my day. I was afraid I'd slip up and make you suspicious. I realized I had a very manipulative side of me. I'm sucking up to you, but in the back of my mind I'm figuring out when Skipper and I can get together."

"We finish our meal. I even do the dishes which was your job back then, I pour you another beer. I join you on the couch, I'm on my knees. I give you a back rub, tell you your muscles are all knotted. I'm thinking of Skipper's hands massaging me. After seeing and being on the receiving end of his cock I'm comparing him to yours which is totally unfair. I know I could never get his cock all the way down my throat but I want to try. Who knows, with enough practice I might be able to. I think about sword swallowers and how they train themselves."

"I know I smell good, all nice and clean. You're relaxed, almost done with your second beer. I change my mind on what I'm going to do to make my unfaithfulness up to you. I rub your chest, play with your nipples, even suck on them. You squirm. I know you're hard. I ask you if you want to try something new. I take your hand and place it on your penis. Am I jogging your memory Joe?"

I grunted out a yes. I'm pumping hard, but I'm having a mental block preventing me from climaxing.

Barbara reached under the covers. Her hand is on the back of mine, her breath in my ear. She continued.

"I tell you I have a cold sore. I ask you to masturbate for me. You look very uncomfortable. I use my little girl voice and beg. You peel off your underwear, just to the knees. You begin masturbating. We French kiss as you Jack off. It doesn't take long. You climax, but remember to aim it at your abdomen so it doesn't end up on the couch or the floor. I tell you it was hot. I tell you to stay seated. I get up, wet a dish towel and mop up your semen. I even kiss your little pecker. You asked, 'Why are you so good to me?' I answer, 'because I love you.' Do you remember what happened after?"

I groaned yes and broke through that mental block. Barbara had graciously put her hand in front of my penis. Catching it in the palm of her hand, she now rubbed it all over my penis. The feeling was phenomenal and immediately made me think of sloppy seconds and everything I had read about the incredible sensation of a vagina freshly coated with ejaculate.