Pat's Lover

Likewise my legs which, a little marked at the top of the thighs with childbearing, were also still capable of drawing male eyes. I took to wearing shorter skirts, or letting the hem ride up when in a longer skirt.

If poor Jeremy had any sexual interest me, he must have been very confused at my mixed signals.

Thus, two people seemed to be at war in me. One struggled for the old safety and respectability, the other demanding gratification whatever the cost. With such utter confusion raging within me, there had to come a crisis time.

It came as might be expected, during one of Edgar’s absences on branch visits.

It had become a habit to give Jeremy a peck on the cheek when leaving for and arriving home from work. He also got a peck when we said goodnight.

The second evening of Edgar’s absence Jeremy and I had been watching a video that had some rather explicit sexual scenes in it. We had been sitting side by side on the sofa, and when the film ended, I was in a tumult of sexual arousal. I looked over at Jeremy, and his condition was, unlike mine, very visible.

His penis was sticking out like a great tower. I still did not associate this with me, but with the video, we had just watched. I decided to flee, fearing, not what Jeremy might attempt, but what I might do.

I stood to say goodnight and Jeremy stood with me. “Good night, Jeremy,” I managed to gasp, “I must have a shower and go to bed.”

“Goodnight, Pat.”

I reached up to give him his usual peck on the cheek, but he turned to face so his lips met mine. They were soft and warm.

I fled.

Showered I fell into bed, emotionally exhausted. The confusion, the endless craving, and now the sight of his erect manhood and that gentle kiss, had driven me to the point where my mind had to retreat from its tumult. I escaped into sleep.

Even in sleep I could not escape what I was now forced to admit. Age barriers and the fiction of maternal affection departed. I dreamed and the dream would not let me lie. I wanted Jeremy as I had never wanted any man, even my erstwhile-married lover.

In my dream, Jeremy lay beside me, tenderly caressing my breasts. I sighed out my love for him, but as is so often the case with dreams when the critical moment comes, as his hand sought my vagina, I began to wake.

It was a slow awakening as I fought to hold on to my dream, longing for the completion I craved. Then in the haze of coming up from the depths of sleep, while its mists still clouded my brain, I felt a hand cupping my breast through the cloth of my nightdress.

Still not sure whether I was dreaming, I had an absurd moment when I thought, “My God, Edgar has come back early and has found his virility again.”

As the mist cleared, I knew. The firm body pressing against my back, the strong muscular arm reaching over me to touch my breasts, could not belong to poor Edgar. It was Jeremy.

As I was to learn from him later, he too had reached the critical point in our relationship. He had wanted me almost from the first, but had hidden it until he learned…but more of that later.

He had slipped into my room and got into bed with me while I slept. It was the desperate action of a young man frustrated beyond endurance.

I felt him turning me on to my back. He bent to kiss me and as he did so, he drew up my nightdress to expose my breasts. They were naked under his gently caressing hand.

“I want you Pat, I want you so badly.”

For all my desire, I began to resist. Since Edgar had given up having sex with me long ago, I had ceased to take any precautions against pregnancy. As much as I had longed for Jeremy, I had never expected anything to happen between us, so I was unprotected.

“No…no…no…Jeremy. Please don’t, darling, you’ll make me pregnant. Please…no…not now…please…”

I went on with my pleas, but they lacked depth of conviction.

As in my dream, his fingers sought my vagina, but this time I did not wake. This was reality.

I felt him stroking my mons, and then on to softly massage the outer lips of my vagina, kneading them apart to insert a finger into my opening.

The immense discharge of my lubricants gave the lie to my protests and pleading for him to stop.

He came over me, parting my unresisting legs and probed with his shaft to gain entry into me. For all my protestations, I now surrendered to him, guiding him into me, careless of the possible outcome.

His length slid into me, the first man who had entered me for many years. It was almost like being taken for the first time, except there was no hymen to split, and I did remember some of the more pleasurable techniques of love making.

We were hot and hungry for each other, and I could almost feel the pulsating of Jeremy’s heart through his blood-engorged penis as it penetrated deep into me.

I gripped him with my vaginal muscle and this brought a groan of ecstacy from him.

For myself I was aware that I was giving out with little yelping cries, but it was like hearing someone else. I was carried away in a swirling constellation of stars, spinning in a kaleidoscopic delirium of sexual seventh heaven.

We had repressed our desperate craving for each other for so long, that now there was no hope of holding back our orgasms. I know I pleaded with Jeremy not to make me climax. I don’t know precisely what I said during that wild coupling, but I heard my voice, again as if coming from someone else, crying out, “Don’t Jeremy, don’t make me come, its agony.”

My cries only increased the speed and intensity of his thrusting in and out of me. Then I felt the first distant vibrations of my orgasm. It approached like a threatening storm raising little gusts at first but coming on with ever growing force until its full power thundered over me.

My whole body was shuddering and the kaleidoscope whirled even faster flinging me into a vortex of screaming exultation.

At the climactic moment, I heard another voice, not my own, give a long drawn out moan followed by jerking yelps. I felt hot semen being punched into me, lunge after seemingly endless lunge, driving the sweet fluid deep.

In the midst of my own crazed climax, I could sense Jeremy’s frenetic urgency as he discharged into me. The poor boy’s need rivaled, even surpassed, my own drastic urgency.

The storm raging in me began to abate a little, but Jeremy was still filling me with his sperm as if he would never cease. As our intermingled fluids began to flow out of me Jeremy gave a long, sobbing sigh, and his ejection stopped.

I was aware that I had wrapped my legs round him, and he had his hands under my buttocks, and still experiencing the after gusts of my storm, I clung to him, not wanting him to pull out of me until my turmoil had calmed. I need not have worried. He lay on me, heavy and relaxed, showing no sign of parting from me.

He was speaking to me and his words seemed incongruous. He was apologising, begging me to forgive him for what we had just done.

“Pat I’m so sorry…I’ve wanted you for so long…I love you so dearly and I tried…I tried so hard not to show it…but tonight…after what I learned today…I just couldn’t hold back any more. Forgive me…”

“Forgive you for what, darling.”

“For forcing…raping you…I…”

“Darling, you didn’t rape me. Surely you could feel how I gave myself to you, readily and willing?”

“But you said ‘no’…”

“I did, but that wasn’t because I didn’t want you. I was afraid of you making me pregnant, but suddenly it didn’t seem to matter, I think I may even have wanted you to impregnate me.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts’, my love. I’ve been holding back from you as well.”

“Oh my God, Pat. You love me?”

“Yes Jeremy, I love you, but what I would like to know, is what you meant by, ‘after what I learned today’. What was it you learned that broke down the barrier?”

“About you and Edgar.”

“What about me and Edgar?”

“Well, I guessed that you and he didn’t…didn’t do what we have just done, but what I didn’t know was about his other woman.”

“What are you talking about, Jeremy? How could there be another woman? To put it bluntly, Edgar hasn’t been able to get it up for years.”

“Oh my God, then you don’t know…”

“Jeremy, I may love you, but you’re beginning to annoy me. I want to know what I don’t know, now.”

“Pat, Edgar has had another woman for years.”

I was flabbergasted and still somewhat disbelieving. “Who is this supposed woman?”

“There’s nothing supposed about her, Pat. Edgar takes her away with him when he goes on his branch visits. Everyone in the office knows about Edgar and what they call “His fancy bit.”

“Who is she?” I yelled.

“She used to be the receptionist at the office years ago. She and Edgar started an affair. When the manager found out what was going on, he asked her if she didn’t think another place of employment might suit her better. He even went so far as to get her the offer of another job. She left but the affair continued.”

“I don’t know how she works it, but whenever Edgar goes on branch visits, she goes with him. People in the branches thought at first she was his wife, but eventually it came out who she was.”

“Did they tell you how long its been going on for?”

“I gather for about sixteen years.”

My God, so that was it. The rotten swine couldn’t screw me because he was screwing his other woman. No wonder he always looked so happy when he was off on his visits, and returned looking nicely tanned and relaxed. They must enjoy some lying around on beaches between business. I wondered what she found in such a mediocre lover.

The lousy bastard! I’d gone without all those years, while he was…I was humiliated, and felt utterly foolish for not having guessed what had been going on all that time. I began to cry.

Jeremy had by then withdrawn from me, but he held me in his arms saying, “I’m sorry Pat, truly sorry. I thought you must have known. I thought you and Edgar just had a convenient arrangement.”

“Convenient,” I exploded through my tears. ”Convenient for him, certainly, but what about me? Nice little woman keeping home for him, looking after his kids, and all that, and he’s off fucking someone else. My God, Jeremy, if I’d known, how long do you think I’d have kept my hands off you?”

“Jeremy, you said you love me. You’d better be sure of your words, because, by God, I love you and I’ll cling to you like a leech.”

“What about Edgar?”

“I’ll deal with him, the deceiving bastard. It’s you I’ve got to be sure of.”

“I love you, Pat. Almost from the time I first met you I’ve said to myself endlessly, ‘If only she were married to me’.”

“And how would you feel being married to a pregnant old woman?”

“It’s you, who say you’re old, Pat not me. All the people at the office can’t understand how, having a lovely wife like you, Edgar can go off with the other one. I have never seen her, so I can’t comment, but that’s what they say.”

“Suppose I’m pregnant?”

“My worry would be your welfare.”

“Not having to support a kid?”

“No.”

“Is it love or just sex talking?”

“I’ve said I love you, Pat. I don’t say something like that idly.”

“Right, Jeremy. We’ve made a terrible mess in this bed and so, we are going to take a shower, change the bed sheets, and begin at the beginning.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if we are going to be lovers, we’ll do it properly. You’re the first man I’ve had in years, and my love, if you mean what you say, you’ll be the only man in the rest of my life. I shall be totally available to you, okay?

He laughed, “Okay.”

We showered together, paying particular attention to each other’s erogenous zones. At one point, I was picked up bodily, and then felt Jeremy’s penis slide into me. It was another brief coupling with barely any movement. It was as if just being inside me was sufficient to bring Jeremy to orgasm. “There’s going to be some changes there,” I thought, as we engaged in another bout of genital cleansing.

Returning to the bedroom, we changed the sheets, laughing at the sticky mess that we had made during our recent congress.

I did not need to trouble myself about instituting change; Jeremy did that without any prompting. It was play time, and he became an ardent lover of my body, and I of his.

We lay facing each other, our mouths locked together, tongues seeking the inner recesses. Jeremy’s hands roamed my breasts, gently squeezing my nipples until, breaking from our kissing he took a nipple into his mouth and suckled me.

I have often wondered about the attraction of the breasts, and especially the nipples. Why is it that one’s sexual partner longs to suck those little nubs, and why is the recipient so captivated by this action?

Is it because the cessation of breast feeding is such a traumatic event for both mother and child, that ever after there is a longing to return to the primal source of nourishment?

I don’t know the answer, but I do know I felt the joy or Jeremy’s suckling. Waves of tender love flowed through me, and I longed to nourish him with my mother’s milk, but of course, there was none.

As his lips and tongue continued to caress my nipples, I felt his hand seek my vagina, and finding my clitoris, he gently circled it with his finger, bringing me almost to screaming point.

I reached a level of arousal when restraint broke. For all his strength and size, I broke from him, pushing him onto his back, and sat astride him, bringing my vagina to his lips.

He knew what to do, and with his hands holding on to my thighs, his tongue flashed into me, licking and probing for my depths. I pressed down on him, forcing his tongue to my clitoris.

This time there was no preamble to my orgasm, no warning of its approach. It exploded in me, dragging out screams of rapturous exhilaration. I felt a sudden burst of my lubricant that must have soaked Jeremy’s face, and as the summit of my climax passed, I poured out my love and desire for him, weeping and sobbing with joy.

As I calmed a little I began to kiss my way down his body until, reaching his penis, I took it into my mouth. I heard him cry out with delight as I first licked the head of his manhood, then gradually worked my way down his shaft.

I tasted his precum that was flowing liberally, and carefully felt his testicles with my hand. They seemed tender and swollen. After two ejaculations into me, I wondered at is ability to produce so much sperm. In the midst of this thought, I felt his hands behind my head. He was pulling me firmly onto his shaft.

He lunged, and with a cry of “Oh, Pat, my love,” his sperm exploded into me. I tried to swallow it, but it was too much. It began to run out of the corners of my mouth on to his lower belly and thighs.

Just as I thought he would never stop discharging, he sighed and relaxed. I tried to suck the last of his semen out of him, and then saying, “Now taste yourself, you beast,” I kissed him, pushing his sperm into his mouth. At the same time I could smell and taste my own fluids still bedewing his lips and face.

We fell apart, joyously relaxed, exulting in the happiness we had brought to each other.

Nothing in my limited experience with lover and husband had matched this union. If, however, I thought it was over for that night, I was wrong.

Jeremy’s hand was once more fondling my breasts. I was lying on my back, and after a few moments of breast touching, Jeremy spread open my legs and entered me again.

The wild urgency was gone, and for a long time, he was content to lay with his penis inside me, unmoving. It was as if he simply wanted to be at one with me, to enjoy the sense of unity, a man with a woman, belonging.

We spoke almost in whispers of the love we felt for each other, at times unable to find the words to describe the depths of our emotions. It was as if we had entered some spiritual realm, where all words are inadequate.

At last he moved, but not with the explosive energy he had exhibited before, but slowly as if savouring every moment, every flex of my vaginal muscle.

Then he came. I was totally relaxed and receptive, not seeking another orgasm, but longing to take possession of his sperm again.

I felt the first impact of his ejaculation, and then he seemed to just pour himself into me. I felt this not an act of lust, but an expression of pure love. It seemed to say, “From now on, I am your man, and you my woman.”

When he had finished, he stayed inside me for a long time, and when he finally withdrew, it was with a sigh of regret.

We slept wrapped in each other’s arms.

The morning found me singing as I took a shower and prepared breakfast. I knew I was loved and loved in return. But there is always a serpent and a stern Jehovah in the Garden of Eden, and my serpent and Jehovah combined was Edgar.

He was my serpent because he had brought the object of temptation into our house. My Jehovah because I pictured him in judgmental mode when he learned, as he must eventually, of the relationship between Jeremy and I.

At that point, self-doubt crept in. Was I deluding myself? Did Jeremy love me with the ardour he professed, or was I just a convenient screw for a young man?

I heard him whistling in the shower. That held something of reassurance. He was happy. If that were so, then surely his happiness arose from our mutual love? I waited to see how he would greet me.

He burst into the kitchen where I was still working, and coming behind me, cupping my breasts with his hands said, “Good morning my love. I hope you feel wonderful because I do.”

I turned to face him, and we kissed, long and tenderly. My doubts fled, but Edgar remained.

“Jeremy, about Edgar…” I began.

“I’ll tell him if you like,” he said.

“No darling, not yet. Give yourself time. You might find out…”

“No I won’t,” he said firmly, anticipating my suggestion that he might want to get off the hook.”

“All right, Jeremy. Edgar has got to know some time, but not just yet.”

“But how will we…”

“I know, darling. We shall just have to be very careful, but I do have an idea. I’m as anxious as you are for us to make love, but before I tell Edgar, I want to find out if I’ve become pregnant.”

“But…”

“Give me four weeks, probably less, that’s all I ask. We’ve waited a year before we came together, we can wait four weeks, and we won’t have to be totally deprived, there will be times.”

Reluctantly Jeremy agreed. I knew it would be difficult for both of us, constantly in each other’s presence, longing for intimacy, but I had my reasons.

The first of these reasons was, if I was pregnant, then I wanted to tell Edgar. To be able to do this would probably circumvent long and tedious arguments about whether we were to break up our marriage or not. My pregnancy would surely settle that quickly. It also had an element of revenge.

The other reason was my still deep down lurking doubt about Jeremy. He thought he loved me, well, he would have time to change his mind, whether he wanted it or not.

Much to both our regrets, Jeremy had to go to work that day. As he left the house, there was no peck on the cheek. It was full-blown passionate kiss that made me almost beg him not to go.

He said, “Have a beautiful day, my love.”

I felt tears coming. No one had ever said that to me before. I called after him, “Come back safely, darling.” I had never said that to anyone before.

Fortunately, it was my Red Cross morning, and working there to some extent stemmed the tide of jumbled thoughts. The afternoon was a different matter. Doubts arose, dread that Jeremy would change his mind and dealing with Edgar floated around in my head like fiery demons.

When six o’clock arrived, and with it Jeremy, the demons fled. He came with flowers and champagne. “To celebrate our love,” he said as he held me close. “Perhaps I should have booked a candlelit table at a restaurant, but I really wanted to be alone with you.”