Sincerely Scott
by DChatterly

-the introduction-

      I must confess now, looking back, that I do not regret the
events I am going to relate, despite the far reaching consequences.
I feel it turned me into the woman I had always longed to be: strong
and assured, knowing, confident and able to face up to the
not-so-nice-world.

      It all began when I returned to our apartment, unexpectedly,
to find Scott - my husband - reading through my personal diary. I
was furious; not only because I feel that it is unfair to plunder
someone's secret thoughts (I would have never perpetrated such a
deed myself) but that he then had the audacity to confront me about
one of the intimate and highly personal passages it contained.

      "What the hell is all this Miya?" he scolded; holding up the
diary by the offending page.

      Admittedly, the single entry which had befell his eyes was a
fantasy I had concocted about sleeping with a male colleague -
someone we both had known for years. A simple fantasy. I had merely
thought about what it would be like, how it would be different - to
know what it would feel like to experience another man other than
Scott. The man in the text was simply a means to bestow the fantasy
some sense of reality.

      I turned away, trying to conceal my overpowering annoyance
towards his sneakiness. But I was angered by the incident. "How dare
you do that!" I yelled at him, unable to meet his eyes.

      I had been virgin before I met Scott. Previously I had only
petted heavily with short lived boyfriends; had been the recipient
of intimate caresses, and had even occasionally grappled, hands on,
with a few penises...but no sex..up 'till Scott. This was why the
entry had been made. A simple pondering on things I had no earthly
insight of.

      A stormy argument ensued; me complaining bitterly about his
flagrant invasion of my privacy; and him enraged that I had dared
imagine sex with another. How could I?  But the harsh words ended
soon after, with us viciously tearing each others clothes off,
looking to solve our differences in shared spontaneous passion. This
is the point the fire was lit. As Scott began to groan due to my
rough, heated handling, he begged me to call out the name from the
diary - the name of the man I had fantasised about. I paused. He
pleaded. I did. And found the thrill quite uplifting. My fantasy
could be half lived, and with my husbands complete approval, and
strangely enough, obvious delight. I cried out, imagining another
man - the man from the diary entry - plunging into me. Our sex was
wild but short lived, as Scott soon squealed, letting fluids release
into my covetous cunt.

      Scott and I had been married for only a year at the time this
all took place. We were both still relatively young; me at nineteen,
and him just a year older. Already our sex life had petered out. His
lack of imagination leading to my lack of enthusiasm being the
reasons for our somewhat unadventurous activity.  I was somewhat
dispirited that, with being so young, I had missed out on so much,
and had offered my future to Scott with little consideration.

      When we had first started dating, and up to losing my
virginity to him, Scott would talk frequently of his experiences
with previous girlfriends; of his knowledge on the exploration of
the female form - his frequent encounters and success with many
women. Without as much as saying the words, and bragging too much,
he implied that he was skilled and knew everything that women
desired. I had known him for years before we even ended up being
romantically involved. We had grown up in the same town, had been
friends with the same people; it had felt the right thing to do, the
perfect combination when we eventually became a couple.

      I do, however, remember our first time together - in his
basement - me with, my pants and trousers caught tightly around my
ankles - and him a nervous wreck, and still trying to reassure me.
His cock, still flaccid, took so much coaxing, and it was hardly
really worth the wait. I eventually took the initiative, seeing, at
last, an erection almost surfacing. I straddled him, and we gyrated
together clumsily until he unconvincingly, came inside of me. I
often feel like it was actually Scott who was the virgin, and me who
was leading the way.

      To tell you the truth, I didn't even know it was done; but
whatever it was, was over with before it began, without the fuss, or
any of the sensations I had envisaged. I was not sad; just mildly
disappointed that despite all Scott's past experience, my
introduction to sex had not been as earth shattering as I had
dreamed of.

      I even took the responsibility of showing him exactly where my
clitoris was positioned, ushering his clumsy fingers, and
demonstrating how to touch it. This way, at least, I could attain
some semblance of pleasure for our first and many subsequent times
together .

      So after being married for this year, I began to have these
notions about filling in the gap (so to speak). Merely notions. I
wasn't really the kind of girl who would have actively sought out a
man to solve this anxiousness and blatant curiosity crisis. I do
love Scott for other attributes besides his sexual prowess (or lack
of it). I did however, begin to remind him often that his secret was
out...that I realised he was not the Casanova he once lead me to
believe. This, I think, tickled an insecurity inside him. And into
the bargain, it turned him on, knowing I, despite my lack of
experience, am the one who had gained the upper hand.

      "Please Miya tell me what you would do with him," he pleaded,
wanting to know more of my thoughts regarding the entry within the
diary. "Do you think he is bigger than me?"

      The diary incident had really fuelled this fantasy. Scott
obsessed with the image of another man doing a finer job of
relinquishing my virginity than he did; of filling me to complete
satisfaction; of how I would react to an unfamiliar touch, and
ultimately, taking a lover for my own personal needs.

      I had to reply 'yes' to this; and to be perfectly honest, the
friction I obtain from the various positions we try is very little.
I began to assume that the depth Scott reached inside me could be
viewed as sufficient, it was the thickness that left we wanting.
When I reached full arousal, my lips parting to their fullest, I
could barely feel him enter between them. The more I wanted, the
more I became frustrated. I knew I needed more. Now he beheld this
exigency as well.

      A week or so passed beyond the diary incident. One evening,
totally out of the blue, Scott walked in on me whilst I dried after
taking a shower.

      "Do you enjoy sex Miya?" he asked, staring whilst I ran a
small towel over my damp breasts. 

      "What exactly do you mean honey?" I replied, wanting to tell
him that I felt I hadn't really experienced real sex. He was calm, a
hazed look about his focused eyes. I continued to dry. "Do you want
to hear me tell you that I continually fantasise about having a
lover, a skilled lover, one that understands my needs, my body. One
that can make me come on request. A man Scott."

	He simply whispered, "yes".

      "Wank off and show me that is what you desire darling," I
said, letting the words pour out slow and hoarse.

      I stood before him completely nude, and I knew the sight of my
breasts, slightly damp, nipples alert, would drive him wild. He
produced his cock, already hard, and proceeded to massage the
foreskin vigorously back and fourth. His eyes half closed, his
breathing rapid.

      "I have been," I continued. "I have had lovers, many of them,
all so much better than you darling. So much bigger than you, able
to last, to ensure that I come while they pound away at my oh so
eager body. Scott they have at least learned from their experience.
They all seem to know how to offer me ecstasy." The more I continued
to speak, the faster his hand moved, until a final grown emanated
from his lips and a white streak of fluid danced fourth form his
pitiful cock, dangling and separating, some resting on the carpet at
our feet.

      My own desire had been elevated. I needed release, and
promptly directed Scott's head between my legs. Now on the bathroom
floor, I curled my long legs around his shoulders, pushing forcibly
until his tongue located where I needed it. He lapped my moistness
eagerly, and continued as I demanded, for an age. Pictures recoiled
through my mind, images of being taken by another man, put under his
control, viewing his enormous cock, glistening, desirous, and
entering me, stretching me, showing me expertise a real man can
offer.  As I clutched the back of his head and pressed, his efforts
finally allowed me to reach an orgasm.

      "Christ Scott, it doesn't take them as long," I remarked
whilst I came. I noticed his erection reappearing, and as he drew
his head back. He attempted to position his body over me, ready to
enter into my saturated cunt. "No darling," I said, "I don't require
that now," and pushed him back to his feet, grabbing the towel to
conceal my nakedness.

      Since the tone of our sex life was then set, we continued to
act out this scenario very often. Scott would simply masturbate
whilst I described what my, then, imaginary lovers had done for me.
This seemed to be enough for him to get the release he required, but
for me, despite his tongue eventually getting me there,  the orgasms
gradually took longer, and appeared weaker, leaving me quite
unfulfilled. There had to be more.

-the learning curve-

      I would never be so bold as to describe myself as overly
beautiful. Sure I am tall (at 6ft,I am the same height as Scott) and
I have always been slim, which I suppose makes my breasts seem
larger than they are. Scott incessantly tells me how splendid he
thinks my tit's are: just the sight of a single nipple renders him
helpless, and he then becomes so easy for me to control how I want.

      I suppose I am, sexually, a naturally dominant person. But
this does not translate so convincingly to everyday life. Since my
sex life, up to this point, had only included Scott, I had no
earthly idea if I would act similarly within a different setting;
given an alternative stimulus.

      Suddenly the cravings got stronger. My body, the intrinsic
tendencies provided by nature - allowing me the ability to ensure I
could ensnare any mate. I was intensely aware of a distinct aroma
arising from between my legs, stronger than usual, almost like an
animal on heat, with one distinct objective - to take a new lover.
The instinct inherent within any simple female mitochondrion DNA
cell, offered, through generations of evolution. Put simply, nature
preparing me to procreate. An unfortunate time for these feelings to
be thrust upon me. Nineteen years old; a desire to be unfaithful to
my new husband (and only lover) and a craving to be swollen with a
child. A dangerous mixture of thought.


      I told Scott of my unrestrained desire to offer our new found
fantasies some reality. I wished to take a lover, simply, to
heighten the thrill, to quench my own unyielding curiosity. He could
not have agreed more fervently, saying that, 'it was only fair' -
'he had experienced other lovers. Why not me?'

I was ready to begin.

      No opportunities arose immediately. You would think that an
attractive, young and willing woman on the look out for some male
company, especially with one intention in mind, would find an
over-abundance of willing takers. But, most saw me as 'attached',
and so, unavailable.

      The first incident happened at a friends wedding reception,
where I was serving as chief bridesmaid. I sat at the head table
next to Ian, the grooms brother and best man. I wore a very-modern
short bridesmaid dress, which may have been a sensible length on a
female not as tall as myself, but on me it revealed an excessive
amount leg. Scott sat at one of the other tables, and, due to the
amount of flesh I had been displaying throughout the ceremony, I was
aware of him eyeing me hungrily - knowing that he would be thrilled
at how I devoured so much attention.

      But I sat, sipping champagne, and nibbling on the food
provided, with, at least, the draping tablecloth concealing exactly
how much the short dress had risen. This saved my blushes, and
ensured the other diners facing the table were unable to see the
expanse of thigh, and even the slight curve of bottom, I was so
conscious of, whilst I tried to sit as still as possible with legs
firmly crossed.

      After delivering his best man speech, and offering a toast to
the bridesmaids, Ian sat back down, lounging confidently in his
seat. He rocked the chair slowly on two legs, ensuring on the
backwards sway that he managed to take in as much of the view of my
bared legs as he could. I was wholly conscious of his efforts to see
more with every movement. I continued to sit in an unaltered
position, until he ceased the swinging and engaged me in
conversation - moving perilously close beside me. It was obvious
he'd had a fair amount to drink, but doing my duty as bridesmaid, I
was charming and tactful in response to his intelligible babble . He
made the conversation more intimate, flattering me, turning to offer
me his complete personal attention.

      Eventually, with complete calmness, he rested a hand on the
bared knee of my crossed leg. One finger lightly traced the contour,
over the knee, turning inwards to the available area of inner thigh.
I coughed falsely, turning my head to ensure no one was witnessing
this bold intrusion onto my person.

      Everyone around us continued to chat idly and finish up their
drinks. Scott spoke diffidently to a couple, looking bored,
completely unknowing. My heart accelerated as Ian's hand came to
rest, palm down, on the top of my exposed thigh. I squeezed my legs
tight, suddenly aware of a tingling sensation emanating from where I
felt the heat of his still hand. I uncrossed my legs - smiling at
the people around me - offering an invitation. He quickly withdrew
his hand, at first not sensing my signal, then realising, as I
grabbed his wrist, offering, not resistance, but assistance back to
a more accommodating angle atop my thigh.

      Back on me now, only with more accessibility, he gently roamed
his hand between my, now, slightly parted, legs. I spread them
further as he stroked the front of my panties. From there, down and
under, edge to edge - over the material. I knew I was moist, and he
could feel it, as he continued the movement. It was the way he
looked at me that made me melt - as if he would have taken me right
there in-front of everyone - despite the consequences. But abruptly
the meal was concluded and Scott was at my side ready to escort me
through to the reception hall. Whilst he chatted, asking if I
enjoyed the meal, Ian's finger slid past the elastic side of my
panties and burrowed through the dampness into my aching cunt. As he
wiggled his finger, I squirmed in the seat, finding it increasingly
difficult to concentrate on the conversation with Scott. He was
oblivious to the hand between my legs. Both Ian and I looked ahead,
me talking as normally as I was able.

      Throughout the evening, he asked me frequently for dances, and
I obliged, not mentioning what had happened at the table - he
pressed against me as often as was decent in company - as Scott
looked on - and at one point, I actually felt his hardness pressing
into me. But he was becoming steadily more drunk, and soon after
disappeared from sight.

      The time came to change out of the bridesmaid dress, so I
found the room where I'd left my bag and proceeded to change.

	"Miya are you decent?" I heard a voice outside the door. 

      "Hold on," I hollered in response, spying a towel to conceal
the fact I only just had my underwear on. "It's open. Come on in."

      It was David, the bridegroom, who showed complete
embarrassment as he saw me standing with a towel wrapped around my
body.

      "Oh Sorry Miya," he jumped, turning his head out of
politeness. 

      "Hey it's all right David, don't you be shy. You're a married
man now."

      "I just wanted to apologise for Ian," he said, still not able
to turn and face me. "I noticed him all over you on the dance floor.
He's quite drunk - In fact he's had to go now, so don't worry about
him annoying you."

      "David it's fine, don't worry about it. It was quite amusing
really."

      "But I doubt Scott was best pleased about it. Apologise to him
for us would you." He managed to turn to me and smile.

      I changed the subject. "How are you feeling now that you're
married then?" I asked him, deciding I would continue to change. I
let the towel go, standing only in a bra and pants, looking around
for the skirt I'd taken form my bag.

      "Well right now, I'm wishing I wasn't a married man," he
commented, now gawking at my semi-undress. I laughed. "Now I see why
Ian was all over you."

      "David don't embarrass me, " I lied, knowing the champagne I'd
drunk throughout the evening was causing this display. "Pass me that
top," I asked, pointing to the bed where some of my clothes had been
scattered.

      "God Scott is a lucky guy, " he began to say. "If you don't
mind me saying, you've got an awesome body." He handed me the
clothes, making no attempt to conceal that he was taking in the
sight.

      I laughed again. "He especially likes these." In one swift
move, I'd unclipped and let fall the bra I wore. I took the blouse
from his outstretched hand, and put one arm into a sleeve. "I never
wear a bra with this top," I told him. "Hope I am not offending
you." I continued to put the blouse on, not once taking my eyes form
his. I left the buttons deliberately undone. "Now where is that
skirt?"

      "Miya, this is driving me wild," he stated as I peered about
the room. "God, what a beautiful body you have."

      "Like it David?" I moved over to him and took hold of one of
his hands. Taking his middle finger, I brought it to one of the
nipples peeking out from between the unfastened blouse. "Look what
you've done," I whispered. "It's gone hard."

      Before I knew it I was frog marched over to the bed and thrown
down amongst the scattering of clothes that lay on the surface. Both
of his large hands, finding my body to be responsive, began to
eagerly explore across the revealed swell of my breasts. He pulled
the unbuttoned blouse apart as he pressed forcibly into me. I
wrapped my legs tightly around him, like a possessed force had been
unleashed, eagerly thrusting my hips against his. I was aware of his
cock, still below his clothes, hard but so prominent . I rubbed over
the front of his trousers, finally getting around to unbuttoning,
and carefully sliding down his trouser zip. The first thing I recall
is the tip of his cock, when in sight, was extremely wet. I thought
at first that maybe he had ejaculated; but he was so very hard, and
I was instantly aware of the thickness it possessed - and smoothness
- not overly veiny - but so sleek to the touch. He removed my
panties, sliding them down and pulling over my feet.

      He lay back on me. I reached my hands between us, and eased
his cock, which was till only poking through his trouser fly,
inside. As he thrust into me, slowly, controlled, evenly - I think I
came immediately - It certainly was a different sensation; sending a
warmth from my vagina, around the whole area, which drifted up my
body right through my stomach - tingling over me. Every time he
pushed his hips against me, I'm sure he elevated further; deeper.
The way in which it was different from what I know, am used to, was
the immediate thrill. Whereas Scott's cock is as longish, I think,
it certainly was not as substantial; wide, I suppose - solid. This,
I see now, was the difference in the sensation - I recall the
feeling of being stretched, widened - so nice to experience, such a
real feeling - beautiful -  warmth, floating radiance about me - I
was in a flush, considerably - almost losing control, as I gripped
and pushed back to every plunge.

      He increased his motion into me, I reciprocated - it was
joyous - to be remembered. He told me when he was about to come. I
held onto his body tightly, allowed him to - wanted to feel the
outpouring go through me; splash me internally - awash my womb. He
tensed so firmly, and lingered a thrust, yelping a bit - but
searched for my lips to express his recognition of a heavenly moment
- and it was. I felt the spurt flood my cervix and clung with
gratitude as the feeling forced an orgasm from me. We continued
kissing, until our mouths could not escape from smiling; eyes wide,
noticing each other - softly now, brushing our lips.

      We both stood up; him tidying and zipping; me searching
frantically for my scattered clothes. But we both viewed each other
doing so, displaying grins so big, they almost touched our eyes. It
was my first but Scott; at last, my first time for real. It was so
much more than I could have ever anticipated. But still I
anticipated more.

      The grinning ended as we both scuttled out the quiet room,
leaving only our scent behind us - madly straightening our garments.
He searched for his new wife. I for my old Scott.

      I found Scott drinking alone at the bar. "Oh I see you've
finally changed from that damn sexy dress," he remarked, glancing
admiringly at the new outfit I wore.

      I smiled deviously at him, my eyes, I believe giving my secret
away. "Oh I've changed all right," I said, persisting with the
smile. fixed firmly, unaltered.

      "What the hell have you been up to Myia?" he asked, his
expression transforming dramatically.

      "Just playing at being the bride darling." His eyes beamed.
"The virgin bride." I paused, just for affect. "Well the bride
losing her virginity to the well hung groom." This got him. He moved
his face close to mine, his breathing hot and close. The people all
around us suddenly became irrelevant. The shouts and hollers were
drowned out momentarily. "Finally I know what a real wedding night
is like."

      "What are you saying Miya?" he whispered now, his hot breath
wafting the tang of alcohol in my face.

	"I just got fucked. Do I have to spell it out. F U C."

      "No stop," he called louder. "God stop it. You're driving me
wild." 

      He was right. From then on, there was no point in us remaining
at the reception. He was fidgety, and constantly stuttering and
flapping when he tried to speak, attempting to hear through the wall
of noise around us.

      "Oh lets call a cab then," I suggested. We found a phone booth
in the foyer of the hotel, and both squeezed into it. While I
dialled the phone, Scott began pressing up against my leg. I could
feel his cock, hard through the light material of his trousers.

      "Have you still got his juice inside you?" he whispered whilst
rubbing himself slowly up and down hard against me. I quietly
nodded, and gave him a wicked smile. His face contorted and emitted
a low moan. I realised why, he had come inside his trousers. With
the movement against my body, he'd brought himself off. We just had
to leave.

      We removed ourselves up to the room where my bag and
belongings were. I explained in more detail, the events that had
transpired earlier on the rumpled bed. Scott, again, became excited,
pulling down his trousers to clean off the sticky mess under his
shorts. He couldn't resist pulling on his small erect cock whilst I
elaborated on my experience.

      "Would you like to experience it again Myia?" he asked me,
furiously rubbing, pretending to clean off the stickiness from the
tip of his straining cock.

      "Yes Scott, but not with yours I'm afraid." I viewed his
actions, feigning disdain at him blatantly massaging his manhood in
front of me, looking to prolong the thrill.

      "Oh fuck!" he cried out, and let fourth another short spurt of
thin liquid from his cock. I was feeling quite hot again; quite in
need of a repeat of before. I moved to him and took his cock gently
in a few fingers. I retrieved a tissue from the bedside, and began
to gently wipe him clean.

      "I'm feeling like a real woman Scott," I said, mopping up the
liquid on his thigh. "I'm drawn to needs I've never felt before," I
continued. "I think I need more than ever to be complete." I could
tell he wasn't really listening to my words, and I was not
expressing them clearly. The actuality was, that I felt a drive to
be fucked and left with the seed of my lover inside me, to fertilise
me, to seek out my womb and allow a life to form within it; to allow
a potent lover to do this to me. I craved to go all the way. That
would complete my womanhood. But I couldn't express the way I felt,
or why I visualised the need for this. I had seen my friend get
married on this day, I had sampled what was in store for her
throughout her honeymoon, I knew he would soon plant his potent seed
in her to consummate their togetherness. He was clearly a man. She
was his woman. I knew she would be in bliss tonight, and I
understood why. My jealousy was transparent.

      In the cab home, I pondered on the events and thoughts I'd
gone through that evening. The driver, I noticed, had angled his
mirror to obtain a view of my legs. Scott lay his head on my
shoulder and stared hard out the side window. With all the powerful
images, and memories stumbling through my head, I found once again
feelings being evoked. So the driver would not be disappointed, I
began to trace a finger along my own thigh, pretending to be unaware
of his observation. Slowly I brought my skirt higher, my roaming
finger moving upwards along with it.

      Eventually, as the car meandered through the busy streets, my
finger ran back and fourth, up and down, slowly, almost like I
possessed an itch requiring soft attention, over the front of my
silky white pants, trailing the shape of my enriched lips. In the
same movement, I parted my legs carefully, aware of the wetness
being drawn onto the interior material of my panties, soaking
through, wetting the tip of my finger, and beginning to fragrance
the air. Scott had closed his eyes and was breathing quite heavily
into my ear.

      The driver began looking more often, removing his eyes from
the road frequently.

      "He's had too much to drink I think," I told the him, my voice
croaking and altogether husky until I succeeded in clearing my
throat. I closed my eyes, reliving my memories of the evening, and
softly continued to caress the area that had lived most of it.

      I wasn't even aware when the cab came to a halt. The voice of
the driver appeared, and disappeared in my reverie.

	"Hey lady, " I was aware of words. "This is your stop." 

      I rescued my eyes from the darkness, momentarily startled,
then staring at the turned head of the driver. "Oh sorry, I was
almost asleep there." I noticed his tanned face,  slicked back hair,
and handsome features. One of his arms was tucked around the seat,
pressed hard against the back, revealing a well worked bicep
supporting a tattoo of a the illustration that goes with the 'I want
you for the army poster'. The craggy face stared upon me, the finger
outstretched and obtrusive.
	
      He turned his eyes to Scott, sleeping heavily, undisturbed,
next to me. "I'll lend a hand with the drunk," he offered. I smiled
and nodded.

      Scott was almost a dead weight. He managed to take only
shuffling steps, his head lolling forwards as we carefully guided
him to the apartment. We halted by the door whilst I searched for
the keys in my bag. Once open, the driver took Scott himself over
the threshold and through the hall.

      "Where do you want him?" he asked. I opened the door, struck
the light switch and ushered him onwards. We were in the lounge, and
I pointed to the far away door that lead to the spare room.

      "He sleeps in there tonight," I said, as the driver struggled
with Scott to where I motioned. "How much do we owe you for the
fare?"

      I rummaged in my bag again, looking for the cash to pay. The
driver soon returned and was standing next to me, smiling. "I
crashed him on the bed," he uttered. "He's out for the count." His
smile grew larger. "Looks like you'll be getting no fun tonight."

      I suddenly felt wicked - I wonder if? - I thought to myself,
viewing the stranger that stood near to me. He was well built,
extremely; his tight jeans offered no hiding place for the rest of
his build. He was a man after all. His tone seemed unthreatening;
his looks spelt out experience.

      "What about yourself?" I asked him. "You off clubbing now or
what?" My heart raced, the beats powering blood vigorously around my
body. I knew why. My extremities tingled somewhat as I awaited his
response.

      "Gosh no," he replied. "I'm finished now. Just on my way home,
have a night cap and off to capture some sweet dreams."

      "Oh I can offer you a night cap if you would like," I told
him, grinning but not allowing too much eagerness to be conveyed.
"And how much is the fare?"

      "Here that would be real nice of you," he replied quickly.
"Forget the fare for now."

      His name was Todd, he was 24, and had been driving cabs to
provide the funds to allow him to pursue his first love - wrestling.
He had won a scholarship during high school, but an injury had
halted his progress, and now, fully healed, he wished to take it up
again and prove he could still perform. He was convinced he could
take honours if given the opportunity to wrestle in an approved
circuit.

      I listened, as he relayed his story, transfixed by the
enthusiasm it generated in him. His determination to fulfil his
ambition before it became too late. The openness of his manner and
ease of understanding in which he presented his views doubled my
attraction to him. I relaxed fully, slipping off my shoes and
curling up on the two-seater beside him. He gently placed a hand on
one of my ankles that rested just upon his leg.
	
      Images burned through my head; of earlier at the wedding. Now
I found myself in the unbelievable position of having the
opportunity of sampling two new men - almost side by side - in the
same evening. The man with a hand caressing my bared ankle, offering
most certainly a tender experience, an unhurried encounter. I was
sure of this.

      His hand moved upwards, probably half expecting it to be
resisted; to be flung off and rejected. But I closed my eyelids,
yielding a soft moan to propound my consent to him. He continued,
reaching the hem of my skirt; now guiding his hand outwards along
the side of my upper thigh, drifting over the back of my small
satiny panties. I was acutely aware of the moistness emerging into
the opposite side of the material; willing him to discover this,
wanting to succumb to everything his actions proposed.

      "I saw you touching yourself in the car," he whispered,
directly into my ear, his warm breath sending shivers throughout me.
I moaned in acknowledgement of his soft words. "Do you like flashing
your cunt?"

	"Yes," I whispered. "Yes I do."

      "Can I see it closely, smell It, touch it?" his tongue probed
my ear now as he spoke. "Does your husband satisfy it baby?"

      I mouthed a silent 'no', moved around to face his lips, and
found myself parting my legs slightly. He kissed me softly, tongue
touching my lips, licking them; forcing the blood to flow to them,
redden them. I responded, looking for a tighter connection of our
mouths. But he did not allow this, he controlled the rate at which
we continued to kiss.tender...nibble..flick-of-tongue.

      I became quite light headed, quite taken aback by the way I
was reacting to his effectual kiss. I knew this man was a worthy
suitor, knew I needed to experience what he could offer, and was
certain it would be worth it.

      His fingers began to trace along the shape of my swollen lips,
through the silky material of my panties. He pushed a single digit
between them, pushing the material into the crevice, allowing it to
soak up the traces of moisture that had emerged. I spread my legs as
wide as my raised skirt would allow. It was bunched up - still tight
around my waist - restricting my movement somewhat. With his other
hand, he managed to unclasp and release it. The skirt lay abandoned
on the couch. I couldn't resist pulling my own panties up tight,
further accentuating the shape and wetness as his finger continued
to trace along the outline. I spread myself fully, repositioning my
prostrate across the couch, displaying my eagerness, offering my
readiness to the occasion.

      The near stranger who lay over me unbuckled his jeans with
deliberate swaying motions. He knew only to well that he was in full
control of the events. He reached inside them, constantly watching
my reaction, and pulled free his manhood.

      "Suck," he commanded, with it gripped firmly in his hand. My
face was suddenly within an inch of it. It was irresistible; so
thick, smooth and tantalising; so much the opposite of the one I was
used to seeing. My heart raced as I caught the scent of the pre-cum,
lightly tainting the bright healthy looking head. My mouth actually
began to water in anticipation of the feast I was obliging myself
into sampling. This was self-teasing in its most torrid form.
Finally I engulfed it between my lips - moaning audibly between the
drawing movements of my cheeks. My eyes caught his. He pinned my
shoulders, kneeling, moving inwards, pushing it further into my
receptive mouth.

      I continued to suck, enjoying the feeling of having a man, a
real man treat me in this way. When he was ready, he glided his cock
out from my oral grasp.
	
      "Do you want it now?" he whispered. I was licking my lips,
savouring the taste that had remained on my tongue. I nodded.

      He positioned his body over me and eased his hips into mine. I
braced myself as I felt him push up and inside. He fucked me until I
verged on exhaustion - displaying his fitness, his stamina, his
expertise. I frantically gave all I could - annoyed in a way that I
had never been provided the knowledge to prepare me for such a
moment. Such a moment of bliss, sending me into emotional turmoil,
forcing new sensations to be evoked from throughout my shivering
body. I thought of Scott, his pointless gyrations that I knew so
well, his predictability, his cock never managing to reach the depth
I now knew was such a requirement for love - a real demonstration of
what a woman MUST have. I thought of my fertility, and how it seemed
only right that I allow a man, a real man, to do nature justice, for
all of woman kind - past, present and future. I knew at the moment I
cried out, intoxicated by a shattering orgasm, that this man must
give me a child to love and share with the world.

      His whole body tensed and I suddenly felt the inside of my
body awash with fluid - the force of the flow flooding around, going
deep, penetrating my guarded womb. And I sensed my body willing it
to continue forever. I again thought of Scott, and this chance lost;
this opportunity to be fertilised by this man at this perfect
moment, gone. I kissed my lover softly as our sweat mingled - our
bodies still heavenly joined.

      I knew that my next action would be to secure the possibility
of going through all this again. I needed to repeat this moment
without the hindrance of a contraceptive pill within my system.
Scott needed to know my intention, accept it, and be supportive of
my decision to keep my lover.
   


