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This is a two-part story. If you have not read Part 1, I would strongly urge you to do so, although this probably does stand on its own two feet.
In the tale, I do not interrupt the considerable sexual action to fiddle around with condoms; just take it that I do believe in safe sex.
It’s a long story, nearly 20,000 words, maybe it’s too long. I did think of breaking it down, but feel that it hangs together ok, so I have left. Remember you don’t have to eat the elephant in one go, you can eat a bit, save it and then come back to for another meal.
Read and enjoy, I hope.
The feel of the cool cream between the cheeks of my bum was lovely. The sensations I got as Kevin smoothed it between them was wonderful. It was not just the feel of that and his fingers on me, but also the anticipation, the expectancy of what we were about to do. It was such a buzz. It was like a ceremony, as my husband prepared me, his wife, for the giving of my ‘ultimate sexual gift’ to him, my anus.
“You are sure aren’t you luv?” He asked, lightly running his fingertips across my, almost, quivering cheeks that I knew were showing loads of goose bumps.
“Yes darling. You want to don’t you?” I grunted from where my face was buried in the crisp, beautifully smooth cotton sheets.
“You know I do Mandy. You know how much I want to and how much I love it.”
I couldn’t help myself, there are times when I so love, almost badly need, to hear dirty talk.
“Love what Kevin?” I asked slightly wiggling my bum at him as he spread the cool cream deeply into the crevice, his fingers softly rubbing round and round the puckered brown skin surrounding my anus.
“What is it you love?” I persisted.
“Oh right, you dirty cow,” he said giving my bum a playful slap. Fucking your arse, that’s what I love.”
“Mmmmmm, mmmmmm,” I sighed again wiggling my bum at him. “And is that what you are going to do Kev?”
“Yes. I’m going to fuck your arse until I make you cum.”
“You reckon we’ll ever go and see them?” Kevin asked me the next morning.
“What Angetta and Sten?”
“Yes it was an open invite wasn’t it?”
“I guess it was,” I said, turning onto my side and slipping my hand under the bedclothes.
“Mmmm,” he sighed as my fingers found his penis.
“Yes the invitation was about as open as their marriage seems to be wasn’t it?” I said softly as my body started reacting to the feel of my husband growing in my hand.
That is such a marvellous feeling for a woman. Feeling your lover hardening in your hand is only rivalled by feeling him do that in your mouth. In part, it’s simply the buzz of sexual arousal, but also it’s the compliment he’s paying you, the power you have and the realisation of just how attractive and stimulating he finds you.
Kevin kissed me and took my breast in my hand.
“You’re perky for a morning,” he said lightly, his hips finding the same rhythm as my hand. “If that’s what anal sex does to you my girl, you had better watch out for your bum all the time!” He went on reaching round me and stroking my bottom.
With his dick now nearly hard and held loosely in my hand, I grunted back.
“Don’t get carried away, buster.”
“Why was it no good?” He asked.
“Let’s just leave it shall we?” I mumbled, running the tip of my tongue up his length. He tasted good.
I didn’t want to talk about last night. I was very confused with my thinking on the topic of anal sex, and what I got from it. It wasn’t the morality, for I had never thought the legal prohibition made much sense, it was more whether women did it for their man or themselves. Or was I confused? I mean I adore my bum being played with, I love a tongue or fingers in that crease and on that skin round my hole and I even like a finger slightly inside. I get loads of sensations and lots of pleasure from that to the extent that Kevin has made me cum several times from merely licking my arse.
It is when he penetrates me with his dick that I have the problems. Firstly, I’m scared that he will stretch me too much, a little like a baby can when being born! Secondly, it’s the lack of sensation up there, I mean we don’t have a prostate to arouse as just men and dogs do. Do we?
Nevertheless, the pleasure the man receives, which I feel seems disproportionate to the sensations he gains, nearly makes it worthwhile. They really do seem to look on it as the ultimate gift their partner can give.
Kevin was like that last night.
When he realised what I was offering he was just like a kid, bubbling with enthusiasm, but then he hadn’t had my bum for over a year; others maybe, but not mine!
He was so gentle, caring and careful easing the lotion into my bottom, particularly my brown anal ring. And by Christ was that good, I could have cum just from that.
He made sure I was as relaxed as I could be and that ‘down there’ I was as softened up as it was possible casino oyna to be. He caressed the lotion into me so that as the ring was softened and loosened, so his fingers easily and almost, as if with a mind of their own, slipped in and out of me.
“Are you ready, darling?” He asked after kissing each cheek then my mouth.
“Yes Kevin, I am,” I whispered back, feeling apprehensive and rather scared. “Be gentle won’t you?”
“Of course I will, I always am.”
“What are you doing?” I asked as I felt him move away.
I looked up and he was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard.
“I read that this is the best way,” he said by way of explanation signalling me to sit on his lap.
Previously we had done it doggy and on our sides, him behind me. This was different and it crossed my mind as to who might have taught him.
“No darling, you face away from me,” he explained as he turned and let his legs dangle over the side of the bed. “Sit on my lap. No not with your legs over the side, sit so that you are side on to me. Now bend your knees a little,” he explained as his arms went round me. He lifted me and I helped by pushing with one arm and one leg. I felt the tip of his cock slide along my lips and wished he would plunge into me there, but of course, he didn’t, after all, he was on a promise wasn’t he; and the biggest promise I could give?
He cupped one of my breasts and kissed me deeply on my mouth as he wiggled my body so that he was between my cheeks.
“Lift up a bit” He whispered wiggling his hand beneath my bottom. He pulled his dick up straight and placed the head of it right against my hole that was not open though. Now for the fun and games I thought as I felt him pushing.
“Relax, let your body go,” he murmured gripping my tit.
I somehow managed to do that as, at the same time I let myself slip downwards.
He went in much quicker than I had expected or when he had been there before. That was good for that tearing, ripping feeling as your sphincter muscle is forced to work in the opposite direction to normal, was finished very quickly.
“Ok?” he asked.
“Yes, yes fine,” I mumbled realising that I was sitting on my husband’s lap with his cock buried deep in my arse.
Kevin saying. “Lay back Mandy,” brought me back to the present.
“No, I’m too sore for that,” I replied truthfully, for my bum felt as though it had a lighted candle up it.
And that’s why Kevin got my greatest gift one night and my second in the morning when his spunk flowed into my mouth and poured own my throat.
It was the last night of a quite amazing holiday when my husband and I had anal sex together. We had been in Crete for ten days and had met up with a multi-national group of ‘beautiful people.’ Their ages ranged from one couple in their early twenties to another in their fifties, with most being like Kevin and me in our mid to late thirties and early forties.
We had spent much of our time with them, both during the day and most evenings. What had been amazing was how well we got to know each other so quickly and how easily we all got on. In some ways, what was even more amazing was that not more happened between any of us, or so it seemed, than the slightly drunken kissing and groping that went on at a party we held at a local taverna near the end of our time together.
The holiday had also been a great success for Kevin and me. We had been together for ten years, married for eight and we had a daughter aged four. And yes, the relationship was jaded. The spark had gone. Sex was not as it used to be and I was pretty sure, but never pushed to know for certain, that he dabbled on the side, now and then. That was the backdrop to the ‘second honeymoon’ we had planned for Crete. And that is exactly how it turned out in many ways; a perfect holiday romance.
We had our own bungalow in the grounds with a private pool. That was lovely. It was also a marvellous way of us reconnecting sexually for Kevin fucked me in that pool on the first on several more days.
Just why we were so sexually active on the holiday I was never quite sure, but I had some theories. However, now, back in London we reverted to our more normal ration: a couple of almost quickies during the busy week and a rather longer, but still not that adventurous session, usually on a Friday night.
In Crete though, we had sex every day. In fact, on most days, we had it more than once and on one day, we had it three times. We had sex in the pool and beside the pool. I sucked him until he came in my mouth and he gave me several orgasms by simply, what an understatement, licking my bum. We were abandoned and adventurous and it seemed to me to be the perfect end to give my husband my bum on our last night.
It was a couple of evenings before that when our group of ‘beautiful people had our party, a sort of farewell do, for some were leaving the next day.
After a boozy meal it had all became slot oyna a little raucous. I suppose most, or probably all, of us gave in a little to the pent-up sexual tension that had built up during our time together. Kevin simply vanished outside somewhere with a large breasted Dutch girl and several other couples were nowhere to be seen. Those of us, six or seven other couples stayed in the taverna, which was closed for the evening, and danced, well more, as time went on, swayed on the spot.
It was during that, couple of hours, time I expect that I did a number of things I hadn’t done since being married. Like letting a man kiss me full on the lips, like kissing him back and exchanging tongues with him, like staying pressed tightly against a guy who had a very evident erection, like squirming myself against that, like letting a guy stroke and squeeze my bum and like letting another one caress my tits.
If the hotel had not have been in darkness when we got back at around 1.30 am, I fear for what would have gone on! The odd thing was that I was a little upset that it was shut.
On our last night there was only one other couple left from ‘our gang.’ They were a Finnish couple, Angetta and Sten, with whom we had probably been the most friendly. We had eaten with them, had a couple of drinks then walked along the beach. They had told us about life in Finland and particularly about their nationality’s attitude towards sex. It was much freer than ours. It included mixed, nude saunas, open marriages and, effectively partner sharing, The way they described it in the moonlight of that Cretan beach was not at all sordid or, come to that, at all come on. They were not propositioning us and they made no really suggestive remarks, hints of invitations for the future maybe, but nothing like, “Why don’t we get it on tonight?” A tiny party of me thought that was somewhat of a pity for it had been Sten’s erection I had squirmed against the night before.
Kevin’s and my relationship returned to its norm in the weeks after returning from Crete. That was both sexually and with our general relationship. He was out a lot with business, entertaining clients, or so he said, although I did then, as I had pre Crete, suspected he had ‘bits on the side.’
I kept in touch by e-mail with some of the girls from ‘the gang’, particularly Angetta, Sten’s wife. She and I had had several deeply meaningful conversations, as we had lain topless on the beach. We had talked about love and relationships and, of course partners and men in general. What she said fascinated me. Her outlook, which she promised me was extremely typical of the Finns, was so different to mine and the Brit way of looking at things.
It started from the base point that monogamy was as unnecessary as it was unlikely amongst most couples.
“So Mandy,” she had said her deep blue eyes captivating me as she looked into mine. “Once couples embrace that idea then they can have a sexually liberated life-style.”
She went on at some length, certainly strongly encouraged by me, for I was genuinely very interested.
She explained that she was happy to share Sten. “That way he always comes back,” she smiled adding. “But of course that’s on the proviso that he shares me as well.” I asked her about how she felt about having other men and again she smiled as she replied. “It stops me wondering, it gives me a sanity-check on Sten and it’s great fun, so I love it.”
She explained that not all friendly couples became lovers, but many did. Sometimes, she told me. “Just for an evening, but sometimes for years. We have been lovers with our closest friends for, oh must be ten years now.”
She told me that sex was looked on as something to be enjoyed and was not necessarily an aspect of love. “Good sex is possible without love and love is possible without great sex,” she said.
The drive to Gatwick was, as usual, awful. The traffic was snarled up at the QE2 Bridge at Dartford and at the road works, which seem to have gone on for ever, just the other side. It was almost as bad at the junction with , where the M25 bears left and I nearly always go straight on, and at the slip road off the M23. We arrived at the North Terminal feeling drained and rather tetchy with each other. It was, of course, ‘all my fault,’ for it had been me that had said no to travelling over the night before and spending the night in the Hilton or Copthorne hotel.
“See, now if we’d have come over last night we would have avoided all this,” Kevin had said several times.
“For Christ’s sake leave it, can’t you?” I had snarled back. The lovely mood that had prevailed between us on the holiday romance we’d had in Crete had certainly vanished.
Luckily, the valet parking worked well and we were soon strolling across the terminal to the SAS Business Class check in. It was a nice luxury to have the use of their private lounge as we waited for the flight to Helsinki.
My e-mails and occasional phone calls with Angetta canlı casino siteleri had continued building the relationship between us. We had discussed the Finnish outlook on life and their approach and attitudes towards sex in more detail. Quite frankly, the idea of such a sexually liberated way of living, not only excited and intrigued, but also really interested me, both sexually and intellectually.
I became so enthusiastic about what she told me that I even discussed it with Kevin. Now, my ex-husband as he now is, has a quick, alert and astute mind, but, not wishing to sound too arrogant, he isn’t intellectually inclined. He thinks in straight lines and only really puts his mind to things of substantial interest to him. So, when I gushed on a bit about things Angetta had told me, his reaction was conditioned more by his dick that his brain.
Nevertheless, as we discussed our Finnish friends, we both became more agitated in our own ways.
“So if we go out and they want to wife swap?” He asked rather chauvinistically. “Would you?”
I tried explaining that what Ang was talking about was far more than wife swapping and it was more about a completely different view on sex in particular and life in general. His response, though, interesting, slightly amusing and completely typical of him, did little to encourage me that he was grasping the concept of a life-style freed from sexual stereotyping.
“So that means I could see you fucking another bloke, could I?”
There was no satisfactory answer to that, so I ignored it.
Sten and Angetta met us at the airport. It was as if we were meeting old friends rather than a couple we had met on holiday and had spent only a few days together. Kisses and hugs all round, lots of smiles and touching of arms and shoulders, it was nice and they both looked great.
Each of them is tall and slim and, in keeping with most of their compatriots, have blonde hair. Sten had had his cropped quite severely since Crete, but unlike on most English guys, it didn’t make him look threatening, more academic, I thought. Angetta, as usual, looked a million dollars.
To my mind, the most appropriate word to describe her is statuesque. However, if one used that, it would probably be followed, by cool, sophisticated and drop dead sexy, but not necessarily in that order. Her face is probably slightly too austere to be considered classically beautiful, but she certainly is stunning, hellishly attractive and beguiling, I suppose. Her nose is quite pointed and a little on the large size, more like Princess Di or Sofia Lauren and her lips were a little too thin to give her that look of true beauty. Her mouth, though, is quite large, a little like Carly Simons’. However, what her looks lose from the lack of fullness of her lips, is more than made up for with the sexiness of her mouth. I could imagine that men, particularly Kevin, would at least fleetingly have fantasised about them being clamped firmly round their dick.
It’s her eyes, though, that are her greatest appeal and make her looks so unforgettable. Sitting neatly on top of her high, angular and very prominent cheekbones are two huge pools of sheer, pale blue, horniness. I am sure that everyone, male or female, who meets her gaze, feels something; I certainly did and from the look on Kevin’s face whenever he saw her, he did as well, and it wasn’t hard to work out what he felt!
Her body is also good. She’s taller than me, probably about five feet eight or nine, and much slimmer; I guessed around 130 to my 140 pounds. There’s little spare flesh on her, but her bum has a generous covering, which gives her one of the sexiest wiggles and walks you could imagine. It was quite something in Crete to watch people’s, men’s and women’s, heads as she walked past them her bottom slowly, but so clearly undulating from side to side. That looked fantastic in any clothing, but in one her tiny bikini bottoms it was indescribable. She’s quite some contrast to me. My long, unruly no matter what I do to it, chestnut hair is in stark contrast to Ang’s blondeness, my rounded, almost Rubenesque as Kevin calls it, body is quite the opposite to her statuesque slenderness and my boobs, well! Her breasts were pert and fuller when seen in a bikini, or even out of one come to that, than they appeared to be in a dress and she had long nipples that looked as if they were permanently hard, perhaps they were? However, my boobs, I felt rather ridiculously smugly, would have engulfed them: mmmm quite a nice thought.
We were soon out of the extremely modern, amazingly clean and ultra modern Vantua airport; it really did put Gatwick to shame, and were buzzing down a motorway in their Merc.
“It’s only fifteen kilometres to town,” Sten explained.
Everywhere looked so smart, modern and up-to-date; I was falling in love with Finland already.
“That’s the top hotel in town,” Angetta explained pointing out the Hotel Kamp, “And we live just round the back of it.
They showed us to our room in the apartment in what was clearly a very smart area of Helsinki.
“Would you like a rest or a bath or shower or anything after your journey?” Ang asked.
“No we’re fine,” I replied looking around the minimalist room.
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