It has been a while since Tom and I posted any stories on this wonderful website. We are aging gracefully (I hope) and enjoying our time together. Tom is still practicing law, and my design business continues to grow, so between work, play and family, we have full plates.
Our favorite time together is after work, when we can sit on our veranda, watch the sun go down, listen to the sounds of summer evenings, and enjoy a glass of wine and conversation.
The other evening we were planning a trip to an upcoming out-of-town wedding of one of our friends’ children, and my mind drifted back to weddings past.
“Do you remember the wedding of your college roommate?” I asked. Tom and I had been married for about a year, no kids yet, both of us busy and very much in love. In fact, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
“Hmm, vaguely,” Tom said, teasingly. “Why do you ask?” I knew he remembered, very well. Tom loves it when I tell him sexy stories of our past times together, and he was hoping for one now.
“Just wondering,” I said. “I was thinking back over a very romantic encounter, but it was so long ago, I wasn’t sure if it was with you or an old boyfriend,” I teased him back.
“Oh, I must have been there. The one at the lake?” he asked.
I got up from my seat and walked over to him, leaning over to take his empty wine glass and plate. I made sure that he got a good glimpse of my ample cleavage. Sure enough, this prompted a kiss, his hands trailing over my breasts, causing my nipples to respond and that familiar warmth to spread down my tummy and between my legs. After all these years, kissing my husband, brushing my open lips over his, still has this effect on me.
“Tell me about it,” he suggested. I was hoping this would lead somewhere, so I accepted his invitation.
“I think it was 1984. We had been married for about a year. Your roommate was getting married at a posh but rustic resort in the North Carolina mountains. It was June, perhaps July. You were in the wedding, and I was your eye candy. I didn’t know your college friends well, but they made me feel like part of the fraternity.”
“The wedding was sweet, and the reception was a blast. There was a great DJ, and we were all dancing to 70’s tunes. It was a warm night, and my high-heeled sandals were off. I was wearing a little black cocktail dress that you loved. No bra (didn’t need one then!) And I recall you asked me during the reception to slip off my tiny black lace panties and hand them to you. I excused myself, pleased to find them already moist in anticipation, and returned a few minutes later, gift in hand.
“‘I have something for you, darling,’ I said as I tucked them into your jacket pocket and was briefly mortified when you reached into your pocket, pressed the gift to your lips, and casually returned them to their temporary home. Champagne was flowing. I felt so alive, sexy, exciting.
“After an hour of toasting and dancing, we were aglow with sweat and needed a break. You took me by the arm, said, “Let’s go cool off a bit,” and led me down a path through the leafy woods to the lake, where an old rustic boathouse stood, presiding over a secluded narrow cove.
“We climbed the steps to the top deck. The wooden boats and canoes floated peacefully beneath us in their berths. The lights of the vacation cottages on the other side of the cove spilled over the lake, reflecting off the water, making it glow in the moon and starlight. We could hear the music playing—‘Celebrate good times, come on’—and the laughter from the party.
“I leaned over the deck railing and said, ‘It’s so warm, I could just dive in.’
“You came up from behind, pulled me back and put your arms around me. You kissed the back of my neck, sending chills down my spine. ‘Not so fast,’ you replied.
“I pressed back into you and could feel your erection already straining at your formal trousers, fitting nicely between my apple cheeks. I reached around behind and squeezed your cock though your trousers, feeling it grow larger in my hand.
“‘I can go all day with a wet pussy and no one will know,’ I giggled, ‘but you, Sir, can’t go back to the party with that fellow standing at attention.’
“‘Maybe I’m the one that needs to jump in the lake,’ you said.
“‘I have a better idea,’ I ventured. With that, I turned around, pulled a cushion from one of the chairs on the deck, and knelt down in front of you. I unzipped your pants, and out sprang the gorgeous cock that I had become quite addicted to. I planted a wet kiss on the tip, tasting the sweet and salty pre-cum. I knew you were already close.
“I began to swirl and suck and lick his shaft, kneading it with my right hand while my left hand explored my own wetness under my dress. I could feel you arch your back and groan, about to reach the point of no return.
“‘Jesus, Anne, you are going to make me cum!’
“‘Not so fast, big fella,’ I said. ‘We aren’t going back to the party until we both get what we came here for.’
“I stood up and turned around to lean back over the railing. Then I looked back at you over my shoulder, spread my legs, and hiked my tiny dress up to my waist. Reaching down, I began to finger myself.
“You gladly accepted my invitation and slowly slid your firm penis into my warm, welcoming slit. Though you are quite well endowed and sex from behind can be tricky at times, for some reason—probably all the anticipation—the angle was perfection. I could feel you all the way inside, and with my right hand holding the railing and my left busy rubbing my engorged clit, I knew this wasn’t going to take long.
“It crossed my mind that people on the other side of the cove, sitting on their screen porches or washing dishes at their sink, could see us, but I figured that watching two twenty-somethings deeply in love and in the throes of passion was a good thing. I hoped some couple our age now saw us and smiled knowingly, perhaps at another distant memory re-kindled.
“I remember that we came together, and that my little lace panties were barely adequate for post-coital clean up duty.” I looked at Tom. “Does that help you refresh your recollection, counsel?” I asked playfully.
Tom looked down at his lap, where the cock I love now stood at full mast.
“I have an idea,” he said.
“Yes, a good idea. And you know, a good idea is like an old man’s erection. Once you have one, it must be acted on immediately!”
I laughed and said, “Let’s take this discussion inside. I don’t want to shock these neighbors.”
We spent the evening in and out of each others arms, hands, mouths, my pussy, our bed. More stories were told, and we fell that much deeper in love.
Is this possible after 35 years of marriage? And how much longer can we keep this up? Who knows? It will be fun finding out.
I will keep you posted, and sorry for the hiatus.
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