mature stories & pics xxx

Tom told me a day ago that he would be out of town for a two-day meeting. He would leave tomorrow, and if things went to schedule he could fly out Friday morning or early afternoon and be home by dinner Friday. He traveled a lot in his job as an engineer but usually only short trips like this. I didn’t mind as it gave me some time away from him.

It’s not that I didn’t love my husband. Tom was a good father, a gentle lover and a wonderful provider. He had never given me any cause to want to be away from him but our marriage didn’t seem to be enough for me after the baby was born. Our lovemaking didn’t satisfy me and Tom wasn’t able to meet my needs for companionship. I wasn’t sure what the problem was but I wasn’t happy.
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I apologize for the way this story came out. It was supposed to be three chapters with Tom, Julie and then the final chapter with both, but the middle chapter was initially corrupted so it couldn’t be posted in sequence. I did post it later but it sort of ruined the flow. Anyway, a lot of good readers asked me to finish it, so here it is. Thanks to all who comment both positive and negative. You can guess which ones I listen to.

Thecelt

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It has been just over two years since the divorce and I was looking forward to my weekend with Rachael. Tom and I had agreed during the divorce that I would gradually get more visits with Rachael as I progressed in my recovery. I had begun to see her about 8 months after I began therapy, at first under supervision and then alone. I now saw her almost every weekend. I would leave from work and pick her up. We would go home and fix dinner together, and I treasured my time with her. She was growing so fast and I had missed a vital part of her development. I was there, but not for her. It’s difficult to explain but suffice it to say that I was truly her mother now and I would lose no more time.
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This is a true story of living out a fantasy while on vacation with my husband during the winter of 1995.

We were on vacation in the San Diego area, a coast away from where we lived. Business had brought my husband here and he took me along for the trip. At that time, we had been married for over 10 years, and although we had a good sex life, we were always looking for ways to spice things up a bit.

We had been talking about my feeling less sexually attractive to men during the plane ride out. My husband disputed this, saying that despite being almost 40 years old, with my smooth skin and 5′4″well toned body, I was still a fox.
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(Read chapters 1-3 or you’ll be a little lost here)

The snow had finally abated and the sun shone brightly and blinded me as I stepped outside Jasmine’s front door.

There was no way I could go anywhere. The roads were thick with snow and there was no sign of a snowplow. I found a snow shovel and started digging my way toward the white box that was probably my car.

Whether Jaz was deliriously happy, depressed or somewhere in between, it didn’t much matter. The tension was pretty high inside which was another good reason to be outside and away from it. It felt good to breathe the cold, fresh air and as I dug through the snow, I thought again about Jasmine’s chunky hand around my cock and how, for the third time, she had been responsible for getting my rocks off in spectacular fashion.
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ON THE GENTLE HUNGER AND SLOW SEDUCTION OF JASMINE PILCHER

(If you haven’t read chapters 1 and 2, you might want to look them over first. . . .)

The first thing I heard the next morning was the radio in the kitchen talking about a winter storm and the gentle sound of Jasmine Pilcher singing a church hymn – and a crackling. Not coffee this time but – I sniffed the air – sausage on a griddle.

I looked out the window. It was as white as it could be, not unlike Jasmine’s panty-covered ass that I exploded my cum upon last night. It seemed a century ago.
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I know I’m going to hell for what I tried to do and what I did.

I’ve learned to live with the guilt just as I live with the sad, sweet, depraved and glorious memories.

I don’t figure I’m ever going to get over either. And maybe that’s my real hell.

A few years ago I set my sights on Jasmine Pilcher, a most ordinary woman who came to my attention in a most unusual way. She was walking up to the choir loft at the Sunday 11 o’clock service offered by Pastor Ryan. She and I sing together – or used to sing together – every Sunday and sometimes at special Wednesday services too.
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This is part two of a story involving cuckolding and male power exchange. Please read no further if this offends you.

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I was on my knees, helping my wife Kelli attach her garter belt to her stockings. I leaned forward and planted on a kiss on her newly trimmed pussy.

“Now, now,” she said, “Let’s save that for Ron.”

Based on the email that he sent me, I knew Ron was outside the bedroom walking around our house. He was rifling through my CD’s, looking at our photos, learning everything he could about the relationship he was now about to conquer. This beautiful black Adonis had already seduced both of us. He was completely inside of our heads. Now he was about to consummate our submission to him by fucking Kelli.
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*zzzzzz*…..*zzzzzz*…..The blue cell phone vibrated on the passenger seat as Justine accelerated through the yellow light and onto Germantown Road. She seized it quickly and flipped it open before it rang a third time.

“Hey, Laura. What’s going on?”

“Justine! How’re you doing? I was just wondering if you could drop by and help me out with my physics homework. I really don’t get thermodynamics at all and Ms. Polack can’t teach worth shit.”

Justine smiled. “Sure! I was just heading over to McDonald’s for a pumpkin pie. I’ll drive over to your place as soon as I’m done.”
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This is the first installment in a story of about a black man who manipulates a white husband into granting his permission for the black man to pursue a sexual relationship with the white man’s wife. The story also includes scenes of male power exchange. If this is not your sort of story, please move on. I am not interested in feedback related to the inappropriateness of the subject matter.

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The email arrived today. My heart had been beating frantically ever since I opened it. My lips moved as I read it in silence off the screen:
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(I hope everyone enjoys this very true story. I have written most of it but my wife has inserted her comments in a few places)

Let me give you a little background before I start this story. My wife, Sheree, is a very attractive redhead. She is five six and is in excellent shape. Although she likes sex, she is pretty traditional and isn’t into porno or anything kinky. She is an accountant and is usually pretty focused on work and doesn’t flirt or flaunt her feminine side and dresses pretty conservatively.
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