A Man's Secret Desires

In some odd way I was enjoying two women at once. This thought so excited me that I felt my semen rise, yet could not bear to let end this delicious feeling now coursing through me.

I rose up slightly, murmuring, "Karen, may I kiss you?" She looked at me quizzically.

"Down there, I mean."

She paused, then whispered, "Yes, of course."

In an instant I moved down the woman's torso, pausing briefly to taste the firm nipples atop those great pendulous breasts.

I do not know if it is a common among librarians, but this one had clean shaven labia, which now became the object of my kisses and long wet tongue strokes. My cock had rendered her pussy slack and open; I eagerly sank in, running my tongue around its rim, exploring each crevice and fold. By now the woman was soaking wet. A pungent mix of musky aromas filled my nostrils.

Karen gasped as I found her clitoris, whispering, "Ah yes, there!" Several moments passed as my tongue worshiped at the woman's altar. Then an odd thought came to me. I had imagined burying my cock in Briana's tight pussy. But nothing more. Even now could not see myself pleasuring the girl with my mouth.

So now it was Karen and Karen alone that I was enjoying. Briana's pussy was an imaginary paradise; but now I was delighting in one that was very real and ever so delectable.

So full and ripe was the woman's clitoris that I could hold it with my lips and gently caress it with my tongue. Karen began to gasp and heave, holding my face to her pussy. I in turn clutched her hips and held on for dear life, fully savoring the taste of her. When she began to cry out her orgasm, she thrust her thighs against my head, so that I was entirely enveloped by Karen's body. I had thought her pussy to be wet before, but now, as she climaxed, came a flood of juices, of every taste and flavor, washing over my lips and tongue.

For a long time, until Karen's breathing finally began to slow, I remained in gentle service to her pussy. Then I rose up and went to mount her again, but she murmured, "Sweetie, let me return the favor."

She pushed me over and knelt between my thighs. Now came the divine sensation of her warm mouth welcoming my cock. I thought again of Briana. But try as I might, I could not picture her delicate little mouth engulfing my hard member. No, this was a job for an experienced woman; one who knows what she is doing.

A woman like Karen. I watched in awe as her lips glided ever so slowly down my shaft; felt my cock head reach the back of her mouth, then enter her throat. Deeper and deeper it went, until the librarian had fully deep-throated me.

But her ministrations had only begun. To my amazement she held my cock for long seconds, then began to use her throat muscles in a swallowing action to massage my cock.

The sensation was indescribable. I gasped and moaned. Still the woman worked her magic. She slowly withdrew; I prayed for an encore. Again she engulfed my manhood; again she held and massaged it, sending me into tremors of ecstasy.

My cock was now eager for that final release, but I wanted the warmth of Karen's body against me when it happened. I wanted her pussy.

"Karen, love," I gasped, "I want to be in you again."

"I was hoping you'd say that," she smiled. She then withdrew and lay on her back. In a trice I was astride the woman. My first few thrusts into her slippery wet sheath produced a stunning climax, one of those where the surges of sweet electricity run all the way down to your toes and back, throughout and to every extremity.

Adding to my bliss was Karen's second orgasm, a full blown eruption that brought her to heights equal to my own. For long moments we thrashed about on the mattress in wild abandon, each wanting only to wring every ounce of pleasure from this divine experience.

Afterwards came long moments of silence as we kissed and caressed each other. I savored the delicious taste of perspiration covering her breasts and chest. I reveled in the intoxicating aroma of a woman's body now opened like a flower.

Only then did the realization come to me. Karen's mouth, her pussy, the essence of her body, had driven all thoughts of Briana from my mind. I had begun making love to my niece, but ended making love to a sensuous creature who was her opposite in almost every way.

I had begun with a fantasy, but had ended with reality. And the reality was much better.

"Ah Karen," I sighed, "that was incredible. I never knew! Never imagined."

Speaking in a low voice so different from Briana's lilt, Karen replied, "You could have had all this a year ago, Mark. I waited to see if you really cared for me, but that feeling never came." She paused; then went on, "but I'm hoping you're different now."

"Karen, can we have a second chance? I really want that."

She smiled: the smile of a mature woman who knows herself and who knows men. Drawing her hand along my cheek, she said, "I think so. But Mark, outside this bedroom I'm still the same woman you knew last year. And I won't be anyone's sex buddy. I want more."

"You deserve more, Karen. You deserve everything."

******

Even as I spoke those words, I was not certain I could be the man Karen wanted. But during the next few months I learned something about myself. Perhaps it is true of men in general. I am not especially proud to confess this. But it is a fact.

I discovered how much my relationship with Karen became enriched by the pleasure and promise of her body. Each time I made passionate love to her, the woman literally became more beautiful to my eyes. Her lips became softer; her eyes grew to be deep pools into which I never tired of gazing.

Each time Karen pleasured me with her mouth, her voice was somehow more pleasant. Each time she spread her thighs to welcome my cock, her little idiosyncrasies became more charming. Her clever remarks were funnier.

Soon I realized that the hours we spent at the museum or restaurant, or just on long walks through the park, were as enjoyable as those hours of ecstasy in her bedroom. I could not separate the pleasure of hearing her thoughts on impressionist art from the pleasure of moving my hand over the heft of her supple bosom. Karen gradually but surely became one thing, whole and entire.

Each facet of the woman complemented the others; each was essential to my appreciation of her. I was still reminded every day of Briana's sensuality. But the desires they engendered were now a mere candle compared to Karen's great bonfire. It was a fire that comes when a man goes beyond merely desiring a woman and begins to feel something deep and permanent.

******

To my great good fortune, Karen began to see me the same way. In her warm looks, in the easy banter between us, in the natural way we made love, there could be no doubt. That winter, when I knelt on one knee and offered Karen a ring, I was quite certain what her answer would be.

A few nights ago I lay in bed watching my wife. Having given her husband every pleasure a man could hope for, Karen was now drifting off to sleep. Memories of how all this came to be flooded over me. I recalled dancing with Karen at our wedding reception. And then dancing with Briana.

My young niece had been a vision in pink and white; in silk and lace. We moved around the dance floor, the vertical expression of a horizontal idea that would never be.

As always the innocent naïf, Briana held her body close to mine, the tips of her breasts touching my chest. She beamed with pleasure, whispering, "I'm so proud of you, Uncle Mark. So happy!" The look she gave me said that young Briana never knew the lustful thoughts that her sexuality had aroused in me.

But I wonder. Perhaps the thought did occur to her. Perhaps she always treated me as a kindly uncle because I always behaved that way. But did she ever lie in bed and imagine us as lovers? Did she suppress those images because she truly was both innocent and virtuous? What thoughts lie in the deepest part of a young woman's heart?

I recalled the time I introduced Karen to Briana. I had worried that Karen might sense with her woman's radar the role my delectable niece had played in all this. Briana's beauty, however, is subtle, that of a delicate orchid rather than a gaudy rose. If Karen had any suspicion of my desires toward Briana, she never expressed it. But again, I do not know my wife's innermost feelings. Perhaps the idea did cross her mind. Maybe it is a part of her own secret world of thoughts and emotions that she shares with no one else.

No man could love a woman more than I now love Karen. But I will always feel a certain unease that I began to date Karen only because I wanted but could not have Briana. If the two women could somehow know all the thoughts and desires I felt that summer, would their affection for me turn to contempt? Perhaps. But it is a moot point. They will never know. Those secrets will remain hidden in my own heart.

So in the end, how do you judge a man? By his actions alone, or by the feelings that drove him to those actions? I do not know the answer.