A Winter's Reverie

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She recalls that day of passion.
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GeeGee2
GeeGee2
40 Followers

Hi! It's Geri here again. My real name is Gerlinde, which is a fairly common name in the region of Germany where I originally came from. But when I came to the U.S. to attend college everyone called me Geri, and that's what I've been ever since.

A short time ago my husband Roger and I each related here on Literotica our individual reminiscences of an event of passion and seduction that occurred early last autumn while we were on vacation. His version was called "Just Another Rainy Afternoon in Paradise". My version was "Her Rainy Afternoon in Paradise". Those of you readers who have read the stories might have a better understanding of what I'm about to share with you. If not, both versions make pretty exciting reading! Although I think mine is a bit more stimulating.

I have always been an extremely private person adamantly refusing to acknowledge in any way Roger's suggestions to "experiment" with our times of intimacy. Roger on the other hand is a consummate voyeur. I simply can't understand why it is but I've been told that many a husband fantasizes about watching his wife being intimate with another man. Apparently my husband is no exception having dropped a hint now and then. After 18 years of marriage Roger was finally convinced that nothing of that sort would ever take place. But sometimes strange things happen and we impulsively fall under the spell of the moment.

In any case, several months have passed since that fantastically exciting spellbound stormy day on the delightful Caribbean island of Dominica where Roger and I vacation each year celebrating our wedding anniversary. Roger has been true to my wishes and has never mentioned that unbelievable afternoon of completely unplanned sexual passion that he and I spent with Kurt - a stranger we had met only the day before - while we took refuge in Kurt's cottage from the severe tropical storm that was raging outside.

However, over the past months my thoughts have nevertheless from time to time drifted back to that most memorable afternoon. Anyone may daydream of anything they wish as your thoughts are free, as are mine - the German for which is Meine Gedenken sind frei.

The colors of autumn had passed through that bleak depressing, gray, bare-tree fall and it was now winter in the northeast. And, as is often the case, a typical blustery snow storm had hit earlier that Friday afternoon. I barely made it home from a long tiring day at the office as the winter blizzard had started piling up snow on the roads and driving wasn't much fun. Treacherous actually! Roger was out of town on some critically important legal matter. He was expected to return home that weekend so I was left alone from Wednesday through Sunday. Hopefully the storm wouldn't delay his return.

I called Roger as soon as I arrived home to assure him that I had returned safely as I was sure he had heard about the storm and would undoubtedly be concerned. When either of us is away we always call if for no other reason than to simply chat and to hear each other's voice.

I had just gotten out of the shower and was curled up on the sofa in our living room snuggly wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe watching through the shelter of the sliding glass doors as the snow drifts were piling up against the house and listening to the chill winter wind whistling through the branches of the leafless trees. I had placed some logs in the fireplace and was enjoying the warmth of the crackling fire, safe from the elements raging outside, while sipping the last of a glass of Malbec left over from my solitary dinner of reheated leftovers. It felt so good to unwind and let the stress of the work week and the awful drive home fade from my mind.

Scriabin's Poem of Ecstasy was playing seductively in the background. (For those who aren't acquainted with this particular piece, both Roger and I have envisioned it to be a musical depiction of an act of unbridled passion between two people.)

Bored, I was absentmindedly paging through some inconsequential novel. The passage I was reading described the reaction of the central female character as she was being seductively eyed by a stranger while waiting in an airport terminal. All of this - the storm; the wine; the robe; the story - triggered my reminiscing about that amazing afternoon while vacationing in the Caribbean early last fall.

The warming effects of the wine and the fire soothed and relaxed me. I lay back, closed my eyes, and, as if in a dream, I let my mind wander back to the warmth of that magical afternoon. I clearly recalled the sequence of events that took place those months ago in the bedroom of Kurt's cottage and, surprisingly, I found myself becoming aware of strange pleasurable sensations beginning to stir within my body. I remembered the tropical storm with the sounds of rolling thunder and the wind driven rain beating against the glass doors outside Kurt's sheltered cottage while ABBA's soft suggestive Andante was playing within that dimly lit room.

Through my closed eyes I could even see the protagonists - Kurt, Roger, and myself wrapped in a white robe, similar to the one I was now wearing. I recalled the excitement and the exhilarating wrongness of how I willingly responded to Kurt's advances. How things had started innocently enough with his touch on my neck and shoulders as he massaged away a kink I had in my neck and how things surprisingly progressed from there. All the while with Roger right there next to us - excitedly watching - realizing that his fantasy was perhaps about to be fulfilled! How I ultimately permitted myself to be seduced by a person we had only just met the day before, someone we barely knew. How I let myself surrender to the passion of the moment - uncovered, exposed to the eyes of this almost total stranger; intimately touched and caressed; for the first time in almost two decades letting someone other than Roger penetrate me; come inside me; and finally having several amazing orgasms with a man other than my husband. I must admit that knowing Roger was there; anxiously watching us, for some strange reason increased my own excitement.

The satellite TV reception had been lost due to the storm. The book wasn't much of a distraction. Roger was a thousand miles away. I was alone with my thoughts and emotions. Erotic thoughts and sensual emotions heightened by The Poem's soaring trumpet passages which the composer described as "the soul in the orgy of love". Even though I promised myself never again to recreate the events of that day I could feel myself start to tingle with sexual anticipation as the visions appeared distinctly in my mind's eye. And so I lay back and let the anticipation of some strange new pleasure take control of my mind and my body.

I slipped my hand inside my robe and ever so gently - just as Kurt had - caressed my naked breast. Things were tantalizingly different in this setting. My breasts felt silky and firmly soft and their weight to my touch was surprisingly sexual. Not at all like the feeling when I touch myself in the shower. (I could now begin to understand why a man would find a woman's breasts so stimulating.) I continued my tentative fondling and shivered with excitement when I found my sensitive nipple. I lightly pinched and rolled my excited nipples in my fingers. It was as if I was back in that bedroom on that Caribbean island with Kurt touching me like this while Roger looked on.

I haven't masturbated since I was teenager but intimately touching myself this way was titillating, even exhilarating, and yet at the same time somehow embarrassing. I had always been so private, so reserved but I remembered the strange breathtaking thrill I felt when Kurt had opened my robe and exposed my nakedness to both himself and to my husband Roger.

And so I did the same - I undid the belt and folded the robe back away from my body. I recalled how colorless the protected parts of my body - my breasts my belly and my hips -- had been compared to the slight tan I had acquired while on Dominica and how that seemed to erotically enhance my nakedness. By this time the tan had completely faded and my now totally pale body lay upon the white robe which was draped upon the sofa. Though the living room was comfortably warm now I went over and added a few more logs to the glowing embers. Almost immediately the logs burst into flames the flickering light from which created wonderfully strange shadows dancing through the room.

As I returned to the sofa I let the robe slide from my body and drop to the floor. The flickering warmth of the flames felt delightful on my now totally exposed naked flesh. I stretched out on the sofa and let myself drift off - lost in the erotic sensations of the moment. (How white my body looked in stark contrast to the soft black leather of the sofa.)

I let my hands roam sensually over my now tingling body. My searching fingers returned to my breasts. My nipples became erect and super sensitive as I permitted myself to respond to my own stimulating caresses. Yet at the same time I couldn't help but imagine that it was Kurt whose suntanned hands were touching me in this intimate way. I knew it was wrong - but the thought was so exciting. I had never done anything like this since before I met my first husband when I was just a young girl back in Germany. And now I was an adult woman in my 40's. Women of my age just don't this sort of thing - or do they!

I was really unsure of myself. It had been so many years since I had touched myself this way. Nonetheless, I let my fingers hesitantly drift downward and I explored my anxiously waiting naked sex. I was warm and puffy and moist to my touch. It felt wonderful! When I finally got up the nerve to touch my swollen clitoris I involuntarily jumped and gasped. But I knew I couldn't stop myself as the delightfully electric sensations washed over me. I was breathing heavily and my heart was pounding in my chest. Pleasure had overwhelmed my initial embarrassment.

I started gently moving my fingers up and over and around my sensitive clitoris. As I did I could envision Kurt's soft blue-gray eyes gazing at me and imagined that it was he touching me just as he had touched me those months ago - just as I was now touching myself. And the feeling was just about as immensely intense! It was then that I realized - Who knows how to pleasure yourself better than yourself!

I was caught up in the sensual harmonies of the music which the composer explained as "the realization of a fantastic dream". And so, as if I was lost in a wonderful dream, I could see it happening all over again. I could feel it happening all over again! As I continued to arouse myself I remembered how Kurt eventually caressed me with his lips and tongue. I could see him - almost feel him - caressing me again that way. In my imagination my fingers became his tongue and I began increasing the pace - faster - stronger. My other hand left my full breasts with their excited nipples and teasingly slid downward wandering slowly over my warm tingling body.

Scriabin's music was building in my comfortable secluded fire-lit living room. The Poem - increasing in volume - swept through the triumphal crescendo and onto the inevitable finale. I stroked my moist tender labia now drawing apart to reveal my inner lips which were opening like the petals of a warm wet flower. I easily slid one and then two fingers as deeply as I could inside my pulsating moist vagina - all the while imagining it was Kurt as he entered me for that first time. I moved my fingers back and forth within me touching me in places that sent waves of delight from my hands up throughout my body. I was totally lost in the images running through my mind and the overpowering physical sensations as the urgency of my impending sexual release welled up inside me. (How far could I go with this?)

As the music reached its climax at long last my body tensed, and I cried out as The Poem's ultimate chords of ecstasy came crashing down simultaneously joining my own ecstasy, my own climax, as every muscle in my body contracted and waves of intense pleasure engulfed me. I was helplessly enveloped in the magnificent sensations and thrilling convulsions of an overwhelming orgasm that coursed through my entire body. I drew my knees up and collapsed into a ball with my hands clamped against my pulsating sex as the excitement of this powerful, wonderfully pleasurable climax raged on and on for what seemed like minute after delightful minute.

It took quite a while before my trembling perspiring body and racing heart finally returned to something approaching normal. Eventually I was able to open my eyes and come back to the reality of my living room. As the pleasure ebbed the sense of embarrassment returned. But when at last it dawned upon me how much enjoyment I just had for some strange reason I couldn't help myself from giggling. Then I had a fleeting thought - Why had I never done this before?!

Unbelievably, alone in the solitude of my home, I had actually brought myself to an amazingly intense orgasm. Or had I. Had I actually done this by myself or did the remembrance of that rainy day while on vacation on Dominica cause me to explore this avenue of self-pleasure? Did Kurt assist in bringing me to climax? Did I just have a psychological "one-night-stand" with the same stranger who had given me orgasm after orgasm those months ago? Had I somehow just "cheated" on Roger?

These are questions I could never really answer. But now it was apparently my turn to explore a fantasy of my own and it certainly felt marvelously exciting, extraordinarily pleasurable and delightfully rewarding!

I'm sure my voyeuristic husband Roger would like me to tell him of this experience - in detail. Almost certainly he would love for me to repeat this while he watched. But I'm not sure that I ever could do that. Because, all that had just taken place was a creation born of my own private thoughts. And, as I had said previously - Meine Gedanken sind frei!

GeeGee2
GeeGee2
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be24yoube24youover 9 years ago
Nice

I really liked this little story, a wonderful memory of times gone. One has to be allowed to enjoy oneself. Hopefully Geri told her husband of her dreams. I am sure it would result in a still better relation. It is true that 'Meine Gedanken sind frei' but often it is very productive to share ones thinking with others. Especially when it comes to the marriage partner.

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