Second Friday

"I think you can guess"

"Tell me".

"If you really want me to."

"I do"

"You know what it means. It means I'll be in bed with Chap, him having me in lots of different ways, and me loving every moment."

Amazingly, she blushes as she says this. But equally, her eyes sparkle.

"Go on. How do you think he'll want to have you? Or how'd you like him to have you?"

I'm looking for the perfect moment to push that middle finger into her. She looks a little taken aback by the question, and for a moment struggles.

"Oh, God. He'll...I'll step into his flat and take my coat off, so he can see me like this. I'd love him to want me immediately, and maybe take me pressed against the wall..."

Sudden, immediate, imperative sex had always been something of an aspiration of hers. It sounds as though she's got ambitions for it tonight. It accounts for the drastically provocative look.

"Hmmm. If I remember rightly, you've always loved that idea. Maybe if you've already taken off the coat when you knock at the door?"

"Oh. I like that idea." She does. She squirms slightly in my lap. "But it'll depend on what the entrance to his flat is like"

I could tell her. It's a modern block in a quiet residential area, looking at Google Earth. She may well get to do just what she hopes. But it's her first time of visiting – that's the change of arrangements referred to earlier, prior to this they've always met at hotels, and it seems she's not done the checks I have. But then, I'm not the only one practising a minor deception.

She's well equipped to achieve her whirlwind sex. I could ask about how she'll do that when they'd need to take precious moments applying a condom as she an I have used through 20 years of marriage. But then, I know about the clandestine acquisition of a diaphragm and spermicide a couple of months back. I'd assumed he- presumably it was he – had objected to the use of condoms, and she'd acquiesced. I surmise she's wearing it already.

That I can even speculate on that is a measure of how much she's changed in that eighteen months. I can't claim that part of my reasons for agreeing initially that she should experiment were entirely unselfish – the idea aroused me greatly. And since, I've certainly benefited from her much-raised libido, and immensely greater sexual confidence. But more and more, of late, she's been making the running, in terms of pushing her own, and indirectly my boundaries. I think I'm addicted, though, and like any addict I return to my fix.

"And then?"

"If I can, I will"

It's a powerful image – this vision of lubricity standing on your doorstep.

"God, you're on heat, aren't you? You've turned into a complete harlot."

"Chap will call me a slut, or worse."

"And you don't mind that?

"It's true, for him. It makes me feel filthy." A pause. "I've never been called anything like that before. It's such a turn-on".

"Then?"

"Later...I don't know. It'll just happen. In bed, sometimes I holds my hands above my head on the headboard, and he leans over me, and... we f...fuck really hard. Really hard, for a long time...I really like that. Tonight, it'd be perfect"

This was a breakthrough. Using the "F" word was a once in a blue moon occurrence.

"...it just makes me feel completely debauched and wild...oooohhhh"

That latter as I finally insert the digit.

She goes quiet, apart from heavy breathing. I imagine she's caught up in the image of that moment. So am I. His hard body over hers, his dark skin against hers, their eyes locked. One habit which she's had from the very start of our being together is that when she approaches climax, she'll arch he back and raise herself on her heels, lifting herself well clear of the mattress. I can envisage her doing just that, in the throes of such in intense coupling.

Although she's never said so directly, it seems unlikely she doesn't climax during these moments. When she and I talked after her first night with Chap, she told me that the sex had been disappointing, mostly due to her own nervousness. With me, it takes oral sex, or a finger on her clitoris to bring her to orgasm; on the other hand, she orgasms multiple time, and easily. It's a rare love-making when she doesn't climax at least twice as part of foreplay, before I enter her. There'd been no such on that first night. When they resumed their affair, after some months, she'd never mentioned that he's any more inclined to do those things; but it's clear that she's hugely and frequently fulfilled when they screw. It leaves it all but impossible to conclude that with him, she comes from penetrative sex. I have to know.

"Does he make you come like that?"

Her eyes are closed as she answers

"Yes...it takes a long time, and I seem to be on the edge forever, but when it happens, it's so, so intense. And then it builds again, two or three or four times..."

She checks herself.

"Are you OK with me telling you this? I don't want..."

"I want to hear. It's exciting for me, too."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I still can't quite believe you're happy for me to do this."

"Come here." I stand, and lead her to stand in front of the bedroom mirror. I stand behind her.

"Look at yourself. You're radiating excitement. You look incredibly hot. There's real confidence in your eyes, you know just how amazingly sexy and gorgeous you are. You look happy now, and you know you'll be feeling blissful later. Then think back two years. How different you were, and life was. Sex was a bit routine, to say the least, and you were feeling miserable and down.

Of course I like what we've got now better – I love you. Our sex life is infinitely better, and add to that it gives me a massive kick to know that you're being uninhibited and sensual "

I've pulled her dress up to her waist, and I'm massaging her mound through the tiny cache of her pants. She puts her own hand over mine, encouraging me to apply pressure. I start to nibble at her neck, and she purrs that she loves me.

"I know. Now, tell me a bit more about what you want to do tonight."

Her voice is more confident now, the slight reluctance gone.

"Lots of things. Different positions. We both like to change around a lot. We always spend some time with me on top – he likes to play with my breasts, and I love how deep it makes him go."

"I'll bet he doesn't call them "breasts"..."

My own hands are on the subject in question.

"My tits. He likes to play with my tits..."

I remove my hands, take both of hers and place them cupping her boobs. She squeezes them rhythmically.

"He's got good taste."

"You like that too, don't you?"

"Oh, yes..."

My hand is back at her quim. As I slide my fingers along the labia, they become immediately wet – there's a trickle of her nectar oozing past the inner lips. I whisper in her ear

"You're absolutely sopping"

"I know. I've been like that since I woke up this morning. I had to wear a sanitary napkin to go to work."

"And after that, you still wonder if this is the right thing to do? When it can get you that turned on?"

"He's got at least two other girls he's sleeping with, you know – but he tells me I get wetter, and I'm hornier than any of the others."

There's actually a look of pride on her face as she says that. Her smile is dazzling. Then a shadow passes over her features. She looks concerned.

"There's something else I should tell you about."

I make a guess.

"Might this be something to do with a diaphragm, by any chance?" I'm careful to avoid there being any note of criticism in my tone.

She's completely thrown.

"Ho...How did you know?"

"If you remember, when you met chap last month, things were a bit of a rush? Well, In the night, I wanted a pee – and I just went into your bathroom (the ensuite to our bedroom is to all intents and purposes her space). You'd left the case out, and I recognised it from a relationship with someone I knew many years ago. Then, when you were back I admit I did a little delving into your bathroom cabinet."

"You're not angry?"

"I'm a bit put out you didn't tell me. But no. I've always told you I trust your judgement, so you must have a reason."

"It was a mix of things...I realised sometimes, I was getting so carried away I couldn't guarantee I'd check he was wearing a condom, and he's far too irresponsible to be trusted on that. And he'd said he didn't like them. Then, a couple of months back, he showed me he'd been tested for any bugs, and was OK. So I thought..."

I gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"You thought best have a back-up. Sensible"

I suspected that was putting a slightly charitable spin on things, but it seemed the right thing to say. However, the confessional mood was on her.

"Yes. Or partly..."

"Partly?"

The lascivious tone had come back to her voice.

"I also thought it would be just easier when he wanted to fuck me. Quicker, and simpler. You know I'm a tart for that. Plus, the idea of him actually coming inside me properly, and of the skin contact was just too indecent."

Wow...that wasn't expected. The self-censorship was gone completely. And with it, any concealment of the darker parts of her desires.

"Like I said, if you think it's the right thing to do. Although I should probably call you a harlot again."

"Chap called me a whore, when I told him. I agreed."

Another squeeze. She continued.

"Tomorrow night, I'm going to do for you absolutely anything you want – no matter how kinky or dirty. You are the most fabulous husband I could imagine."

I beam back at her.

"I'll have a think about it. But something like what you did for my birthday would be a good start".

A couple of months earlier, I had the benefits of our new lifestyle demonstrated to me in spades; she'd had me lie on my back, and spent an hour teasing, stroking and licking my cock and balls with her tongue and mouth, before I exploded. Two years before, she'd outright refused to consider performing fellattio. A year earlier, she'd do it, but only with her back to me, and wouldn't even consider me coming in her mouth. On that night, she'd straddled my calves, leaning forward to grasp my cock. She brought me to the very edge, then slowly slid her lips over my glans, looking me in the eye (indeed, holding back hr hair to ensure I could see everything, before sucking strongly, causing me to fountain semen. She maintained the pressure throughout, then allowed it to cascade down the shaft of my rigid penis.

She'd obviously not only become practiced, but had come to enjoy the effect on her partner of the moment.

She leaned back to whisper into my ear.

"This time I'll swallow. Just let me practice a bit tonight..."

She reached behind her, and squoze my turgid member. Then broke contact.

"It's time for me to go."

She moves back from me, and pulls the fabric of her skirt back down to meet her stocking tops. She's covered again – as far as anything can be said to be covered by that dress.

She goes once more into the dressing room, and returns wearing ballet pumps. She goes to the overnight bag set out on the bed. On top of it, she places a pair of high heels, but not the pair she's been wearing during her showing off to me. These are no less high, but are red, with a complex system of straps up the front, all the way to the ankles. They actually fasten with a small zip at the heel.

I raise an eyebrow, which she notes.

"I can't drive in heels. And there's a problem with those grey ones."

"What's that?"

"He has a bit of a fetish. He likes me to keep my heels on as long as possible when he's screwing me. I don't mind – my legs look better for it. The grey ones slip off too easily, and these don't."

My laugh catches her by surprise.

"What's so funny?"

I explain that it's a cliché of the porn industry – actresses staying shod while otherwise naked. She zips closed the bag, and I say:

"So, it looks as though he wants you as his own personal porn star."

Downstairs, I can smell my takeaway curry, still warm in the oven. She goes to the hall, and pulls on a light raincoat, concealing her provocative garb. I make to open the front door for her, but she stops me.

"I'd better get into the car in the garage. I doubt I can get in without anyone seeing what's under the coat. Oh, and I'll be back by about 10. I won't sleep in too late."

I doubt that. She's shared before that he tends to wake with a morning erection, and makes full use of it. She's been awoken before by being entered, and even if he wakes her first, there's almost no chance there won't be a bout of relaxed, slow, sensuous morning lovemaking. She's said previously how much she adores the contrast with the frenzy of the night before, and ends up dozing for an hour or so afterwards.

She leaves via the back door. I step outside, and wait on the drive. After a short wait, the garage door opens on its electric drive, and out she comes, in her low-slung sports car. ~She stops by me, and the window lowers. I have to bend low to speak to her.

"Have a great time. I love you. And don't forget, tomorrow night's mine..."

"I love you too. And I will. Tomorrow, it's your turn to get your own private porn star, so be ready"

A brief affectionate peck, and she pulls out into the road. I watch the car disappear, before returning to the house. Will I get my pornstar treatment tomorrow? I very much hope so. If not, the following night's a near-certainty.

And, failing that, there's always next month – after the second Friday.