The Orgasm Gourmet

I closed it just in time. The bedroom door opened, and I heard someone march in. A man's voice.

"Honey, are you still in bed? I forgot my belt!"

Her husband? Christ! I had assumed they were separated, or at least he was away on a business trip. How could she do this?

The closet door had a central panel with slanted wooden slats, and I could squint through the slits, sizing up my competition. He was older than me, but he looked pretty fit, and he actually looked like a nice guy.

"Oh, you're always forgetting something these days," Lena's calm voice rose from the bed, where she appeared to be innocently lounging beneath the covers. "Are you sure this biking to the office is going to work, honey?"

"Yeah, I've just got to get used to it. Anyway, my belt's right here in the closet."

He was going to open the closet door? I was dead meat. My heart nearly stopped.

But he walked to the other side of the room, where there was an identical closet door. Of course, Donald Major would have his own walk-in closet! While he was rummaging in his drawers, I looked around me, trying not to make a sound. The closet I was in had only woman's clothes, so I was safe for the moment. And it looked like there was another door at the far end. Maybe it connected to a bathroom? Probably Donald had his own, too. His and Her bathrooms – how civilized!

Donald came back into the bedroom.

"Baby, you look hotter than you did when I left! I'm tempted to give you another round!"

"Oh, Darling!" Lena sounded surprised.

She seemed to hesitate. I wondered how she would put him off. Then a sensuous smile crept over her face, and with a pouty expression and a voice that dripped sensuality she said "...that would be verrry nice..."

"Maybe I'll just give you a little lick where you need it most."

If I had a camera, I could have gotten $1 million, no, $10 million, for a shot of the expression on her face at that moment. A thousand warring impulses...was it fear or excitement? But she never looked lovelier, either. So cool under pressure!

"You know I'll never turn you down on that offer," she said.

He pulled the sheets back, exposing her legs, and placed his face right where my cock had been two minutes earlier. If he noticed anything unusual, he gave no sign of it. On the contrary, he licked her eagerly, turning her on more and more, right in front of me. Watching her luscious mouth contorting with pleasure, while her hips twisted and her belly rose and fell with her breath, faster and faster, was the sweetest torture I had ever experienced.

But why doesn't her husband react to the fact that her pussy was so wet from lovemaking this morning...doesn't he notice that it's not just her nectar but also the fluids of a man that he's licking? The only reason he would not suspect anything would be if Lena and Donald were having sex that same morning before Donald left for work. Is that the reason she was always so wet when I came to her?

Donald raised his head and pulled away from her pussy. Whew, I thought, he's decided he has to leave.

But he just said "Baby, I can't leave you like this," and began stripping off his bike shorts. She smiled up at him as his cock sprung free of his pants, and without even taking the time to slip them off his feet, he plunged into her.

"You turn me on more every day," he said, while pumping up and down on her. I could see their pelvises smacking, they were going at it so hard. She began moaning in genuine passion, and her husband began to pick up the pace. I watched as she raised her sinuous legs toward the ceiling, only to let them fall back on the bed minutes later as she gave in to the feelings. I watched her breasts jiggle back and forth in time to her husband's thrusts. It was a beautiful agony, and it went on for what seemed like hours, though the clock's chime at 9:00 am told a different story.

Hearing the clock, Donald suddenly pulled out of his panting wife.

"Damn," he said. "I can't believe we're doing this. I'm so late! Sorry, honey, I've really got to head in now."

He pulled his shorts back up his waist, grabbed his belt, gave her nearly crimson face a kiss, and was out the door. He must have taken the stairs two at a time. A moment later I heard the front door open and then slam shut.

I was relieved, but I had no idea what I was going to do now.

"Come," she said to me, "you have a job to finish."

Whose job am I finishing, I wondered, as I opened the closet door, and climbed back into bed with my naughty lover. She was already at a peak of arousal. She turned over on her tummy and offered her delicious rear end to me. Within minutes she was once more vocalizing the intensity of her orgasm as her pussy spasmed again and again on my cock.

As usual, Lena said nothing to me after making love, and I realized that she wanted me to leave. Instead of exiting the bedroom the usual way, I took a detour and walked through her closet to her very feminine bathroom. It was a truly beautiful space, full of natural light and mirrors. I had to imagine seeing Lena in there, with her beauty reflected from every angle.

As an architect, I had to admire the design. How did they get so much light in here? Ah...because it had not only a skylight but also exterior glass doors. Letting myself out through the double doors, I found myself on an upstairs patio, with foliage and privacy. It was a secluded Eden in the middle of Georgetown, with its own staircase to the back yard. I walked down the stairs and started home, lost in thought.

So, her husband was in town after all, not on a business trip, as I had assumed. The scenario that Lena had painted over coffee really was the truth, not a joke. Maybe she just couldn't have orgasms with Donald, and, as a well brought up but highly sexual woman, she had finally cracked and taken a lover. But was she calling him every morning right after her husband had been making love to her? It couldn't be. No one is that cynical...if they normally made love in the morning, surely she would wash up first and call for Gabriel at lunch time or later in the day?

Chapter 3. Poor Donald

On Thursday there was no message from Lena. But I guessed that she couldn't go two days without her new lover, so on Friday morning, instead of waiting for her to beckon me at 8:00 a.m., I decided to take matters in my own hands. Shortly after 7:00 a.m., I walked briskly in the direction of her home, this time approaching from the back alley. Taking care to mute my cell phone, I hopped the low fence into the garden, and silently mounted the back stairs onto Lena's secret patio. I waited a few minutes, listening for sounds or movement from within. But nothing.

Screwing up my courage, I tried the door to Lena's bathroom. It was open! I slipped in, and crept carefully into the closet. The door on the far side of the closet was shut, but through the slats I could see all I wanted. Sure enough, there was Lena, and her husband again had his face locked between her legs. It was not quite 7:20, and Donald was already doing his best to warm her up.

This time, I was more mentally prepared to watch my lover in the arms of another man. It was such a pleasure to see her body naked and in passion, and I realized that from one point of view this was a rare treat. Watching her lithe form transform from inert lethargy into a thrashing tigress was a sight to behold.

Donald did not appear to be an inept lover, either. Perhaps a bit on the ‘eager to please' side, and fairly conventional, but he did seem to be giving her pleasure. He had his cock into her by 7:30, and things seemed to be moving along well, but even as his pace started picking up around 7:50, Lena's responses didn't seem to be matching his.

Then I heard her begin to moan. So...she was finally getting near climax? It was a little hard to tell. As her cries rose in volume and pitch, I compared those sounds to the sounds she had made with me. There was a difference. It lacked a certain inevitability. When she climaxed with me, it was like she was being dragged into it, and while it tended to last an amazingly long time, it actually hit her rather suddenly.

But here, it was building up slowly, rather theatrically. Theatrically! Oh my god, she's faking it. She's giving a performance!

And oh, what a performance. It was actually magnificent. If I didn't know better, I would have swallowed this performance as the real thing. Sure enough, poor Donald couldn't resist, and precisely one minute before 8:00 a.m., there he was, pumping his jism into her for all he was worth, while she was imitating a cat on a hot tin roof, spurring him to greater heights, getting him to come soon enough to get to the office on time. She really deserved an Oscar. I stared at her with a mixture of awe and admiration.

Poor Donald. With a sweet smile of triumph and devotion, he picked himself off the bed, gave her a kiss, and pulled on his biking clothes. I figured that he must shower at the office, because within a minute he was out the front door.

I watched as Lena sighed, with what seemed like a trace of disappointment. Then her eyes wandered over to the cell phone on her nightstand. She reached for it, typed a single word, and a moment later, I felt the faint buzzing in my pocket. I knew that word was "come". She needed to come.

Boldly, I opened the closet door and stepped into the room. She looked up at me, surprised but not startled. I smiled. She rolled her eyes once, hardly believing my effrontery. But then she looked back at me again, and this time all I saw was passion.

Now I understood why she texted me every morning the moment her husband left. She couldn't stand being left on the edge of the cliff. And she was tired of finishing herself off alone. She needed me to finish off what her husband had started.

This was why she never let me go down on her. This was why she was always so wet when I first entered her pussy.

At some level this was a lot to process, and I knew I would be spending long hours trying to understand and adjust. But right now, none of that mattered to me. All that mattered was this astonishing work of art who wanted me, now now now.

She beckoned me to the bed, and at last she spoke with an alluring smile.

"You're getting faster."

I was inside her in an instant, my boner of the last 45 minutes finally fulfilling its purpose. Again, I felt the amazing sensation when I was inside her, that I could feel her feelings with each movement I made. I wondered if it was some kind of telepathy. All I knew was she was so open to me. I felt such freedom inside her to explore her body, her sensations. And I was rewarded not just with her stunning body but also with her remarkable, almost musical resonance with my every motion. I built to a frenzy, fueled by a combination of jealousy, anger, passion and triumph. She matched my intensity, a savage captured on this bed and fucking every man who touched her. And as before, we peaked together in a smashing crescendo.

Ten minutes later, after my heartbeat had stopped racing and I could breathe normally again, she turned to me.

"Did you like watching?"

Instead of replying I kissed her passionately, then took my leave. This time, I was the one avoiding small talk.

I met her twice more the following week, carefully avoiding any overlap with her husband. But by now the pattern was obvious. Each time she called me, I arrived to find her pussy full of his seed, and she didn't bother to hide it.

She hadn't been able to reach orgasm. She needed the intensity, the lure of the forbidden, the aura of transgression. She needed me. That's what brought her over the top.

As for me, fucking her in her marital bed, knowing that her pussy was overflowing with his cum and mine, jacked up the sense of transgression for me too. I had been making love to a movie star. Now I was fucking a goddess who reveled in crossing the boundaries of mere mortals.

Chapter 4. Lena's Confession

After class the following Monday, she surprised me.

"Would you take me again for coffee?"

Of course I obliged, and in a quiet corner of the same café, and she finally opened up to me.

"Donald is a skilled lover, I'll admit, and before we were married, he was able to satisfy me. But when he was courting me, I still had a string of other lovers."

Now she lowered her voice. "He didn't know it, but Donald rarely fucked me when I didn't already have another man's cum dripping down my legs. Or, sometimes it was the other way, I would make love to him, knowing I had another lover waiting to see me in an hour. I thrived on the excitement and the variety.

"I had really become very used to having men at my beck and call, but I knew it was wrong. I resolved to become a "good girl" after we were engaged. But the question of fidelity never came up, and after just a few days of boring faithfulness, it was too easy to start seeing my other lovers again. This time I promised myself that I would turn over a new leaf after taking my wedding vows, because I really loved him and I didn't want to continue being a ‘bad girl'."

At this point I was burning to ask her, didn't Donald suspect anything? Didn't he notice that your pussy and thighs were slick with other men's semen? On the other hand, she was on a roll, and I didn't want to risk some kind of shame reaction on her part that would interrupt this fascinating story. I needn't have worried, because she answered my questions before I could even ask them.

"It was especially easy for me, too, because Donald was completely clueless about my liaisons. He did notice that my pussy was constantly wet, but he just figured I was unusually well lubricated. He even liked to make a joke of it, saying that I must find being with him a real turn-on, because I always got so wet as soon as he turned up. Amazing, really, that he didn't know the difference. He would even lick my pussy with other men's cum inside it, but since it was there almost all the time, he just thought that's how I tasted."

She smiled ruefully. "Which, in way, was kind of true. In those days, I really did taste of sperm constantly."

"After our wedding in San Francisco, Donald got an offer from a prominent law firm in Washington, and we moved into that beautiful house in Georgetown. None of my convenient lovers were close by any more, and it was easier for me to start fresh in my new role as the faithful wife of a prominent Washington lawyer."

She was looking at me imploringly with those wide, movie star eyes. I guess she really did feel guilty at some level, and she wanted someone to understand what she was going through. Who else could she confide in?

"But I had no idea what I was getting myself into. After the move, I could never reach orgasm. Well, except with my vibrator, but that doesn't count. At first I couldn't understand it. Donald had been able to give me orgasms regularly back in San Francisco. But finally I put two and two together, and realized that I had only orgasmed with Donald when I was being naughty, when my pussy was full of another man's sperm. Since that realization, I've been quite depressed. That was nine months ago, and I've been going quietly mad.

"Until I met you in our wonderful cooking class, and you made me that offer. For the first time since moving to Washington, I felt this excited glow in my belly. I remembered how wonderful it feels to invite another man into my bed, for him to pinch my nipples in a different way, to run my fingers over a fresh new penis, to feel that fresh eager hardness all over again, to know that I was so desirable that I could use one man after another."

Her voice had been quiet, but she made it even softer and yet more intense.

"Last week, when Donald came back for his belt, I knew you were watching us make love, and I almost came with him for the first time since our wedding. After he left, when you entered me again, I felt a visceral release inside me. It was like my soul had leapt for joy. I felt liberated. I had my old self back. I knew what I needed, and the climax I had with you that morning was like a jet plane taking off inside me. It was pure bliss."

She paused, looking out the window at the park across the street.

"It's the best feeling in the world."

This was quite a revelation. I was blown away by her story and her honesty. And humbled by my role in these events.

There was a long moment of silence while I let this sink in. But then somewhat shyly she turned back toward me. With a pleading tone I had never heard before, she raised her lovely face to mine and said "I need to ask you for one more favor."

"Anything," I answered.

Standing in her closet again the next morning, I wondered if I really should have promised her "anything." I had hardly slept that night, knowing that I had promised to sneak into her closet again and watch them making love. Did this make me a voyeur? No, I supposed not, since I was doing it against my will. She was the voyeur. No, I guess she would be called an exhibitionist.

It was more than that. She not only wanted to be watched, she wanted to be watched secretly, and then penetrated by the watcher when her husband had left. Pretty kinky. But she had begged me, with those big movie star eyes. I knew I needed to satisfy her or I would lose her.

Chapter 5. Lena's Desire Fulfilled

I was in the closet again.

She was on her back, and Donald had been on top of her already for 15 minutes when she asked him for a favor, too.

"Cum on the outside," she told her husband. "When you cum I want you to spray my pussy with your cum." She said this between grunts, as she began faking her orgasm.

This got Donald so turned on that he came soon after, pumping hard into her. After two spurts inside her pussy, she pushed on his chest and, with a smile on her face, and said "give it to me, Tiger!"

Only then did he remember her request, and he pulled his still twitching cock out of her engorged pussy. He roared and spurted several more times, surprisingly fat creamy gobs all over her hairless pussy, her belly and her thighs. He was clearly turned on by the novelty of her request, and by her wantonness.

When he had finished cumming, she looked down and admired his work. "Darling, I think you missed me when you were in New York!"

Donald smiled back at her, noticing the thick clumps of cum all over her belly and thighs.

"Yeah, Baby. I couldn't believe you were already asleep when I got home last night. I've been saving up for you!"

Then, quick as a wink, he wiped off his still dripping cock, slipped on his biking clothes and was out the door in less than two minutes.

I waited until I could hear the front door closing, and emerged from the closet. Despite my trepidation about what had just happened, my cock was hard as steel, tenting my pants. Lena's eyes went directly to the bulge in my crotch, and they widened with pleasure. "I'm glad you could make it," she said with a shy smile. "Do you enjoy watching me?"

I didn't answer. In two strides I was at the foot of the bed, tearing off my clothes.

She looked up at me with her puppy dog eyes. "I want you to lick my pussy."

She was testing me. She wanted to see what I would do. How much control she had over me.

I knelt down, my eyes between her legs. Her pussy, tummy and thighs were covered with sperm. It was all over her labia, the lovely tight tendon at the base of her thighs, and there was even more slowly dripping from her slit.

I had no choice. I leaned forward and plunged my lips onto her pussy, flicking her clit with my tongue. I figured that this way, anyway, I wouldn't have to really taste it that much.

But she insisted. "Lick it," she said. "Lick me clean."

So I did.