Will & Terri Ch. 02: Lube Job

Terri understood the implication. There would be this marvelous stew she remembered from her teen aged years, a bottle of wine, or two, and then Paul would try to kiss her. Did she want that? Even though Will had told her he wouldn't mind, if it would make her happy, was this something that was wise? "Let me think about it," she dodged.

They walked back to the cars, Paul opened her door, a gentlemanly move, she rewarded him with a cool hug, a dry kiss on the cheek. On the drive home, she considered her reactions, her wishes and needs, what she was going to tell Will, who was certainly going to grill her.

Did she want to spend an hour or two in bed with Paul? That was an easy one — her body had reacted when Paul touched her, she recalled how it had reacted those decades ago, she was certain if she let him she'd react again. She remembered being with Jonathan, how the naughtiness of the situation had given a spice to their love-making. Yes, she'd enjoy the physical aspect of hanky-panky with Paul.

But what about the after? Would he expect an affair? Did she want an affair? Jonathan hadn't been an affair, when he left the resort it was over. With Paul it certainly wouldn't be that clean-cut. She remembered the hurt that had followed her romance. How she'd cried and been depressed for weeks following, how her girlfriends took pity upon her, tried to cheer her. In no way did she want a repeat of that!

She was terribly keyed up when she got home. Will was waiting for her, curious about the encounter. "We just had drinks, small plates. A lot of talk. No, I'm not hungry. But there is something I want, take me to bed."

She was the aggressor with her husband, doing things to him her body was insisting she wanted to do with Paul. She had Will suck vigorously on her nipples and clit, she wildly brought him nearly to culmination with her mouth, when they linked in cowgirl she touched herself, rode him frenetically, came unrestrainedly. After forty minutes of love-making, more time than the last three sessions all together, she finally consented to answer her husband's curiosity about the date with her former lover. "No, we didn't do anything, just ate and then took a walk to the river. Yes, he made a move on me, put his arm around my shoulder, touched my knee; I didn't touch him back. Of course he aroused me, what the hell do you think I've been taking care of? But I'm not sure it would be a good idea for me to take it any further. Why? Well, what if it turns out I wind up loving him? I love you too much to let that happen. Or what if he hurts me again? What then?"

Will tried to reason with her. "I know you love me. This isn't about love, it's about lust, just about having some fun. If you start to get in too deep, I'll be able to see that, I'll tell you to stop. You've got me, how could you get hurt?" As she drifted off to sleep, Terri knew he was right, but still wasn't sure about what, if anything, she was going to do.

Over the next week, she contemplated her desires, her worries, her options. Other than accepting her increased sex drive and satisfying her as necessary — a most pleasant duty — Will didn't try to influence her. In this regard he was a very wise husband. He knew it was her body, and although he was more than willing to share it with Paul, he knew any action had to be her decision.

It was a voicemail on her cell phone twelve days after the dinner that settled it. 'Hey, Paul here. Just wondering if you were ever going to take me up on my offer. I stopped down at the old butcher's store, he's got some wonderful lamb in stock, should I buy a pound? Give me a call.'

Two hours after she heard the voicemail, she rang him up, knowing what her answer, at least for stew, was going to be. "Hi, Paul," she said when he answered. "Got your message . . . Yes, I'd like to taste it again . . . No, Friday night won't work for me, Will and I are going to the concert with another couple . . . Let me look . . . I don't have anything on my schedule for Tuesday night, is that good for you? . . . Great, can I bring anything? Wine? . . . Okay, see you then."

It was time to break the news to Will. He was sitting in the living room, toying with his laptop. "Honey, your bowling starts Tuesday night, doesn't it?"

"Yep, just like always." He'd been in the guy's league for nearly a decade now.

"Well, would you mind if I went over to Paul's? He's going to make me stew."

Will laughed. "Make you stew? Is that what we're calling sex now?"

"No, really, his mother used to make this wonderful French stew when I was a teenager, Paul says he knows how to do it."

"Of course I don't mind. Do you think . . ."

"I really don't know. We've talked about this. There's a part of me that wants to, but I'm uneasy about it, too."

He held her in his arms. "I know. Just be sure you know if anything does happen, I'll be okay with it."

"Thanks. I love you."

She parked her car in Paul's driveway. The home was a small two story bungalow near the top of a hill at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was warm, hot actually, in the late August evening. Terri saw Paul waiting for him at the door, as he opened it for her she felt the rush of air-conditioning. The smell was succulent, meats and vegetables that had been simmering for hours. Terri accepted a kiss on the cheek, she let it be a little warmer than the last, a promise of something, or nothing.

"You look wonderful," Paul announced. Did she, she wondered, for she'd dressed casually, noncommittally. Culottes ended below the knee, a sleeveless blouse with a high neck, sensible pumps. "You do, too," she replied, handing him a bottle of Bordeaux. He wore shorts and a polo shirt.

He opened the wine, poured two glasses and offered a tour of the house. On the upper floor a small living room, rudimentary kitchen, a master bedroom with full bath. On the lower floor two more tiny bedrooms, a toilet into which a shower had been squeezed, a garage. He took her out into the back yard, sloping away from the house and to the left, trees encircled the lot on two sides, bushes masked neighboring houses. "Nice place," Terri said, "How long have you lived here?"

"We bought it when Julie was pregnant the first time. We thought about buying something bigger a few times, but it just never made sense to move. The guys hated it when they were teenagers, it really was too small, but we made it work. When we divorced, Julie didn't want it so I kept it. It's the right size for a bachelor." There were still traces of feminine decoration, a pastel border around the kitchen, floral wallpaper in the bedroom.

The stew was fifteen minutes from being ready, they sat in the living room on the couch, not too close, and chatted. "You're a language teacher?"

"Yes, Italian and French. Every once in awhile I teach a class in English literature or something."

"And you still love Italy? I remembered when your folks took you the summer before my senior year."

"Absolutely. I went back for a whole month during college with a girlfriend, had a ball." This brought the memory of a boy in a Umbrian hill town, but of course she couldn't tell Paul about that. "And you, you've been at the bank for your whole career?"

"They've treated me well. I went from teller to branch manager and then downtown. I made it up to executive vice-president, I expect I'll retire in a decade unless a bigger bank swallows us up and I find I'm cannon fodder."

They ate at the kitchen table. The stew was delectable, served with warm slices of baguette, just as Terri remembered. Except of course, for the glass of deep red wine, something Mrs. Herbert never would have allowed. The talk continued, became even a little more intimate. "Do you remember," Paul asked, "when we went to the Arts Festival and got rained on?"

"Oh, yes. We were soaked." She then remembered how they drove to Terri's apartment, hung the clothes to dry and then spent two lovely hours in her bed. She was sure Paul recollected that too.

Terri finished her stew, let Paul talk her into another half-bowl, accepted graciously when he said he'd send her home with leftovers, didn't object when he poured the rest of the wine into her glass. She sat as he cleaned up a bit, putting the dishes in the washer. "It's beautiful in the backyard," he suggested. And off they went, she was impressed by the wooded darkness, the sparks of fireflies, the comfiness of the padded glider.

Terri knew what was coming. She waited for Paul's first move, an arm around her shoulders. And now she felt the crux approaching; she still hadn't made up her mind about what the result of the evening would be. If she was going to stop him, the time was now. Paul pulled her to his side, she complied but gave him no other boon, twisting her back slightly, so it was against his side. She let him talk about destinations he thought of as romantic, warm resorts, New Orleans, the California coast.

Their glasses were empty, Paul proposed opening another bottle. Perhaps this was the moment Terri caved, looking back at it, but in her mind she only thought a bit more wine might be nice. Yet as Paul strode back into the house to uncork the liquid, Terri realized her mouth was dry, her heart pounded a little loudly, her skin sensed the breeze easily. When Paul returned, she resumed her position, her back against his chest, but something seemed more intimate, more poetic. "Did Julie ever find out about our affair?"

"No, I don't think so. I certainly never told her. Maybe she suspected. She did find out about another one I had years later. There was quite a row about it. And I discovered she had a lover about five years before we divorced. Did you ever have an affair?"

"No, I've never had one." A little white lie, Jonathan hadn't been an affair, she rationalized.

"Would you like to have one?"

Playfully, "Why? Are you offering?"

Paul was looking for an opening just like this, leapt for the goal. He shifted, turned her towards him, lifted her face, kissed her. She didn't struggle, assisted him in fact, opening her lips to his advance, turning her chest further so her breasts were pressed into him. Paul was eager, he advanced rapidly, his hand rubbing her body, rising higher and higher. Terri understood the dynamic, the moment she'd been anticipating was transpiring. She had to make a choice, up until that very moment she'd felt she'd kept her options open. For a split second she wasn't sure just which path she'd take, and then she held Paul's hand, raised it to her breast.

"I've waited a long time for this, Terri, I didn't know if it would ever happen again."

"I know."

Paul continued his impetus, taking charge of the encounter, hurrying so she wouldn't suddenly think better and call a stop. His hand was prowling both her globes, he knew the thickness of the bra she wore, he understood any attempt to remove it would mean a delay which might bring her to a state of refusal. He pulled her blouse out from her waistband, felt the smooth skin of her belly, raised his hand until he felt the cotton of her brassiere, slipped a finger underneath, flipped it up. Her nipple sprang to his fingers, when he gently pressed it he heard her gasp.

The fact that she continued to press against him, that she still hotly kissed him emboldened him. He let his hand sink into the rayon of her culottes, his fingers touched her panties. Still, she didn't protest so he went further, when he reached her groin he sensed her shift, just slightly, he knew by moving one leg from the other she was giving him license. He shifted the elastic between her legs to the side, placed a finger at her opening. She was wet! Just before he penetrated a finger, she said, "Don't you think we'd be more comfortable in the bedroom?"

He led her though the kitchen and down the hall. "Do you remember how you used to tease me by stripping?"

"Not tonight, Paul," she denied, "my underwear isn't sexy enough." She sat on the bed, pulled the blouse over her head, unwrapped the bra, pulled her trousers and panties down in one swoop. Standing a few feet away, he quickly unclothed as well, throwing his garments to the floor. In a moment he stood before her naked, his erection already in full rage. "Come here," she begged, and when he approached she touched his rod, bent her mouth to take it in. While she sucked on him, tasting his precum, he hefted her breast, wondering that the years hadn't caused them to sag, at least not much, they were still heavy and ripe. When he'd had enough of her gentle sucks he pushed her onto the bed, laid down beside her. She let him kiss her, suck on her nipples, finger inside of her. She was not yet completely aroused, her mind continued to protest against her adultery, much more serious with Paul than it had been with Jonathan, but her body had no such compunctions. Her sheath was dripping, her nipples were sensitive, and Paul understood the signal. He began to climb on top of her, she simply commanded, "You need a condom."

"You didn't use to make me wear one."

"That was before HIV."

A couple of moments were wasted as he reached into a drawer and rolled the plastic on, then Terri reached her arms out to him, he positioned her on her back. He knelt between her legs on his knees, stretching her left leg out to his side, her right leg up to his shoulder. Ah, he remembered, one of her favorites, he had taught it to her as a youth. He then crept closer, until his penis approached her labia. They both fathomed the first penetration, he felt the warmth surround him, she sensed her vagina stretching to accept him. He settled into a rhythm of twelve strokes per minute, she moved her hips to his tempo, raising herself to meet him, at times they'd stop to kiss and fondle. Eventually he sank onto her in missionary or variants of it, they would shift their legs to provide slightly different sensations, at one point she had her thighs pressed tightly while his legs were outside of hers, but at no point did her rump leave the mattress, he was always centered above her.

Eventually, it took more than fifteen minutes, her mind dispensed with the concept that this might not be the best idea, she opened her legs as wide as possible, letting him bury to her cervix, she felt her toes curl, the breath stop. "Now, baby," she cried, and to her demand he speeded, the friction within her crevice inflamed her, her mind turned to colors of pastels. Obviously, in this state of carnality he had to discharge, and moments after she'd gasped the last bit of her orgasm his semen spewed. She held to him as he released, moaning and cooing to him, letting him have every bit of wonder he could.

Even though the lust was satisfied, neither wanted to disconnect. He stayed on top of her, resting most of his weight on elbows and knees, they kissed, stroked each other's face, delighted in the pressure of their bellies against each other. It took more than ten minutes, in which many more thrusts of genitals were attempted, before Paul's durability shrunk to a useless state. With regret, he gingerly crawled down.

"Oh, look at the time," she cried, "It's almost ten o'clock!"

"Why don't you stay?" Paul tempted.

"I wish I could. But what would I tell Will? He's probably already wondering where I am, I'm going to have to think up some excuse. Tell me, is it hard having an affair? You've had your share, this is my first one."

"It depends. You just have to be careful, that's all."

"Phone calls, emails?"

"Stuff like that. Are you planning on seeing me again?" The question, was this the only time, or?

"I'd like to," the married woman admitted. "You know, I didn't know I was going to sleep with you when I got here tonight."

"But you wanted to," Paul laughed.

"Yes, that I'll confess. I'm still not sure it's a good thing, though."

"I want to see you again. I'll make sure it's a good thing. You won't have to worry about me outing you. That's a promise."

"Thank you. Let me sleep on it. I'll let you know. No, let me up, I have to leave."

She quickly dressed, fussed with her hair, with a final kiss she was out the door and into her car. After she'd turned a corner, she stopped and got her cell phone out. One message stood out, from Will.

'You okay?'

'wonderful just wonderful'

'And?'

She sent him an emoji of a flame, followed by 'home in 20'.

Will was waiting for her, he had a hug and an offer of a drink. "No, thank you, I had at least four glasses of wine already. How about iced tea?"

In the kitchen, he poured it for her. "Tell me about it?"

"I got there about seven, we had a drink and dinner. He really can make his stew, I brought home a container of it for you. We went out into his back yard, it's beautiful out there, all wooded, and then, well, I let him seduce me."

"Was it good?"

"Good, yes. Great, not really. I wasn't very relaxed." She gave him a sly glance. "I'll probably feel easier the next time."

"That'll be okay with me. You can stay as long as you want, tell him I'm fine with it. You didn't have to hurry home."

"Dear, I'm not sure I want to let him know you're okay with this."

"Hmmm. Why not?"

"I'm just thinking that if he thinks I'm cheating I'll have a little more control. He might want to be more obvious if he thought there was nothing to hide. This way, I can keep him from being too persistent. That was a little problem when we were young."

"Well, whatever you want is fine with me, you know that. If you want to stay the night or anything, you can tell him I'm away on business or something."

"Thank you."

They headed for the bedroom, when they were between the covers Terri crept into his arms. "Do you want me?" she asked.

"You're not too tired?" he laughed.

"No, not tired at all." As the married couple made love, Will was joyed to think his wife had given this and that to her former - and now current - lover. He asked about sensations, positions, how Paul had changed over the years. It was a bit of surprise as she thought about the prick that had been inside her just an hour before, she was incited and had a few really good comes as her husband licked and screwed at her. Yes, at least for awhile, this was a good thing.

She waited three days before she called Paul. At that, it was after hours from a phone at her school where she wouldn't be overheard. "Hey, sexy!"

"Hey! Why don't you come over here and tell me why you think I'm so sexy."

"What about Tuesday night? That's Will's bowling night, I can get away for a couple of hours."

"I want more than that," Paul groaned.

"You'll have to take what's given," she laughed.

Terri showed up at Paul's house at 6:30, rushing into his arms. "Remember that harem outfit you liked to see me wear?" she teased.

"I sure do."

"Well, give me a few minutes." She hurried into the bedroom, and got into her new costume, the one she'd purchased just for Paul. Oh, she'd let Will see it, but she hadn't put it on for him. When she danced into the living room, Paul took one look at her and applauded. She had long transparent pants of purple on, gathered by elastic as her ankles, a golden belt at her belly. Through them, Paul could see a tiny g-string. The skimpy top was made of similar materials, long sleeves, tight bodice, her buxom breasts were displayed, the nipples clearly stabbing through the thin fabric. She pretended he was a sheik while she was his harem girl, feeding him tidbits from a tray she'd brought from a deli.

The clothes, of course, didn't remain on either of them for long, they sensuously irritated the several erotic zones with hands and mouth. Terri was less restrained this second time with her lover, coming handily as he licked at her labia, and many times thereafter. Missionary wasn't even thought of that night, instead it was a progression of positions that would have done credit to lovers twenty years younger. Paul orgasmed brightly, and probably would have come again had Terri stayed longer than 9:00. But she insisted she didn't want to give her husband any reason to suspect her infidelity.