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This is a continuation of Take Courage, where James is deciding whether to tell his wife about his dalliance on the train with the delightful Leila. I try and write in a way that is as much about understanding the characters as it is about the exceptional sexual escapades they enjoy. Feedback welcomed, thanks for reading. RB
As I walked up the path to my driveway, Leila’s words kept ringing in my ears.
“Please have courage, James.”
Truth is, I was not a courageous man. I was blessed with a certain amount of charm, an intelligence and sense of humour that allowed me to talk myself into and out of situations long before courage or valour came into the equation. I was also very aware that I had perhaps overstated my wife’s level of “okayness” when it comes to all things sex. We have a good sex life, we do it when we can, when life with the children allow. Two kids under 10 will challenge any relationship – and they will take their toll on your energy levels. Many is the night that I have fallen asleep with my hand on my wife’s breast, or a finger tucked snugly against the closed lips of her vagina. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in sex, it was that we were usually both exhausted.
I did feel guilty, but I also held on to the hope that there was a side to Carina that would not be totally averse to such behaviour. This hope sprung from the fact that we had both admitted to having our own little dalliances, and when we found the courage to discuss them with one another, we found it spiced things up in a way we couldn’t have envisaged.
Carina’s story is that she went away to Ibiza with her girlfriends one week, and had let the sun, sangrias (and I suspect a little cocaine) get her thoroughly buzzed. They danced until the sun came up, and she told me that some time around 4am, she got up close and personal with a dark, muscular young man who paid her a lot of attention. She allowed herself to be kissed, she felt his hands on her sides, and delighted in them sliding quickly over her breasts. The hedonism, the holiday spirit, and a burning desire meant that when he led her to a secluded corner, she didn’t resist. Nor did she stop him when his fingers found their way into her knickers and into her dripping cunt. (My word, not hers, she’s never been much for using such language)
When she told me that story, two years after the fact, I was not as affected as I thought I might be. It was exceptionally exciting, to tell the truth. Also, it eased the guilt I felt for my own experiences outside the marital realm.
Twice I had sampled the flesh of another, but only once had I broken the true covenant, and that was a couple of hours ago, on a train home to London from Winchester.
The first of my dalliances was a drunken fumble I can barely recall, the second happened when I was as sober as a judge, and consequently it is burned with brilliant clarity in my memory. Emily was a wife of a good friend of mine. She was voluptuous, voluble and we got on exceptionally well. More than once at group occasions we had locked eyes, and without a doubt we flirted. One night at a party they were hosting, she was doing dishes as the guests slowly disappeared. Brent, her husband, was doing the honours bidding people farewell as she got started on the clean up. Carina and I were staying over the night, and our kids were with her mum in Kent.
“Where do you keep your tea towels?” I asked.
She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled.
“You don’t need to James, I just want to make a start so tomorrow morning won’t be quite so hideous.”
“Exactly.” I said. “So where might I find a tea towel.”
“You’ll have to rummage” she said, hands in the soapy water, then blowing her fringe out of her eyes.
Rummage I did.
I stood behind her and reached around her waist, lifting her top, tracing my hands on the skin along her sides. “Nothing appears to be here, Emily.” I said.
There was a hitch in her voice when she replied. “No, we don’t tend to keep our tea towels there.”
I grew in confidence and ran my hands up over her bra-covered breasts, which felt massive and heavy.
“Nor there.” She said quietly.
I pulled one of the cups aside and felt my way around her left breast, teasing her nipple.
“Here?” I asked.
“Nope, but do keep looking.” She breathed.
I carefully covered up her breast, letting the top fall back into place, and Emily dropped her head, breathing heavily. I then lifted her skirt slowly, gathering it as I went, finally exposing her delightfully round arse, which was free of any underwear.
“Emily, how could you?” I asked in mock horror.
She appeared to want the game to reach its conclusion rather quickly because she leaned forward on her elbows, dropped her head to rest on her arm, and spread her legs, presenting me with her bottom and her open, swollen cunt. I wasted no time – with my left hand I lifted her buttocks so they were taut, and with my right, I pushed my fingers into escort kartal her, firmly scissoring in and out. I alternated between this and taking swipes up to her clitoris, and within 60 seconds Emily exploded in orgasm. I dropped her skirt and washed my hands moments before Brent walked in, declaring that they were free of guests and that a goodnight whiskey was in order.
I remember I gulped the fiery liquid down, quelling the first pangs of guilt.
So here I was, on the doorstep, feeling any thoughts of courage ebbing away. It was 6:30 at night, I braced myself for the onslaught of children, the sensorial overload of noise and young energetic bodies, demands on my time, demands on my fragile psyche, but when I opened the door and crossed the threshold, I was met with blissful silence. I called out their names, I called for Carina, but there was no response.
I looked around the house and in the kitchen a note in my wife’s neat hand was clipped to a hamburger magnet on the fridge.
Hiya, Mum has the kids – she’s taking them for a special day out tomorrow, and I’m at a music festival with Karen, she got me last minute tickets. Won’t be too late, but might have a sore head!
I was hugely relieved to have some time to myself, to consider what I should do. In my time honoured style, however, I found any number of things to distract me from thinking about the big stuff in life, choosing instead to find urgency in cleaning the house. In an hour, the bathrooms were gleaming, the kitchen smelled of bleach, and the carpets were spotless. I had just put the hoover away when my wife walked in with Karen in tow.
“Hello, my long lost husband – where have you been all weekend? I’ve missed our special sleep ins” slurred my wife. I looked into her eyes and saw that she was clearly a sheet or two to the wind. Which made me feel better, somehow. She’s a lovely drunk – happy, clumsy and affectionate. I looked up and saw Karen was watching her with amusement, but her eyes were also red and she looked like she’d enjoyed a drink or two. “Karen’s going to have a drink here while her cab comes.” Carina said.
“Have you two ladies been up to mischief?” I asked. They dissolved into giggles
“Define mischief” said Carina.
“OK. Clearly there has been drinking, but that’s allowed. Music means there was some dancing, which is also perfectly reasonable at a festival. I won’t ask if any illicit substances were consumed, but please note – they would certainly be classed as mischievous.”
They were giggling much harder now.
“We did not do drugs” stated Karen. “Much as I wanted to, Carina said no.”
“Good girl, Carina” I said.
“So where did the mischief come in?” I probed. They looked at each other, silent in the communication.
“Not before more drinks!” stated Carina who went to the cupboard for wine glasses and then got a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge. She poured three healthy glasses and brought them to us.
“Ahem.” She stated, as though she was starting a public address. “Today, Karen showed her fanny to a nice looking man.” With this she dissolved into drunken laughter, whilst Karen sat there looking shocked, and very, very embarrassed.
“Carina, you cow!” hissed Karen. Which only brought forth more hysteria from Carina.
“Fanny displays are definitely right up there on the mischief scale” I advised Karen.
“Your wife’s hardly innocent, I can tell you!” Huffed Karen, and all of a sudden there was silence. I was intrigued.
“Carina – do you have some mischief you’d like to admit to?”
“Maybe” She said in a small voice.
“Out with it, Carina” Demanded Karen.
“I may have showed my boobs to the same man. And my knickers.” I was shocked, but more than a little turned on.
“Which ones are you wearing, Carina?” I asked.
She stood, unbuckled her shorts and opened them so I could see the blue gingham knickers which were always my favourites.
“Well, at least he got a look at pure quality” I reassured her. This surprised her, and Karen. And are we wearing the matching bra?” I asked, gently.
She lifted her lemon tee shirt to show me her matching bra. I nodded my approval.
“You don’t mind that your wife showed her tits to another man?” She asked, surprised.
I thought about that.
“Yes, it bothers me.” I answered honestly. “But at the same time, I get a kick of desire that I can’t describe. And anyway, Karen – you’re not in any position to be shocked by anything my wife may or may not have done – you showed this very lucky bloke the holy grail!” I stated.
Karen flushed, but had the good grace to smile and bob her head in acknowledgement that I was right.
“Let’s start from the beginning.” I said, pouring more wine for the naughty women. “I need to understand what led to such intimate body parts being bared.”
They burst out laughing, spluttering into their drinks. Karen began telling the story.
“Ok. There was maltepe escort a band playing, and they were good. It was a little bit trance, little bit rock, and the lead singer had amazing stage presence. We were quite a way back, on a small hill where we could see a the whole festival, but the big screens were amazing and we missed none of the action. We were both doing our thing – swaying back and forth, and there was a bloke sat in front of a tent by himself, and he was watching us more than the band. He was really good looking, maybe 25, and we noticed that there were two deck chairs at the tent, so clearly he was not at the festival alone.
After one of the songs finished, we went back and sat down at our blanket and made eye contact. We made polite small talk – turns out his girlfriend was over at another stage, and he was minding their stuff. Anyway, a few songs later, and he was watching us just as closely, and Carina decided that he watching a bit too closely. I hadn’t realised that all the dancing had meant my boobs were doing a fair bit of swaying, and Carina whispered that she thought he was being hypnotised.” As she spoke, Karen held her very impressive breasts and moved them to and fro, causing Carina and I to laugh out loud. She let them go and continued.
“Our little watcher eventually gave up trying to be subtle and was just staring at us dancing. Carina and I got right into it, and then a little into each other – purely for his benefit, of course, and then the band started this beat where the bass, the guitars, drums, the keyboards were all just doing this amazing pulse, and everyone down in front of us closer to the stage were putting their hands up and moving with the pulse, it was an amazing moment where the sound seemed to be working through the people. And that’s when Carina got carried away.”
I looked at Carina who made a face as if to say “my bad”. “Well, I was just really caught up in the music and the energy, and by this stage the poor bloke looked like he was about to pass out, or…”
“Come in his pants” Karen finished the sentence. Cue more giggles. “So Carina whispered in my ear “let’s give him something to really get him going” and I thought she was going to kiss me, which I was preparing myself for, when instead, she pulled us round so we were facing him, and she reached under my skirt, lifted it up, and pulled down the knickers to show our little voyeur my most private place!” She said, suddenly sounding prim and proper. “I nearly died, and if it wasn’t for being in such a trance, I would have stopped it sooner, but there I was, allowing a stranger to look straight between my legs.”
I looked at Carina – so, let’s get this straight – Karen didn’t show anything to the good looking young man – you showed Karen’s…er…charms…is that correct?”
Carina looked guilty. “Yes, and he was charmed because he sat there drooling at the sight of our dear friend’s well tended bush.”
“Carina!” shouted Karen.
“Sorry, but – you do have a very nice bush, and it appears to be very well kept.” stated Carina. “And then Karen wanted to get her own back, so she held me in place and lifted up my skirt, but I was quick enough to hold my knickers so they couldn’t be removed in any way. But then she reached up and before I knew it, my top was up and my boobs were out.”
I looked at Karen. “So Carina didn’t actually flash her boobs, you flashed them for her?”
Karen nodded. “And you flashed him a look at Carina’s knickers?” Another nod from Karen.
“You two did indeed get up to a lot of mischief, didn’t you?” I asked. They both looked embarrassed but bright eyed and there was a definite edge in the room. Alcohol or lust? I thought to myself. Just then the doorbell rang, and it was Karen’s cab. The mood was broken as she scurried around getting her things, apologising for leaving so suddenly – she had totally forgotten she had even ordered the cab. She kissed Carina fully on the lips, which startled me a little, then did the same to me, taking her time. “Carina, tell him the rest of the story, then you two go to bed and relive our naughtiness!” she said over her shoulder as she walked out the door.
There was silence in the room.
“Did it end there?” I asked. Carina looked at me other nervously. “Not quite.” she whispered.
“Come on, out with it.” I demanded.
Carina was finding interesting things to look at on the floor rather than meet my eyes, but as she began to speak she looked up and met my gaze, and in her eyes I could see fire.”
“Well, after our little show, he clapped us, and we curtsied, which made him clap more. He invited us to sit with him and have a drink, which we did. As we were sitting there facing each other, he asked if he could have one more look at us.
We edged back into the little tent, so it wouldn’t be quite so obvious to anyone what was going on. They probably thought we were going to smoke a spliff or something. We arranged ourselves again, and – I’ll never pendik escort bayan forget this – Karen lifted her skirt and pulled the knickers aside, giving him a close up view of all she had to offer. And then the guy reached over, palm upwards, and ran a finger over her … you know… God, how do I put it with any sense of decency?”
Carina seemed to give up the fight. With steel in her voice she said “Oh for fuck’s sake, there, at a festival, in broad daylight, this stranger put his fingers inside my best friend’s cunt, and it was the biggest turn on imaginable.”
She was trembling, and it wasn’t with fear.
“He used his fingers on her, and she was obviously very turned on, because she came very quickly and very audibly. Thank god for the loud music from the band.”
“What happened next?” I asked breathily.
“Um. Karen slumped forward, and in her afterglow, she pulled the guy’s cock out of his shorts and started sucking him. Just like that. And like her, he was in a state of readiness because he spurted come in her mouth, on her face and in her hair. It was like a porn scene, but super-charged.”
“And you just watched?” I asked. She nodded.
“Watched and fingered myself to two unbelievable orgasms.” She admitted, shyly.
She looked at me, then looked away, her brow knitting as a thought took hold.
“I should probably feel guilty, James – but I don’t, not one bit. I feel energised. I loved feeling like a sexual being – not a wife, not a mother who has monthly sex, but a sexual being in need of sexual release.”
“Do you wish you had been more involved?” I asked?
“No, not at all. I got all the benefits of being involved, but without the need to use anyone else’s body or energy to experience sheer joy. Can you understand that?”
She looked at me beseechingly.
“James – we are good together. We are good parents, we are good citizens of the world, but I think we need to be more than that. We need to fuck and be fucked and do things that keep us alive.”
My wife had found the courage to say what I had felt for some time, and I loved her for it. It was my turn to be brave. I got up and left the room, returning and sitting down with Carina.
“It turns out today was a day for firsts.” I started. Carina looked at me with confusion in her eyes. I reached into my pocket and pulled out Leila’s knickers, and held them in my fingers between us.
“These belong to a girl I met on the train today.” I said. “She wrote you a little note.” With that I pulled Leila’s note out of my pocket and gave it to Carina. As she put her glasses on, unfolded the note and began to read, I poured the last of the wine into our glasses, and waited for her reaction.
“Oh my God, James.” She whispered. “You actually put your cock inside another woman.” She looked at me and I could not for the life of me read her thoughts. “Did you come inside her?”
I nodded. She reached over and tentatively took the knickers from my hand. She looked at them, bunched and in a state of disrepair, but they were still redolent with scent of Leila.
Carina suddenly reached out and pulled my straining cock out of my shorts, and wrapped Leila’s knickers around my girth, before working me to the point of orgasm. I exploded into the soiled, yellow knickers, which now had the intimate fluids of two people on them. As the shockwaves diminished Carina quickly removed her own knickers, and the moisture told a tale of a woman who was highly, highly aroused.
I dropped to my knees, pushed Carina back and buried my tongue in her swollen, dripping cunt, bringing her to an immediate orgasm, causing her to cry out, to clutch at my head and to ride wave after wave of ecstasy. Carina used her fingers on herself, prolonging the sensations, occasionally dipping her fingers into her molten centre, shuddering with pleasure.
“Take my knickers and mop me up, please James.”
I did as I was asked. I dabbed at her entrance, I dried up my saliva and her juices.
“Some ran down a bit, get that, too.” She whispered.
I reached down and followed the valley to her bottom, using the fabric of the now sodden knickers to dap between her bottom cheeks, at her perineum and of course her neat, sensitive anus. I paid due attention to this part of her anatomy. Carina was sighing with each sensation.
That night in bed, we fucked without speaking, and it was glorious, there felt like we had reached a new understanding, a new level in our relationship. In the morning, I woke to Carina sucking me, then doing something she’s never done – climbing on top of me, riding me, rubbing her clit furiously and staring into my eyes. “I have never felt so turned on, James – I’m liking this new chapter, I want to experience everything there is to experience.”
I nodded as I felt myself building to orgasm. We exploded at the same time, and she lay down on me, breasts squashed against my chest, our breath joined.
“And just so you know – it’s my turn to be fucked by someone else. It will happen, make no mistake – and I will tell you. And – I’m not sure what this has opened up inside of me. I don’t know where this will take me, or us. But from now on, I am a sexual being, and sex may no longer mean just you.”
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