I’m writing this story for a variety of reasons, reasons only important to myself. Tomorrow I will be forty years old. My story, however, begins nine years ago when I was thirty one.
My name is Jessica. I’ve been married for nine years to a wonderful, caring man I met in college. We have two lovely children, a boy six and a daughter eight. My 31st birthday was yesterday, and as usual my husband treated me to a night of dinner and dancing. He so enjoys doing for me that my pleasures are as equally pleasurable for him.
We want for nothing really, nothing material that is. That’s not to say we’re filthy rich, we don’t have yachts and jets, but we live extremely comfortable in a clean, safe upscale neighborhood.
When I was a child my mother religiously made an entry in her daily diary. She always told me her personal history was important to her and she found real satisfaction in reading, and recalling, what her days and weeks were like ten years prior.
I guess I’m my mother’s daughter because I’ve been keeping a diary since I was ten years old. This is really where my story begins, with my diary.
Occasionally I enter thoughts that some people probably would think are best left unsaid. My husband knew I valued my privacy and, as far as I knew, he never violated that trust by taking a peek at my innermost thoughts.
To this day I don’t know if I left the diary out in the open purposely, subconsciously hoping he would read it, or I simply forgot to put it away.
Even after he read a few pages, it took him weeks to tell me. The entry he read so upset him he couldn’t keep it to himself. He postponed telling me until it really began to eat him up inside.
The entry read: “There are moments, like today, that a sluttishness wells up inside me. A time when I want to know what it would feel like to be fulfilled sexually. To have my womb tickled by the head of a huge cock, my imaginary G-spot probed, my total cunt cavity filled to capacity.”
That was the entry in my diary. You can see how this would certainly concern a husband who thought everything was all right in his marriage. And they were all right as far as I was concerned. Only when these occasional longings arose did I question my happiness. But everyone has their own therapy in life. Mine was to masturbate once, twice or several times till this feeling went away.
But this entry in my diary, to say the least, was a direct insult to my husband’s manhood. I can only imagine the agony this entry caused him. When he finally gathered the courage to confront me I could see the pain and hurt in his eyes. Only briefly did I entertain the thought of attacking him for invading my privacy. And I mean briefly, because my heart broke for him as he stood before me, almost like a beaten man.
My husband, John, is a gentle man, a man with a big heart, a devoted husband and father and a love for me without doubt. I loved him with all my heart but was now put in a position to prove that love all over again. Not because I had done anything wrong but because, or so I thought, I had a character flaw.
We put the children to bed that night and met back in the kitchen. I knew we were going to have a long, drawn out discussion.
I should interject here that our sex life had always been adequate for me. John has what most men and women consider a normal cock, about six inches in length. I rarely had an orgasm when we had intercourse, but being the considerate man John was, we always had a lot of foreplay. He also loved servicing me orally and I almost always had an orgasm from his superb tongue, He always liked to hug and caress me after intercourse which usually ended with me falling asleep, totally content.
It took most of the night to finally convince John of my love for him and my happiness in the marriage. He wanted to know if all women had thoughts like this. I didn’t know and told him so. It just wasn’t something my female friends would consider talking about. He pointed out that men talk about sex a lot, usually lying about the conquests they’ve made.
I asked him, point blank, do men ever talk about their wives amongst themselves. He said mostly they talk about the wives of other men. I didn’t understand. He said, for instance, almost everyday some one would joke with him about his sexy wife, (me) and how the hell did he ever manage to get her.
I jokingly told him to please let his friends know I appreciated their complimentary remarks.
I thought that was the end of our problem, that our all night discussion layed it to rest. We even made love that morning before John went to work. He appeared to have his manhood back, intact, and a spring in his step when he left for work.
One month later John came home from work with a big surprise. Two airline tickets, first class, and reservations at the biggest hotel in Vegas. I was totally thrilled. He knew how I loved Vegas. We hadn’t been there since our daughter turned three because we didn’t feel that was a place to take children on vacation. But this was to be just the two of us. He had made arrangements with his mother to keep the kids and we were going alone too dance, dine and gamble. He knew how I loved playing the slot machines.
The day arrived, we landed in Vegas, a limo waiting to take us to the hotel. And the two room suite was fabulous. Everything was perfect.
Our first night we took in a show, dined till we were absolutely stuffed, and I pulled on slot machines till my arms ached. It was great.
The next day we slept, lounged around the pool and just did nothing. Very lazy.
About 8pm that night John decided we should go dancing. He loved to dance. I put on my most alluring dress, something to show all my assets and off to the dance floors we went.
During a band break John said he spotted someone he met earlier in the day. He excused himself and went to the bar to talk to him. In a few minutes he was back, the young man in tow. He introduced him to me as Peter, a dealer at one of the hotels.
When the band began playing again John insisted I dance with Peter. Peter was taller than John, like six foot two, broad shoulders, small waist and a butt to die for. Extremely handsome man.
As we danced he complimented me on my dress but I wasn’t born yesterday, his eyes were all over my body. As we danced it seemed like he deliberately pressed his manhood against my leg. The touch wasn’t lost on me. I could feel that he was not normal, huge might be the word to describe it. And I actually felt it grow!! I felt a rush of excitement, and embarrassment, as we ground against each other disgustingly.
When we arrived back at the table John said he had a headache and was going back to the room. As I stood to leave with him John began insisting I stay with Peter and a have good time dancing.
This was so uncharacteristic of John I asked Peter to excuse us for a minute and took John aside. I wanted to know what he was doing, leaving me with a total stranger.
He explained to me he had met Peter on the Internet and this was his gift of love. I didn’t immediately understand. He reminded me of my diary and this was his way of letting me live out my fantasy.
I tried to explain to him that I couldn’t do something like this, go off with a complete stranger and have sex. He was insistent. He pushed me back towards the table and then he was gone. I couldn’t believe it. What man would do this for his wife, or for that matter, to his wife?
I was extremely uncomfortable as I sat back down next to Peter. It was awkward to say the least.
After a few drinks and several dances later I had loosened up considerably. I could feel a knot developing in my stomach in anticipation of what might happen before the night was over.
The time of reckoning arrived, he asked me to his room for a nightcap. My voice was barely audible as I accepted.
He had a small room, a single with a queen size bed, and the only comfortable place to sit was on its edge.
As we sipped our drink he began nibbling my ear, licking inside, quickly turning me into jelly.
He stood in front of me, his belt buckle staring me in the eye. I quickly undid it, zipped down his pants and let them fall to the floor.
There it was, staring me in the eye. a freak of nature. An appendage so large it took my breath away. His briefs didn’t cover half of it and it wasn’t even hard yet. My god what a cock was all I could think. I pulled it out of his briefs holding the head up to my lips. My tongue flicked out, touching it, tasting it, like a new sucker to a 3 year old.
I could barely get it in my mouth, my jaw muscles ached trying to hold my lips open around it. As I slowly sucked the first two or three inches it began to grow in size. I thought the corners of my mouth would split. I removed it quickly, not wanting it to harm me. So I licked it, the full length, so huge, I could not get my fingers around it.
I looked up at his face, his cold blue penetrating eyes. I blubbered something about I thought it was too large, that I didn’t think any woman could take a cock this huge. He smiled. He knew my protest was weak, that there was no way I was leaving without trying. And he was so right, so very, very right.
I stood, turned, he unzipped me out of my dress. He forced me down on the bed, his body and arms so strong I felt totally submissive. He lay down next to me, kissing my cheeks and stroking my bare tits. I whimpered like a school girl.
He leaned over to the night stand and retrieved a bottle of lubricant. He handed it to me and, without a word, I began smearing it over his huge cock. I was in such awe.. .never had I seen such huge manhood. My only point of reference was John, and believe me, there was absolutely no comparison.
He wasted no time in straddling my body and I instinctively grasped his member and placed the head against my pussy lips. I was having misgivings again, I really thought there was no way this could ever happen.
He pushed slowly, the head stretching me to new dimensions, so wide I thought I would split. The pain… it was a good pain, a pain I could stand as I spread my legs even more for maximum room. Two inches, three inches, four. My hips thrust upwards, five, six, counting no longer seemed to matter.
He was so strong, thrusting his huge cock into me, I felt absolutely primitive, sucking this huge piece of meat up into my very core. I knew the orgasm building in me would make me forget all other orgasms I had ever had. This was going to be the big one, the one I fantasized about so many times.
And then it happened. I felt myself losing it, I had no control of my body. I convulsed, screamed, whimpered and cried as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. I never knew such bliss.
Peter’s thrusting hips never lost stride. He continued to fuck me, and fuck me, and fuck me. I lost count… stop counting as I came and came and came.
He finally stopped, continued laying on top of me, his prick still buried deep into my womb. His staying power was incredulous. I was so tired, I closed my eyes and for a minute I fell asleep.
I was awakened by Peter’s continuing, thrusting tempo and my own hips meeting his, slamming that huge member in and out of me. We were at it again. I knew my pussy lips were raw from this continuous fuck fest. How quick, I couldn’t believe it, I was cumming again. Just when I thought I would beg him to stop another wave of that delicious feeling would sweep over me.
My hands were clasping his taut ass cheeks and, for the first time, I felt their clenching muscles begin to flinch. He was going to cum in me. I wanted it. I felt his cock throbbing inside me as he filled me with his hot, shooting jism. The insides of my stomach warmed, like being filled from a hose.
I was so extremely tired, forcing myself to stay awake. Peter rolled off of me and went into the bathroom. By the time he returned I was dressed. He didn’t understand and showed his displeasure. He had planned on resting a while and continue our fucking spree.
I apologized profusely, trying to make him understand that this was the best sex I had ever had in my life. But I also had a husband that allowed me this experience and didn’t want him to worry.
As I walked down the hall to the hotel elevator my legs were wobbly, my entire body felt as weak as a kitten.
When I arrived back at our suite John was watching television. It was 5 am in the morning. I knew he wouldn’t be sleeping.
His eyes were searching for any difference in me as he followed me around the suite. His curiosity got the better of him and he began pummelling me with questions. I was so tired I wanted to wait till later, I wanted to think about my answers, not be tripped up and say something that might hurt him.
I undressed quickly and crawled into bed. John lay down next to me, still grilling me about my night. I kissed him on the cheek, told him I appreciated his gesture in allowing me to fulfill my fantasy, but I had to sleep. I was dead tired. As I turned, buried my head in the soft pillow, I felt Peter’s cum juice leaking from my pussy…running down my leg.
– to be continued –