My marriage wasn’t over, but it was only a matter of time. My husband, a doctor, was quite a bit older than me. At the time we were married, I was quietly thrilled at the scandal that it had caused in our small town. But as time passed, we drifted apart, and our sex life was quite simply nonexistent.

At age forty-four, I had no time to waste. So I resolved not the let what was left of my marriage get in the way of my long-delayed sexual satisfaction.

I had been on some rather strong pharmaceuticals, the side effects which suppressed my sexual desire. When I finally resolved to take back control of my life and come off them, my desire came raging back with a vengeance. My libido had forced itself to the top of my priority list; I was constantly horny.

Shane was married too. He was living in Europe at the time, and I was in Virginia, so not exactly an obvious choice in terms of optimal sexual partners.

But he was my first at age sixteen and the past is, of course, prologue.

But first, some background…for almost two decades, Shane and I had played an elaborate game, remaining just out of each other’s reach, then periodically indulging the lust that we felt for each other, then going back to the status quo ante, flirting from a distance, all the while enjoying the delicious anticipation of the next passionate encounter. So there was a method to my madness. I’m a carnal person. I just love sex. But sex with him was an altogether different thing. The intensity was quite literally breathtaking.

If the truth be told, I had always fantasized about starting a family with him. Having his babies seemed an entirely natural extension of my feelings for him. Unfortunately, that was not to be. He had a successful career as a military officer and his deployments took him far, far away. And now he worked in the private sector in Europe.

My husband was out of town, so Shane quickly arranged a business trip. He suggested that we meet at a very chic Washington, DC hotel. So very Continental. So very French.

I was delayed in bad traffic. And frazzled. I saw him seated across the room as soon as I entered the bar. The cool air in the hotel bar was a welcome change from the sweltering Washington heat. It nevertheless had the unintended consequence of making my naturally prominent nipples even more erect than usual. It was not lost on Shane. His gaze alternated between my breasts and my thighs as I approached his table.

I’ll never know what it was about him, but he has always really known how to push my buttons. It was as if he had the unique ability to hard wire the zone in my brain responsible for my sexual arousal directly to my breasts and my pussy. By the time I sat down, I was already unconsciously panting with desire, my ample breasts heaved, and my distended nipples strained against the blue fabric of my short, tight-fitting dress. Not wearing any bra or panties now didn’t seem like such a great idea. As I shifted in my seat, I could feel that my pussy was already slippery with the juices of my arousal. Despite my best efforts, I was already starting to lose control.

We made small talk, the usual stuff. It was all just a little bit awkward...there were so many intertwined emotions: deep affection, nostalgia, and of course blind naked animal lust.

I ordered a vodka martini, gulped it down, and ordered another. I had to get a hold of myself, or I was going to screw up my seduction. I excused myself to go to the ladies' room. In the ladies' room, I peed and then reached my hand down between my legs to wipe. My pussy was a gooey, swollen mess. I made a vain attempt at cleaning myself up, trying to mop up the excess that had begun to soak through my dress with a tissue. I was so drunk and horny by that point, I really didn’t care. I had only one thing on my mind - getting that man’s gorgeous cock into my aching cunt. Based on his body language at the table, that wasn’t going to be too hard.

At one point in the conversation, he leaned over and whispered in my ear. “We both know how this evening is going to end, don’t we?” I nodded meekly, loving the way that he was taking control of the situation.

“Then let’s not waste this precious time.”

We quickly finished our drinks and headed for the door and into the sultry Summer evening air.

Why we met at that particular hotel, I had no idea. He was actually staying at another equally upscale property nearby. Whether he was playing hard to get or just reluctant to fully commit, if he thought that he was going to be coy and deny me the fucking that I so craved and so deserved, he was sadly mistaken. I wasn’t wrong. He had taken a taxi, so he drove my car from the hotel where we had the drinks to his hotel. My charms obviously still had a powerful effect on him, and it quietly thrilled me. We had barely entered his hotel room when he took me in his arms, kissing me urgently, forcefully. I felt his hand on the hem of my dress lifting it up over my ass, exposing my cheeks. His hands groped my ass, working gradually to the swamp between my legs. My head was spinning with the effects of the martinis and desire.

My seduction, if you could call it that, was going perfectly according to plan. And why would it not? I had thought of everything. I would soon be thrashing and moaning in ecstasy as he plowed my pussy, my ankles locked behind his head. I had practiced ballet for years and retained an astonishing degree of flexibility. The one thing I hadn’t considered was birth control - I was a young forty-four and still far from menopause. And although I was past my prime breeding years, I was still fertile and, to make matters worse, I was ovulating. I felt like a total dumbass…but soon recognised that it was just my primal subconscious taking over. My body had chosen a mate, and I was powerless to do anything about it. So I surrendered to it.

I kicked off my shoes, and he unzipped my dress, and it fell to the floor around my ankles. He laid me unceremoniously on the bed in my semi-drunken state. I scooted back and spread my legs wide, exposing my soggy, swollen pussy. As if I needed to give him any additional encouragement or sign that I was his and that I was ready to be fucked. Foreplay? We were way past that point. I have always loved for him to go down on me and have experienced some of the best orgasms that I have ever had from his expert skill at cunnilingus.

But tonight was about fucking. Nothing more, nothing less. He quickly stripped and crawled onto the bed; his cock was so hard I could see it gently throbbing as he stood at the end of the bed. He positioned himself between my legs in the missionary position. I could feel his bloated cock head probing, searching for my entrance, and I was desperate to have it inside me.

I had given birth to two boys, so my birth canal was far from the tight, nubile teenager one whose virginity he had taken from me so many years ago. Shane often told me that my pussy was a perfect fit for his better-than-average-sized cock. We could fuck for hours without my pussy putting him over the edge. We were literally made for each other sexually. He found my entrance and inserted just the bulbous head of his engorged sex while rotating his hips and kissing me deeply, teasing me. But I was far too aroused to wait. My legs flailed and kicked themselves around him, my heels and calves against his buttocks, pulling him down to me, trying to drive his cock deeper into me. He got the hint and buried himself in me up to the hilt, then began to drive into me with deep purposeful strokes.

I was in sensory overload. I closed my eyes. The illicit nature of the act, the obscene fuck noises of our bodies slapping together, the audible squishing sound of the product of my extreme arousal, our combined panting and moaning was like an aphrodisiac. 

It seemed to go on forever. Over and over, he hammered his hips down, and I returned each fierce thrust with one of my own, fucking him back. My cries of passion became incoherent babbling as I spasmed again and again under him, and wave after wave of pleasure flashed through me.

"I have so needed this,” I unconsciously cried out as I surrendered to naked lust. My pussy was spasming and contracting around his cock as orgasm after orgasm washed over me in succession. My head snapped back against the mattress. I dug my heels into the bed and drove my hips forward forcefully, impaling myself on his maleness. My hands pawed at his ass checks, my nails digging into his skin. I came so hard that my brain forgot to breathe, and I almost passed out.

I felt his pace increase and his ass cheeks begin to clench and flex with increased urgency. This was the moment of truth - risk him impregnating me, or take the prudent path and make him pull out.

“I’m going to come deep in your married pussy”, he growled.

My primal brain made the decision for me.  "Come inside me!”  I cried as I realized that he was preparing to release.  "Yes!" I hissed. "Come in my pussy! Come in my cunt!"

He grabbed my legs and threw them over his shoulders, pulling my buttocks high off the bed. My pussy was now vertical with my womb directly below it. He hammered his cock straight down, violently stabbing deeper and deeper, again and again. I could feel the head of his cock mashing against my cervix each time he bottomed out. He let out an extended groan. Despite the relative looseness of my mommy pussy, I could feel his cock jerk and throb and the soft splash of his sperm against my cervix. The thought of flirting this closely with pregnancy with a man who was not my husband was enough to send me over the edge again.

I felt an animal groan emanate from the depths of my diaphragm. My pussy walls clamped down on his flesh deep inside me, my contractions milking him. The lips of my labia danced and fluttered on the base of his stalk, both evolutionary features of my womanly body designed to draw his potent sperm deeper into me and over which I had no control. My greedy womb was eagerly swallowing the copious load of sperm that Shane had deposited at the entrance to my cervix. My pussy was clearly doing the job which nature had intended her to perform, gathering up Shane’s impregnating seed that had been deposited there and funnelling it into my womb and toward the egg waiting there. For the first time in many years, pregnancy became a very real possibility. The thought gave me a brief frisson of pleasure and excitement.

He collapsed on top of me, pinning me to the bed. We lay motionless for several minutes catching our breath.

As he dismounted, his cock slipped out of me with a discernable liquid pop. As I came down from my orgasm, my swollen sex was hypersensitive and still twitching randomly. After years of neglect, my pussy had quite clearly taken total control, and I was still in a heightened state of arousal. I reached my hand down between my legs to assess the situation. The lips of my pussy were gaping and distended from the relentless pounding that I had taken. She was swollen with my arousal. My pubic hair was a matted mess of sperm and pussy juice. I could not resist reaching down to draw my index finger the length of my along my slit.

We lay together in silence for a few moments, each one waiting for the other to speak.

“You reached into my soul that time, Margot. That’s never happened to me, honestly,” he said.

I was proud that I obviously had the same effect on him that he had on me. After a while, I could feel his cock begin to stir and twitch, hardening again. “That’s my man,” I thought to myself. I wasn’t done with him, and the feeling was clearly mutual. He pulled me onto my side, raised one leg to my chest, and unceremoniously mounted me again in one thrust. He was taking me again, and I was loving his rough technique.

He bent down, and his lips went to my breasts, gently nibbling each nipple with his teeth. This sent me into overdrive. The first time that we had gotten together after respective marriages, I had just given birth to my second child and was still lactating. I had tried to conceal it, believing that it would be a turn-off for him. On that evening, the lovemaking as usual went on for hours. He knew that I loved to have my nipples sucked and gently bitten, and he was more than happy to indulge this pleasure. He was more than a bit surprised when his carnal ministrations resulted in a mouthful of my milk. Far from being a turn-off, he fucked three times that night.

Tonight, his slick cock slid up and down through my foaming pussy, and his heavy balls slapped wetly against my ass. He threw my leg across his body and placed me back in the missionary position with my ankles over his shoulders. He grabbed my hips and yanked me up into his cock; our pubic bones mashed against each other. He scissored in and out of my cum-soaked sheath, the base of his slick shaft grinding against my clit. My hand reached down to cup and caress his balls.

After about twenty minutes of relentless pounding, the pace of his thrusts quickened. He slammed himself down into my thrusting pussy as his cock grew fat in my churning chasm. “I love you, Margot,” he whispered in my ear. "I always have. And I always will.”

Then his thrusts stopped and he went strangely still and silent. The only things that I could feel or hear were his heartbeat and the lurching contractions of his cock as it spat stream after virile stream of sperm against the entrance to my cervix. My pussy became the center of my being, and I involuntarily snapped off another mind-blowing orgasm. My pussy walls contracted strongly as they sucked his semen into my unprotected womb. I had lost control of my speech, only capable of incoherent grunts and moans, my legs flailed against his shoulders, and my hands grabbed his ass in an effort to pull him even deeper into me. I was a physical and emotional wreck. The sincerity of his declaration of love forced me to collapse into wracking sobs. I loved him, too. And I always had. The pangs of regret of having not seen it and acted on it sooner were almost too much to bear.

As I recovered my composure, we lay in each other’s arms for a long time saying nothing. Then, emotional exhaustion overcame us both and we fell asleep.

I awoke early to avoid the DC traffic. My head was still foggy from the martinis. The sheet beneath me was a mess, sodden with a mixture of the product of our lovemaking. The room still smelled strongly and deliciously of sex. He was sleeping soundly.

I peeled myself off the sheets, got up, and pulled my cum-stained dress back on. I picked up my shoes and handbag and silently left. With no panties on, Shane’s cum streamed out of my by now very sore and well-used pussy and dribbled down my leg. It cascaded past one ankle and onto my foot, and I left little cum footprints on the cool ceramic floor of the lobby as I sauntered through. I must have been a sight to see. Fortunately, no one was around at 4 AM.

On my way home, I could not resist stopping at a rest stop to give myself another intense orgasm with my legs spread and both feet planted on the dashboard of my car and using Shane’s cum as the ultimate sexual lubricant. I could not get enough of this man.

As it was, I did fall pregnant from that night - how could I not have - but miscarried almost immediately. My emotions alternated between the consequences of my actions and the predicament in which I found myself, and my love for Shane and a desire to find a way to have a life with him. Unfortunately, that was not to be. We still see each other occasionally. And there have been other marvellous nights of passion. But few would come close to equalling that glorious summer night in Washington, D.C.