While Helen was gone, I went to have a piss and quick wash. She came back with two mugs, placed them on the bedside tables and skipped into bed. She told me to behave and not to spill anything on ‘our’ bed. Helen was in high spirits, bubbling over in merriment and excitement. There was no sign of regret or guilt for having broken her marriage-vow on the marital bed. There was no evasion, no search for excuses.

Sitting in bed, sipping our coffee, she told me how happy she was that the ‘Panther’ was out of the cage and that it/she had found me to sate her appetite for, in her words - “Beautiful, dirty sex!” Helen openly relished talking about our love-making, savouring each newfound or long-avoided word.

We sat close to each other, and Helen had placed one of her legs over mine. She meant to invite me to stroke up and down the inside of her thigh while she talked. Whenever my fingers neared her pussy, Helen captured them against its enticing, almost steamy warmth by closing her thighs. When we lay down again and embraced, and Helen felt my growing erection, she chuckled, “Ben! What’s wrong with you?”

I kissed her with a suggestion of tongue and asked, “What do you mean by ‘wrong’? Are you disgusted with me and my horny cock?”

She made me wait for her answer, “I’ve never, not even when I was young, been with a man that did or wanted to fuck me more often than once at a time.” Not wanting to let it rest, Helen continued, “What is it with you? How can you do it, again and again? Are you a sex athlete or just hungry, starved for sex like I am?”

Helen had managed to return to the query and my avoided answer from earlier in the shower. She wanted to know about my sex life and marriage. I thought it best to answer truthfully.

So, I told her, firstly, that I believed that a limp or quickly wilting dick was with men rarely due to impotence. With men being romantics, it was an absence or waning of desire. Their brain tells their cocks that sex – or more sex - with a particular woman was not worth having; that neither he nor – equally as often – she had wanted this fuck in the first place.

By saying this, I let Helen know that my, to her, so surprising state of repeated arousal was due to the sexual magic between us. I responded to her desire, her wanting to fuck, again and again! And she, Helen, was for me simply irresistible and magically sexy.

Regarding her second query, I simply said that I was not starved for sex in my marriage.

It took Helen a while to come up with her question. Gnawing on her lower lip, she cuddled up close. In a low voice, she asked, “When was the last time you and Erika made love?”

Helen had met my wife and remembered her name. I had to smile at her hesitancy. I told her that Erika and I made love last night.

“And was it good?” Helen asked. She had lowered her eyes, avoided the dirty words, and now blushed.

I decided there was no need for me to hide the truth. So, I told Helen that last night’s love-making with Erika was lengthy and intense. It was, for both of us, the most enjoyable sex we had had in a while.

I hesitated for a moment: “It was due to you, Helen. My sexual excitement had built up over the week because I knew that we would meet today. And you had promised me, there in the car, wild, glorious sex!”

I continued by telling Helen that Erika, as a sexually alive woman, quickly responded to my state of arousal. It did not occur to her that there was something amiss in me being turned on. We had met as illicit lovers, and sex had always been for us, perhaps, our strongest bond. Erika knew she was beautiful and sexy, and that we could always turn each other on.

I paused, not knowing whether I should continue. But then I added, “While it started with me so horny thinking about you, Helen, what followed was not a betrayal. Erika and I made love in total involvement with each other. You were no longer on my mind. And we fucked in a way that we had neglected for quite a while!”

Helen listened silently. She gave no sign of shock or distress. Not only had she not drawn away from me, but her hand had stolen onto my dormant cock. Eventually, she said, her voice free of reproach, “You and Erika are lucky in what you still want from each other after ten years of marriage. I envy you. The last time Jurgen and I made love was twenty-seven days ago in the morning. It lasted, perhaps, three minutes. Then he rushed into the bathroom. I made breakfast, after which Jurgen left for work.”

I knew there was more to tell, but it would have to wait. Helen, her body and hand, gave every indication that far from dampening her appetite, the story of my marital fuck had raised it anew. She drew me into long, succulent kissing. Before long, her hand had persuaded my cock to kiss her nether lips open too.

As Helen teased her pussy while strangling my cock, my story raised Helen’s curiosity and appetite for a different offering more and more, “Ben, are we going to make love as you did with Erika? Are you going to tell me what you did? Or better yet, show me that special way too?”

I replied that we would discover our unique ways of pleasuring each other.

“Just like you thrill and excite me now,” I whispered in Helen’s ear, “by the way you so sexily, stealthily, lure my cock, centimetre by hot centimetre, into your pussy.”

As she did so, I kissed her, my tongue replicating the slinky invasion below. My lips stayed on hers, and my tongue wrestled with hers while we fucked. I drunk Helen’s gasping breath, her whimpers, her laughter and more and more, her cries of lust demanding more. My fingers dug into her buttocks as my cock thrust deep. Then I stopped, held still, waited for our excitement to subside.

Eventually, between kisses, I breathed into her mouth the question, “Do you want me to kiss and eat your hot-fucked pussy as well? Right now?”

Helen immediately moaned, “Yes.” 

So, I asked, “Are you sure? Do you want to find out what my hungry mouth can do to a just fucked, tender pussy?”

Again, a lust-strangled, “Yes.” Then, to show Helen what I would do to her, I started to bite and suck her lips before sinking my ruthlessly demanding tongue into and around her mouth. When I finished this long, absolute possession taking kiss, Helen’s lips were glistening and love-swollen. I asked, “Do you want your pussy eaten like that? The way Erika loves it?”

“Yes! Yes, Ben! Take my pussy, eat me up!  God, show me how much you love my so tender, fucked pussy!”

Helen’s voice had pitched high with excitement. When I moved down, her legs jerked unaided high and spread wide to present me with her glistening, quivering pussy. And I could only marvel at the beauty of Helen’s lusciously dishy sex.

I had only once before, merely in teasing foreplay, drawn my tongue through the slit of Helen’s plump pussy. It was enough for me to discovered that I loved its smell and clean tangy taste. And now Helen had left no doubt about how eager she was to be pleasured and eaten up by my unrestrained mouth.

Now the circle was closed: I had asked, she wanted, she demanded. As I sank my face into Helen’s shivering crotch, her pelvis lifted in welcome. With a breathless, “Yes!” she rubbed her pussy against my lips, and her fingers began their excited clawing in my hair. Helen’s hands and the pitches in the music of her moans, whimpers, and pleadings guided me in exploring the lusciousness of her cunt. I suckled and bit her pussy’s succulent folds and drew my tongue, time and time again, through the hot-tasty wetness up and over her still enfolded clit.

After minutes of my pussy worship, I lifted my head. Helen looked down on me, her face beautifully young, flushed with joy, eyes shining, lips moist and half-open. She was drunk with pleasure. I took her hands, drawing them down on her pubes. “Now show me, offer up your sexy clit. It’s hiding and wants kissing. Show me, give me your clit!”

Helen cried out a laugh and did! Her fingers parted the hair of her bush and then the fleshy petal to press her clit’s pearly cap into view. After my mouth closed over it and my tongue began its tantalising play between her offering fingers, we all too quickly had to stop. Helen’s shivering thighs, shaking hands, and her gasping moans warned me how close she was again to the brink of coming. I stopped to slide up and fold her into my arms.

We needed, it seemed, minutes to catch our breath and to retreat from the threatening surrender of what would have been, in the game we had started, a too early ending. When we had calmed, I resumed the missionary position. However, our kissing and the words we found as my cock slid in and out of Helen’s hot, now quivering, kissed-open pussy, would not have found missionary approval.

As we fucked, slowly, sensually teasing out the first wavelets of pleasure, I asked her how much she liked the changing over from cock to the tongue and back again. Did she like to be shown in kissing what I planned to do with her cunt, and did she want to show me, in the same way, how she wanted to be eaten up?

When I kissed her again, Helen met my mouth with a deep, throaty groan. She showed me how quickly she was learning and how much she loved the lesson.

I pulled momentarily away from her demanding-all kiss to tell her not to make up her mind too quickly. I told her how much I wanted her, how sexy, beautiful, tasty, and ravishingly fuckable she was and, if it were for me, I’d like to take her through change after change in our game of cock and tongue. I could not get enough of her sexy tits, her hungry mouth, her enticing ass, her hot words, the lust in her voice, and the smell and taste of her luscious cunt. But I wanted her to choose the what and when of changes and, finally, how and when she would dive into one of her wonderful climaxes.

“Tell me how you want to come? You know now what my tongue does to your pussy? It brought you close, so close to coming again. You almost didn’t wait for the cocks turn or the fingers.”

I did not expect an answer. I had relieved Helen of my missionary weight and shifted into a side-on position. Helen offered herself, body stretched out, her boobs and button-nipples waiting to be gripped and caressed, her belly heaving, and her sex voluptuously offered to be looked at, fingered and fucked. Head thrown back, she laughed in joy and abandonment as my hands groped her breasts, and I fucked her for long, lust-filled minutes with deep, ever-quickening thrusts. But then, not wanting to come, I withdrew.

Moving back from Helen’s body, I cradled her face, stifling her protests about my sudden withdrawal with a kiss. Reaching down, I started a lengthy play with her cunt. I penetrated and explored its slippery tightness first with one, then with two deep probing fingers. But finally, it was three fingers that spread and explored the cunt’s increasingly wet-hot depth. Helen’s pelvis heaved and ground against their intrusion while her wild tongue wrestled mine in my mouth. When Helen finally jerked away from my hand, she threw herself back. As she grabbed her thighs to pull her legs up to her shoulders, she cried out her demand. “Fuck me now! God fuck me, Ben! I want to come! Now! On your cock!”

I reached for her legs to place them on my shoulders, then gripped her buttocks and rammed my cock deep into her. It started an almost brutal, unrestrained possession-taking fuck. For its drawn-out minutes, I became a stranger, fucking Helen in a way I rarely fuck. As I rammed into her contorting body, bathed in sweat, my roar matched her shrieks. We were in a hitherto avoided realm of blind-raging lust! It became for me an experience that was out of character, beyond knowing and deliberation, beyond any explanation.

But Helen was in unison with me; she not only followed but led. When the orgasmic storm roared in, we were sucked into a whirlpool and the terror of being lost to drown. When the shock, the screams and convulsions finally abated, we collapsed into each other spent. I think we passed out or even fell asleep.

When Helen eventually disentangled her body from our sweaty embrace, she stroked with a loving gesture over my hair and said, “Not that I want to, but we better stop. We need a shower and get dressed to go to our other lesson, Herr Professor.”