“Do you feel different now?” I whispered into Libby’s strawberry-blonde hair.

We were lying in each other’s arms half an hour later, cuddling close, the sweat and smell of our first ever copulation very much upon us.

“Mmm?” she purred.

“Now that it’s actually happened,” I smiled. “Was it… what you wanted it to be?”

She snuggled closer to me.

“It was lovely,” she smiled.

“You didn’t cum,” I said sadly.

“I almost never do,” she smiled back. “But it felt good just to have you inside me.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” I grinned.

“By all means, take it as one,” she grinned back. “I’ll expect great things next time.”

A warm, contented feeling came over me.

“You want there to be a next time?” I asked quietly.

“If you do,” she replied, suddenly uncertain.

“Right now, more than anything else I can imagine,” I told her truthfully.

I kissed her on the lips for the first time. Unlike before, she did not even try to resist; another bridge of intimacy had been crossed. She tasted salty with a strong post-coital tang in her mouth that I hadn’t tasted in years.

We cuddled for a long time, our legs intertwined; Libby’s soft feminine body oozing a pleasing amount of white sticky fluid onto her inner thighs and from them onto mine.

“I’m sorry I came inside you,” I said, kissing her on top of her head. “I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled. “It made it feel more… I don’t know. More real I suppose.”

“You prefer things real?” I teased.

“It’s the reason you’re here, isn’t it?” she replied with equal playfulness.

“Should we use condoms next time?” I asked, embarrassed.

“Do you want to?” she asked, clearly feeling equally awkward.

“It’s better without,” I smiled. “For me at least.”

“Then let’s not bother,” Libby smiled. “It’s too late for today anyway.” She laughed. “If you’ve got any diseases, then you’ve already given them to me and I’m far too old to get pregnant anyway.”

I chuckled. There was a long silence during which I inhaled deeply the distinctive aroma of a freshly and willingly inseminated woman; an aroma I had not smelled in the last decade of my marriage.

My mind wandered over all that had happened, still not able to take it all in. Had it really happened? The warm, soft presence in my arms and the goo spread across both our bodies should have been evidence enough. The fact that I really had just fucked my wife’s prettiest friend was now undeniable; her husband really had asked me to do it too…

Her husband…

“Am I really bigger than James?”

The words were out before I realised I was even thinking them.

“Mike!” Libby scolded. “That’s a terrible question and thoroughly deserves the wrong answer.”

“I’m sorry. It just slipped out,” I said shame-faced.

Libby sighed, her eyes unfocussed as she stroked my arm.

“The truth is, it has been so long since an erect penis has been inside my vagina that I have lost all perspective. It felt huge to me. Will that do?”

I smiled broadly. It was enough.

“If it helps to know, you’re much tighter than Jane,” I added cheekily.

Libby looked pleased, which made me feel a little better about my own childish reaction.

We cuddled for a while longer, me stroking her soft skin, brushing the blonde hair from her pretty face and kissing her lips over and over again as she lay in my arms.

Eventually, the look on her sweet, pretty face began to have an effect; I began to feel stirrings in my groin that my age and recent history suggested shouldn’t be returning for at least an hour. A short while later, my hardening cock began to press lightly against her thigh.

Libby must have noticed it too.

“Are you starting to…?” she asked, reaching down and toying with my half flaccid shaft in her slender fingers.

It responded to her touch in the only way it knew, hardening markedly and swelling before our eyes.

“It looks like it, doesn’t it?” I replied, pleased as punch. “It must be the effect you’re having on me.”

She took my sticky cock more confidently in her hand, wrapping her fingers around it and squeezing. It responded again, firming in her fingers until it was more than semi-erect.

“When is James due back?” I asked as she stroked the underside of my shaft and my tightening sack with her fingertips.

“Not for half an hour at least. When do you have to be home?”

My cock was now once again fully erect.

“I don’t. I said I’ve got to work late,” I grinned.

“Then shall we see if it’s a nice second time round?”

Libby’s legs parted as I rose over her, my thighs between her raised knees. As I began to mount her, I looked down at the body that was going to be mine for the second time in one afternoon. Her vulva was pink and puffy from our first copulation, her slit was gaping as was her entrance, her inner lips an angry red but neither she nor I were in any mood to hold back.

With my arms either side of her shoulders, Libby reached down and guided my once-again-turgid flesh into hers. Loosened from our first fuck and well lubricated with her juices and my semen, her vagina offered no resistance at all and I sank my full length into her in a single smooth thrust.

Libby sighed as I bottomed out within her, my rough pubic hair grinding against her downy mound. Her wonderful vagina closed around me once again, engulfing every millimetre of my cock from its base to its battered tip.

Our eyes met, my heart beat hard in my chest… and a moment later, I was fucking her once again.

Having already cum once, this time I lasted much longer, bringing her more and, if the noises escaping her lips were anything to judge by, much greater pleasure. Our nervousness now gone, my own pleasure simply soared too, hammering my cock into her harder and harder, faster and faster until finally, it was all too much, and an almost dry climax fell hard upon me.

So soon after my first ejaculation, it was actually physically painful the second time I came inside her, the base of my cock burning as the very last drops of semen left in my balls were forced along its length, through its tiny lips and across the sweet pink peach of her cervix.

***

My cock was still burning two hours later when, freshly showered and feeling better than I had in years, I opened the front door of our house, entered and joined my unsuspecting wife in the kitchen. I avoided kissing her just in case my mouth still bore the tang of my recent ejaculations, then went upstairs to change into my jeans and brushed my teeth vigorously.

Needless to say, I was distant and distracted all evening, but Jane was so caught up in her books and newspapers that she didn’t seem to notice. For the first time in my life, I was pleased that she did not suggest we had sex when we went to bed.

I lay awake for a long time, listening to the familiar sounds of my wife sleeping alongside me, but with my mind full of very unfamiliar thoughts.

For the first time since our marriage, I had cheated on her. I was an unfaithful husband, but to my surprise and shame, the thought came more as a simple statement of fact than a source of guilt. It had been many years since I had fucked my wife twice in a row, ejaculating both times, a fact that the undeniable soreness of my cock’s shaft and the dull pain at its base kept bringing to mind every time I came close to sleep.

Soon, in the darkness, memories of sexual encounters prior to my relationship with Jane began to come back vividly; of clumsy fumbling, of painful, poorly lubricated penetrations, of messy premature ejaculations and risky, unprotected inseminations but above all, of the extraordinary differences between the disappointingly small number of women I had fucked in my life.

But of course, the most vivid images that night were of Libby, of her beautiful face and her soft, rounded, feminine body. Of the softness of her pale flesh under my fingertips, of the smell of her strawberry blonde hair on my face, of her full lips, her hot, active tongue and soft, cool inner thighs.

And of the way her vagina gripped my erect cock so tightly as I desperately pumped the contents of my body and soul into hers.

***

It’s now nearly three years since that remarkable summer. Libby and I meet every two or three weeks, always at her request. Well, usually; occasionally the impetus comes from me if I’m feeling very neglected in bed. Sometimes it’s only for an hour’s quick fuck, other times, we can spend an entire afternoon together, making love slowly and tenderly.

We have never used any form of protection and I hope, never will.

Over this time, we have become very familiar with each other’s bodies, knowing what works best, what to avoid and in which direction a little adventure would be most welcome. Although mouths and fingers inevitably feature in our lovemaking – the taste of Libby’s aroused vulva is simply impossible to forget - we do try to focus mostly on the penetrative sex that her husband James can no longer provide.

Deprived of that deep female need for so long, Libby responds well to the presence of my erect cock inside her body, now reaching climax freely and easily in a way that my wife hasn’t managed for years.

I will never forget the first time I brought her to orgasm using my cock alone.

When Libby climaxes, she cums little and often rather than hard and noisily. Instead of one or two large, body-shaking spasms when she reaches orgasm, she tends to have many – perhaps a dozen smaller climaxes, each tremor a little stronger than the last, building quickly until she can actually come close to fainting.

The soft sounds coming from her pink lips beneath me as she cums can at times, make me cry.

When I cum myself, it is almost always deep in her vagina. As well as a longing for penetration, Libby says she loves to feel me ejaculating inside her; the way my cock throbs and pulses as I pump semen into her soft, sweet, curvy body. She even loves feeling me soften inside her afterwards, as if our bodies and souls were truly moulding together.

And it wasn’t a one-off; with the right lover, I really can cum twice within half an hour, despite my age; something I hadn’t had the opportunity to do with my wife for over two decades, and never thought I would ever be able to do again.

Of course, James was right; I have fallen in love with Libby. I couldn’t help it. In truth, I probably fell in love with her that very first afternoon as I looked down into those big green eyes and the first ropes of semen spurted from the end of my cock and into her soft, sweet body.

Even then, I knew that whatever had just happened, was more than just sex.

Since that first time, I have ejaculated into her more than a hundred times, every one unprotected, every glob of my semen and billions of my sperm now absorbed by her flesh.

She is quite literally a different woman because of my love.

I’m pretty sure she’s in love with me too; at least a little.

We both try not to say it during our fucking, but sometimes the urge is just too great and in the heat of passion, one or other of us will blurt out those three dangerous but magical words.

At the moment, this love isn’t a threat to either of our marriages; if anything, it seems to have made Libby and James’s even stronger, but we will both have to watch out in case that changes.

For this reason, we only meet in the afternoons or the occasional evening, and only ever at her house. Though we have become much more adventurous over the last two years, we only fuck in the guest bedroom or occasionally downstairs, never in the room or bed she shares with her husband.

I understand how important this distinction is to all three of us.

Similarly, although Libby has cooked for me several times both before and after fucking in their house, we have never had dinner together in public, and have never spent a full night together, let alone a weekend.

As James said in that first, extraordinary meeting, I am there to stick my cock in his wife’s cunt, not to provide romance or to be a rival life partner. After all, she and I are both happily married and wish to remain so.

To this end, when we do meet, Libby never wears scent of any kind and I bring my own shower gel and shampoo so apart from the unavoidable residual aromas of sex, there are no alien smells afterwards to arouse suspicion. To reduce the risk of discovery still further, the only gifts we ever give each other are bought using cash and are only used or consumed during our lovemaking sessions.

Perversely, infidelity seems to have improved my own marriage too. With a regular partner for good, satisfying sex, I am far less frustrated and less impatient with my own wife’s lack of interest. As a result, the constant background tension brought about by my sexual frustration and Jane’s feelings of anger and guilt have been considerably reduced.

And of course, on the few occasions we do make love, my performance is noticeably improved, making the whole experience better for both of us.

It’s not all good news though. There has been a social price to pay.

James and I communicate rarely and then only by text message. And although my wife still sees Libby at their book club, we are seldom, if ever, invited to events that would bring the four of us together. Jane occasionally mentions this, but she isn’t too upset; we were always a bit peripheral to their social circle anyway.

As James said when it all started, that was one of the reasons they thought I would be a suitable partner in the first place.

How long will it last? I simply don’t know. All I can say is that it’s working well for us all now. There is no realistic prospect of James ever recovering that part of his bodily function so, as long as we are careful and remain undetected, as far as I’m concerned, it could go on indefinitely.

I have no desire to stop being Libby’s Lover.