We were teenagers when we met and she oozed naughtiness even then. The truth is, at sixteen, she had already sampled over a dozen cocks, either wanking them after school or experimenting with sex when her parents were out.
Perhaps, when it came to my turn to lose my virginity to her, I shouldn't have been so naive as to pretend that my cock measured seven inches (I concealed three inches of the tape measure in my hand). We had sex that evening. I rolled on, put it in, pumped a little and came. That was sex, wasn't it? Well, it was to me.
I've learnt to use my fingers since then but, even now, the whole thing has gone well if it lasts fifteen minutes from start to finish. She tells me now that, when we were kids, she thought my cock might still be developing and sex would get better. She was wrong on both counts.
Little wonder, then, that my wife has tried affairs, the first only months after we married. Anyone reading this would certainly not blame her for doing so, but the truth is that for every man she enjoyed, she paid unfairly by punishing herself with guilt. It helped her a little when she told me what she'd done, but she could never have been expected to understand the curious thrill her confessions gave me from the humiliation of being forced to acknowledge my inadequacies.
I had always put her younger exploits down to the insecurities of teenage years, but when I stopped to think, that didn’t explain the married years. The penny dropped. She simply needed fulfilling sex - whatever that might be. One thing for certain, though, she wasn't getting it from me. She is certainly a woman that will laugh in the face of anyone who says size doesn't matter, but she also has had enough experience to know that quality has to endorse quantity. I began to ponder the need for her to be truly pleasured by another man but she rejected the idea as being too dangerous.
So, we fast forward and she has had an army of lovers. I'm not going into how it came about, but I played my part in making her realise that she is still highly desirable to an even wider age range of men than at any time in her life. And many have played their part, too, in telling her just how much they wanted to enjoy her sexually.
I remember vividly, her first 'out in the open fuck with hubby's approval'. The thrill was immense for her and, with her first 'bull' she enjoyed her best orgasm ever, having been attended to for over three hours. She was so horny when her lover had gone home to his wife that she actually let me penetrate her for the first time in many months. Her man that afternoon had been very large and she couldn't hold in her laughter as I slipped my little dick into her. I came in just seconds which turned her laughter into disbelief; that is until she remembered very quickly just why she had been fucking another man all afternoon.
Her next approved meet was only a few days later. How little did I realise that almost twenty-four hours of pure lustful sex with a boy half her age would let me know just how inept and unskilled my abilities are, and just how much sex can be enjoyed by one delicious woman.
Her young man had been paying her attention, albeit remotely, for weeks. The prelude had included the interchange of photographs and online chat which my wife had enthusiastically shared with me. From the pictures he sent, we could see his cock was very thick and well proportioned but his desire to please my wife seemed to display maturity beyond his years - and abilities that I will never possess.
They planned to spend a night together on neutral territory, a hotel, and hoped the time and space would allow her to relax and ‘let herself go’.
The day arrived and I hugged her goodbye, having helped choose and plan her lingerie for the experience. I could be forgiven for not understanding that true lust has no real place for fancy garments when faced with the raw animal passion of sex. Apparently, her young lover had removed all her clothes within minutes of locking the hotel door behind them. He then loved her with his mouth expertly and passionately for as long as it takes me to watch a football match. In that time, she had enjoyed two intense orgasms, and he had only just begun.
What followed was an almost seamless passage of sex that my wife had never in her life experienced or dared to dream possible. The boy himself orgasmed three times but only when he decided it was right for him to cum. In other words, after he had indulged his tongue deep into my wife’s pussy, his lips and teeth on her long hard nipples, and his plump cock easing rhythmically to begin with, building to a crescendo over hours rather than minutes, until she was enjoying every thrust from the deepest and hardest prolonged fucking of her life.
They paused only between her orgasms which grew with intensity as the night moved on. Even when sleep overwhelmed them, it was laced with sex. My wife woke after a short rest at one point to find her lover also asleep but with his fingers still deep inside her wetness. And so they continued and, by daybreak, she was screaming to her fifth climax since losing her lingerie so naively packed by me. Never had she had two orgasms during the same act of sex let alone five, but her young lover was refreshed now and far from finished.
My wife's clitoris now became his entire focus for the remainder of the morning. He expertly used tongue and fingers to continuously engorge the pleasure zone, pausing occasionally to raise her pleasure at an even higher plateau by sliding his thick cock back into her. Her moans had become loud now but nothing could prepare her for the avalanche of orgasms that eventually burst through her body, heralded by a thunderbolt that contorted her as she screamed with uncontrolled pleasure.
One after another, the spasms rolled through her body and still her lover continued to control their magnitude. In the end, breathless, she begged him to stop before she lost consciousness. The hotel staff didn't need telling when their noisy sex, for now, was over.
Throughout the evening and night, my wife had been kind enough to keep me informed, by text message, of her safety and progress. One smiley face symbol signified an orgasm. Imagine how helplessly upstaged I felt as I waited for the final communication that Sunday morning, knowing that by the time I had gone to bed she had already climaxed four times.
When the last text came, it simply read, Taking a well-earned shower.
I thought she must have used up her quota of climaxes the previous night and she was content and satisfied with that. Then came her call to tell me she was on her way home, and she'd be telling me how the morning had ended.
