I’d long fantasized about having sex where there was a serious risk of being caught. However, that dream wasn’t realized until recently. But let me tell you how it finally came to pass.

Ever since I was in college and almost got caught with my then-boyfriend in the men’s dorm, the thrill of the forbidden has lingered in my imagination. Unfortunately, my first husband’s career necessitated living somewhat in the public eye, so the stakes were simply too high for us to risk any sexual adventures becoming public knowledge. But when I divorced John last November and began dating Peter, suddenly life was filed with possibilities again — and at 40, I was wetter and more eager than I was at 18.

I’ve kept a trim figure my entire life from running and yoga, and I celebrated my divorce with new boobs, which give me great joy. Don’t get me wrong. My former B-cups were pretty, too, but I love being a bountiful 32D with big rosy nipples. Peter admitted my rack was one of the first things that caught his attention. When I tease him about his confession, he insists: “I was looking at your eyes, too!”

I believe him — and not just because I’ve gotten compliments on my sultry brown eyes my entire life.

With Peter, I feel I’ve finally hit the lottery in terms finding a partner who is so very open and genuine. From our first date onward, he’s regularly made me both laugh and come. I didn’t think I could get any luckier — until last week over breakfast.

I’d just poured myself some coffee and was still standing by the pot when he suddenly asked, “Have you ever wanted to try having sex somewhere where you know you could get caught?”

I nearly choked on my beverage.

“It’s OK,” he said quickly. “We don’t have to do anything like that.”

“No, no! I mean, I want to! I’ve always wanted to!”

Maybe I blurted that out a little too exuberantly, but I couldn’t contain my excitement.

“Easy, there,” Peter said teasingly. “Maybe you’ve had enough coffee.”

I laughed and evaded his playful attempt to snatch my mug. “But are you serious?” I asked, putting the coffee down. “Because I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to — ”

“To get fucked in public?”

“Yes! Somewhere out on the town or even outdoors. To have a little naughty fun in a risqué location.”

Peter pulled me close and nuzzled my neck as he proposed, “Or what about having our own private performance in the middle of a much bigger one?”

“Do you want to start a performance right now?” I asked, tugging on his bathrobe. “Because that can happen.”

Peter tilted my chin up and kissed me, but then he pulled back and suggested, “Why don’t we let the anticipation build? I have a private box for us at the opera. For tomorrow night.”

“You like opera?”

“Well, my firm gave me tickets, and I think I’d like anything with you. We’ll also be alone in a private balcony. Who knows how the music could move us?”

Peter gave my butt a delightful and unexpected squeeze.

“Just for that, I’m not going to wear panties under my dress. You’ll have to think about that for the next two days,” I told him.

“That’s certainly helpful.” He kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

On the night of the opera, I wore a long black satin halter dress. It had a sexy thigh-high slit, which I figured could prove practical for our intentions. We arrived just in time for the show. The usher led us up the stairs, and the moment we were alone, Peter kissed me while everyone else was looking at the stage.

The private box was indeed private. We sat all the way in the back, cloaked in darkness, so it was unlikely any audience member in the orchestra level could see us, even if they looked our way. The other box seats were angled toward the performers, so no one faced us directly. Also, the front panel of the box was tall enough to provide an excellent amount of coverage. But we were definitely in public, and the thrill was real. I felt butterflies of raw sensual excitement fluttering inside me.

“You’re so fucking hot, Holly.” Peter kissed me again and caressed my breasts through my dress. My nipples were stiff and poked against the thin satin. “Definitely no panties?” he asked in a whisper.

“Check for yourself,” I challenged him.

He kissed my neck. I felt his hand on my thigh, and then his fingers crept beneath my dress through the slit in my gown. As I felt him make contact with my clit, I looked at the crowd. Sure enough, everyone else in the darkened auditorium seemed to be fixated on the activity onstage. Still, I stayed as quiet as could be, while he stroked my clitoris more persistently. But when the sensations became too much, I pulled him in for a deep kiss and moaned into his mouth.

We were only maybe ten minutes into the first act, and Peter already had my clit ready to burst. He always knows just how to touch me — down to the perfect pressure and rhythm.

As my juices further flowed, he slid two fingers inside me, pumping them in and out, while occasionally swiping his thumb against my clit. Orgasmic pressure was building quickly inside me, and I knew I couldn’t contain myself for much longer. Thankfully, a female singer onstage reached a loud crescendo around the same time I did, and Peter’s kisses successfully muffled my climactic cries.

I sat there sweaty and panting as Peter made a show of lasciviously licking his fingers.

“Oh, you just wait,” I hissed.

As the music picked up again, I pretended to drop my program and got down on the carpeted floor.

“What if someone looks over?” Peter whispered, playing into my fantasy.

I flashed him a sexy smile and tore open his pants. Fortunately, he’d also chosen to forgo underwear. I gave his shaft a few hearty strokes before devouring it eagerly.

Peter hummed as I took his dick deep into my throat, and the orchestra’s notes mingled appealingly with his musical utterances.

I added my own moans to the mix, so my voice’s vibrations would tease him even more. I continued bobbing up and down on Peter’s dick as the first act ended. People began to applaud, and he did, too, attempting to act like any other audience member — and not like a guy who had his dick in a woman’s mouth.

As the applause died down, Peter looked at me and mouthed, “You’re going to kill me.”

In response, I pulled back, spit in my left hand and began stroking his shaft, while I flicked my tongue against his balls.

My pussy was so fucking wet. I couldn’t help myself; I started rubbing my clit again as I continued to pleasure him. I glanced upward and caught sight of my man’s face. Even in the dim light, I could tell he was breathing erratically, and his brow seemed to be glistening with a sheen of sweat. There was no doubt he knew I was playing with myself, and that definitely contributed to his aroused state.

I slowly swirled my tongue around the head of his cock and decided it was time to take things to the next level.

As I started to rise, Peter helped me stand. I casually maneuvered behind my seat. With the second act very much underway, Peter got behind me and lifted my dress. I’d expected him to jam his cock into me without delay. But instead, he took his time. He caressed my bare ass cheeks and lightly fingered my clit.

I moaned, and he leaned close to whisper in my ear, “I love seeing you get this turned on.”

Peter slid downward and tickled my pussy with his tongue. Standing while he teased me from behind was thrilling. I felt so exposed. I was rattled by the sudden jolt of my own vulnerability, then came a spine-tingling adrenaline rush that let me lose myself in the moment.

“Oh God, please fuck me, Peter. I need you so bad,” I muttered, even though I knew it was doubtful he could hear me over the performance.

Still, he answered my body’s call. Standing once more, he nudged my entrance with his dick. He whispered hotly in my ear, “Rub your clit, while I fuck you.”

That was music to my ears, and I did his bidding without hesitation.

Peter’s cock entered me, and the gradual glide of his erection made me moan with longing.

“You feel so good,” he said.

I rubbed my clit faster and rocked my body toward him, craving more of what he had to give.

Peter finally took mercy on me. He pulled out and delivered a powerful thrust, jamming his full length inside me in one go. I bit down on my lip as the music below seemed to mirror the intensity of our semipublic fuck session. Peter’s animalistic passion took over, and he reamed me harder and faster.

I kept a white-knuckled grip on the seat as my ass reared back rhythmically to meet his every thrust. If there were no music, I’m sure everyone would have heard our bodies loudly slapping together.

By that point, I was nearly lost in swirling bliss — and perhaps making a bit too much noise because Peter sought to muzzle the sounds of my excitement by gently putting his hand over my mouth. But as my orgasm overtook me, I probably wouldn’t have cared if the entire audience stood up to stare. They didn’t, though, and the cautious, practical part of me was relieved.

I urged Peter to step back, savoring the delicious slide of his cock pulling out of my pussy. I wanted him to finish in my mouth, which he realized when I turned him around and sat on the small ledge behind our seats. That put my mouth on level with his dick, which was still slick with my juices. I sucked him into my mouth, tasting our mingling flavors. Peter came in a heartbeat, filling my mouth with his hot load. I managed to swallow most of it. When I stood up, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped my lips clean.

Exhilarated and craving more pleasure, we bailed on the show during intermission, so we could have a private encore at home.

Since then, we have continued our public sexcursions. It’s certainly been a long, hot summer, and I’m looking forward to more adventures on our road trip this fall. But I’ll never forget the first time Peter and I bravely took our shenanigans public.