Several years ago my husband and I were having marital problems, and decided to undergo a two-month trial separation right before Christmas.

He suggested that we date other people during that interval as long as we were honest about it if we later reconciled. Personally I couldn’t see myself cheating on my husband, but wanted to be flexible and save our marriage. I agreed to his request.

During the first month of the separation I stayed with a single girlfriend and did little socially. One night Ellen convinced me to join her and her friends for drinks at a nearby Mexican restaurant. It was there that I met Matt, whom Ellen had known since childhood. He had been divorced for a little more than a year, and was still struggling with the breakup. He and I found ourselves talking about love and life for the entire evening, largely ignoring everyone else in the group. Although we were sharing some deeply personal information, I felt completely safe with Matt and believed ours might develop into a solid, platonic friendship.

About a week later my husband called to tell me he didn’t want to wait the entire two months of our separation but instead was asking for a divorce. He had been seeing another woman the entire time and now wanted to marry her. I hung up the phone and cried for what felt like hours. When I’d finally exhausted my supply of tears, I took a shower and prepared for bed, but found myself too restless to sleep. The next thing I knew I had thrown on a pair of comfortable jeans and a warm sweater and was in my car driving to Matt’s place 40 miles away.

At around 9:30 p.m. I arrived at the antebellum dwelling he was restoring. A soft glow through the two front windows assured me he was home, but I was nervous about showing up unannounced. I felt a little better when his golden Labrador greeted me on the porch steps. She was nuzzling my hand when Matt suddenly appeared at the screen door and bade me welcome. For the first time in hours I felt the tension in my muscles begin to recede.

His home was scarcely warmer than the icy January night air, but the candles he’d lit around the living room burned brightly, and two aging ceramic heaters glowed in the darkness. Without a word, Matt wrapped me in an old quilt before selecting several CDs to provide a soothing backdrop to our conversation as we snuggled together on the couch. As the music played softly in the background, he pulled me into his arms, resting his chin above my head. Together we sat silently, relaxing, listening to the music.

After a while Matt kissed my forehead and asked me why I had come. I did not reply, but instead turned and nuzzled his chest, sighing comfortably. Brushing his hands through my hair, he pulled my face up to his and gazed into my hazel eyes with concern in his vivid green ones. Huskily he asked me if I knew what I was doing--was I ready for an intimate relationship? I honestly didn’t know. I could only give him a small smile as I leaned forward to kiss him gently on the lips.

The pleasure of that sweet, tender kiss was exquisite--as liberating as it was enticing. His lips were soft but insistent, his kisses teasingly light as if to pique my interest. I turned and began trailing kisses of my own along his jaw line and on his cheeks and forehead before I met his mouth again in a soulful weld that had our tongues mating in a skillful dance. As the kiss deepened I found myself pulling Matt closer to me, my breath gusting warmly against his skin as his tongue moved rhythmically within my mouth, tasting, possessing. When he traced his hand across my left breast I shuddered and whimpered against his lips. It was Matt’s turn to smile as he cupped the breast in his hand and massaged it gently.

As I sighed with pleasure and leaned back to catch my breath, Matt shifted and pulled me with him. He unwrapped me from my quilt cocoon, drew me up from the couch and into his arms for a warm embrace. Murmuring contentedly, I traced his strong broad back with my hands. His own hands strayed to my bottom, possessing me with ten fingers, and drawing me snugly against him. For several moments we stood together, rocking gently to the music, before Matt smiled down at me and led me to the front room across the hall.

The four-poster nearly engulfed the room but fit nicely into the decor he’d chosen for the house. It was cold enough to make dubious the idea of removing clothes, but before I could dwell on it Matt turned down the bed and drew me into it. Within moments of being back in his arms I found my sweater being pulled over my head and my bra summarily removed. The cold air had made my nipples firmly erect, inviting his lips and teeth to nibble them. Moaning, I arched my back as he pulled gently at one tit, then the other. His lips trailed across my skin as the shock of the frigid air intensified the ache building within me.

When his hands traveled lower and cupped my pussy through my jeans, I cried out and moved against him in an intuitive, desperate rhythm. As his attentions pressed on, my movements became more frenetic. I whimpered, moaned, and finally pleaded with him to stop before I climaxed, but he ignored my cries and quickly drove me over the edge. Shuddering, I collapsed limply against him, opening my eyes only when I felt him shift away from me. I watched with amusement as he swiftly disrobed, tossing his clothes carelessly to the floor. He rejoined me and pulled my jeans down and off. I nearly laughed at his eagerness, but was intrigued by what would happen next.

I was not prepared for a direct sensual assault on my pussy, but Matt was quick to trail feather-light kisses from my breasts to that lower target. He moved down and positioned himself between my thighs, his arms locking around my buttocks to keep me from shifting out of his grasp. The feel of his tongue as he laved the glistening lips of my vagina was so intense I reared and bucked against him. Those strong arms kept me in place and his attentions remained well focused. When he probed within me I cried with pleasure, but then he proved he was a skillful tease by withdrawing. He refused to explore more than one area at a time, careful not to overstimulate and bring me off until he was ready. When his tongue finally caressed my clit and he drew that button into his mouth, I could not stop myself from screaming.

As another climax ripped through me, Matt released his grip on my trembling legs and moved forward and between them. His erection probed my wetness, moving into me just a bit, then withdrawing, then thrusting forward again ever so slightly. Anxious to have him fully within me, I reached for his ass to pull him toward me, but he was too strong and I too exhausted to make it happen. When at last my breathing steadied and I stopped fighting him, he took my hips in his hands and slid into my pussy. He filled me so completely, stroking and touching bottom, that I writhed and moaned and found myself begging to sit up to allow him to take me from behind. I found that Matt was never one to deny a lady’s request.

As he filled me from the rear I cried out again from the sheer pleasure of it. His thrusts were at first controlled and measured, but soon increased rapidly. My reactions spurred him to move even more quickly, with a driving force that triggered my third climax. As my cries filled the darkness, he too groaned deeply. When his muscles clenched, he filled my pussy wih thick, delicious come.

Exhausted and drenched with sweat, we collapsed onto cool sheets, spooning together to conserve heat and caressing one another until we drifted off into a contented sleep.

Sadly, our romance did not last through my divorce, but Matt did a lot to make me feel sexy and desirable again. I will always be grateful to him for restoring my feelings of self-worth and desirability at a time when I needed them most.