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Happily, my husband, Mark, is fully aware that I have feelings for women. In fact, he’s the one who encouraged me to form a sexual relationship with Celia. Not that Mark and I don’t love each other — we do, intensely. After five years together, we feel our commitment to one another more strongly than ever.
Granted, this is an unusual arrangement. But then, Mark is an unusually kind and understanding man. We met at a Mardi Gras ball one warm spring night in New Orleans — me in a cut-to-there chiffon dress and Mark wearing a white dinner jacket and a lazy smile. He’s a tall, auburn-haired man with gorgeous brown eyes, and to say he swept me off my feet is putting it mildly. We made love just a few hours after we met, coupling urgently in a scatter of clothes strewn on my living-room floor. Just a few months later, we got married and moved into an airy apartment in the French Quarter.
Right from the beginning, our relationship was nearly idyllic. The one cloud on the horizon — and it was a cloud which got darker as time went on — was Mark’s killing business schedule. He’s a consultant for a major corporation, and just about every month, he spends a week in Houston and another week or more in Venezuela or Mexico.
I’m not exactly a clinging vine; I own and operate a small art gallery I’m quite proud of. But I quickly found out that being separated from Mark was difficult to handle. I’ve always been intensely sexual, and our lovemaking was so hot that doing without for weeks at a time was a real strain for me.
As it happened, an old college friend of Mark’s a woman name Celia, had just returned to New Orleans after a few years abroad. She was a fashion designer and an occasional model, and Mark was sure I’d like her. At his insistence, all three of us had lunch one afternoon in the magnolia-shaded courtyard of an elegant restaurant.
Celia proved to be just as charming and beautiful as Mark had said. She was a leggy brunette with brilliant green eyes and a very full mouth, and beneath her white cotton dress, her tiny, big-nippled breasts were braless and distracting. Mark was so eager for Celia and me to become friends that all through lunch, he seemed to hover nervously at the edge of the conversation.
Later that night, back in our apartment, Mark asked me — for the tenth time — what I thought of Celia. I was sitting naked at my dressing table, running a brush through my hair. Giving him a puzzled look, I put down the brush and then padded over to the bed. “Let’s not talk about Celia right now,” I suggested, smiling.
Bending over, I lifted his half-hard penis in my hand. As he enlarged, I knelt on the bed and licked the pretty crimson knob. While I gently mouthed his cock, I reached down and fingered my pussy; and when my honey seeped from between my fingers, I quickly straddled him and sank down on his penis, it’s invading length filling every inch of me.
His big prick cleaving me like that made me sigh with pleasure, and after resting for a moment, I started riding him more and more forcefully. The feel of my heavy breasts slapping up and down excited me terribly; and just when I was about to come, Mark lifted his hips and released his cream. His semen splashing inside me set off my own orgasm, and I toppled forward, burying his face in my breasts.
In the long afterglow of our lovemaking, Mark finally got around to telling me what had been on his mind all day. He was hoping that Celia and I would become not just friends, but also lovers. Needless to say, I was more than a little surprised.
But when I started to protest that I wasn’t about to share him with another woman, he told me that he wasn’t interested in Celia sexually. “And besides,” he said, smiling, “she’s gay.” Although this gave me a start, I began to realize that from Mark’s point of view, Celia was the delicious solution to our busy schedule problems.
Talking about all this had caused Mark’s cock to stiffen again, and when he mounted me and I coiled my legs around his waist, I must admit that I was fantasizing about Celia. She was undeniably beautiful and sexy, and the idea of making love to her-something I hadn’t yet consciously thought about-now made me light-headed with lust. All I could think about was hot sex.
As Mark’s swollen cock moved smoothly in my vagina, I ran my hands across the firm muscles of his back. At the same time, I thought of how much softer Celia’s body would be. The contrast between the woman I was imagining and the man moving inside me was strangely exciting. I felt as if I were holding both of them in my arms; and when I started coming, the two images, Mark and Celia, merged into one. Unable to focus my mind, I threw back my head and moaned in ecstasy.
My affair with Celia then, began just a few days later, when Mark left town for a week. I’d been thinking about Celia — constantly, in fact — but even though I knew I had his blessing, it took me a couple of days to work up my nerve; and when I finally forced myself to pick up the phone and call her, I still hadn’t figured out what I was going to say.
Celia made it easy for me, though. When I mentioned that Mark would be in Houston for a week or so, she dryly suggested that we might find some way to amuse each other.
“Tell you what,” she said. “I’m free this afternoon. Why don’t you stop by my place?”
Celia’s “place” turned out to be an imposing antebellum mansion surrounded by towering oaks and lush foliage. I found her in the garden around in back of the house, stretched out on a chaise longue and wearing shorts and a yellow bra-top. Her darkly tanned body gleamed with suntan oil, and her long, chestnut-colored hair was pinned up loosely on top of her head. When she heard my footsteps on the path, she put down the book she was reading and looked at me without Speaking.
There really weren’t any preliminaries; like two lovers in an erotic dream, we simply walked into the dark house and started removing our clothes. When Celia pulled off her top and revealed her pointy little breasts, I was suddenly so excited, I could hardly breathe. This was the realization of my fantasy!
I hadn’t been with a woman since college, and I went into heat so quickly that I felt dizzy and light-headed. Standing up in the shadowy living room, we embraced and kissed. I had to perch on my tiptoes to reach her mouth, and I was so weak in the legs that Celia steadied me by cupping my buttocks in her hands. But, in a rapture of lust, I sank to my knees and pressed my face into her arousing sex. Her black pubic hair had been trimmed back to a stiff tuft at the top of her slit, and the pink lips of her pussy were already swollen and moist with honey.
As I pressed close to her, I suddenly recalled the last time I’d eaten Mark — just a few nights before, kneeling in this same position. But now, as I closed my eyes, instead of feeling his hard manhood against my lips, I felt Celia’s tender folds yielding beneath the affection of my mouth.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes.”
For a moment I teased her by licking the nectar off her labia. Then I let my tongue flutter over her hard little clitoris and began to probe the interior of her cunt. “Deeper,” she insisted. “Go deeper!”
Her fingers were tangled in my hair, gripping me, holding me firmly against her. She kept rocking her hips in order to force my tongue deeper into her. I reached behind her and dug my nails into her boyish little ass, then ran my hands up and down the lengths of her thighs, stroking her flanks, until she trembled violently and came in my mouth. She tasted delicious.
As her climax melted her, she slid down onto her knees and gathered me into her arms. We curled up on the floor together, and while I sucked on one of her swollen breasts, she eased her fingers in and out of my vagina until my womb filled up with light, and all at once a rush of intense heat flooded my belly, making we wild with passion.
The day Mark returned to New Orleans, I picked him up at the airport and gave him a long, lingering kiss. I must’ve looked especially happy, because he stepped back and held me at arm’s length, then grinned and said, “I told you you’d like Celia… ”
“Don’t be so smug,” I laughed.
As soon as we got back to the apartment, he hiked up my skirt and fucked me standing up in the hallway, with my bare ass slapping against the wall every time he thrust into me. When he finally came, he drove in so forcefully that he lifted me off my feet. I wrapped my legs around his waist and frantically worked my cunt muscles, squeezing his softening penis until my own climax blossomed in my belly.
In the year since then, Mark hasn’t once alluded to the affair I’m having with Celia. When he’s in town, she and I are simply friends; but during those weeks when he’s gone, we become lovers again. In a curious way, making love with Celia has only enhanced my passion for Mark. I’m never more aware of his maleness than after leaving Celia’s arms, and her femininity only brings his coarser beauty into relief. Celia will often mount me and grind her pussy against mine until both of us shudder in orgasm; at other times, when I need to be penetrated by something more than her fingers, she puts on a dildo and harness and fucks me as if she were a man.
The first time she actually took me like this occurred about three months after we’d begun having sex. Mark had flown down to Mexico for two weeks, and by the end of that period, I was dying to get laid. When I mentioned this to Celia, she gave me a mysterious smile and went into the bathroom.
It was a rainy, windswept day in early autumn. The two of us had spent most of the afternoon in bed, watching a sex film on the VCR, occasionally going down on each other sort of restlessly. A few minutes after leaving the room, Celia stepped back into the doorway, wearing a leather harness and an enormous latex dildo. As she walked across the room, the huge organ swung lazily between her legs. A blush of excitement had risen in her cheeks, and her nipples were rosy, erect and inviting.
I looked into her glittering eyes, then dropped my glance to her prick and ran my tongue greedily across my lips. Well, this was certainly something I’d always wanted to try, but now I felt a little panicky and breathless. For one thing, Celia’s dildo was even bigger than Mark’s lovely cock. The visual effect was heightened by the soft curves of her feminine body.
“It’s too big,” I managed to say. She put a finger to my lips to hush me; then she knelt between my legs and cupped my damp pussy in her hand. Smearing my nectar on her palms, she pumped her cock in her small fist until the shaft gleamed in the soft light of the room. I was in nirvana.
As she leaned forward to kiss me, I instinctively raised my hips, offering her my pussy. I encircled her with my arms and pressed my lips against her mouth. I could feel her heart beating wildly between my breasts, and her hand trembled as she reached down to guide the head of the dildo into my cunt. Then she entered me in one smooth stroke, going in so deep that the knob of her tool burrowed into a place I’d never felt before.
Inside me, the dildo seemed even more massive. I could feel the thick shaft inside me, and the stretched-apart feeling in my pussy was practically paralyzing. This fullness answered my deepest needs. Groaning with pleasure, I submitted to Celia’s cock. Each time she sank into me, I felt as though I were taking her body into mine.
The intensity of our lust made us frantic and clumsy, and for a while we struggled to find our rhythm. But suddenly our hips began moving in harmony, and she rode me with fluid grace until I couldn’t stand the pleasure. I cried out, begging her to end my torment by helping me come.
Her lissome body was slick with sweat as she picked up speed, and her perfumed hair kept brushing across my face. She was breathing heavily, almost spent from her efforts. I knew she was about to come. For a moment, in the confusion of my passion, I expected to feel the flow of Mark’s passion inside me. Mark’s cock, Celia’s cock — they became one as they both fucked me into a delirium of sweetness and pleasure — was it minutes, hours or days that passed by?
For over a year now, my affair with Celia has remained background music in my marriage. Each of my lovers complements the other — light and shadow — and the dark cloud that once threatened my happiness has been burned away by Celia’s passion, and by Mark’s abiding love. Life is wonderful. I’m so happy.
