Got Laid This Afternoon

[Indystudpaul]

I just had to tell someone. Thanks for listening. (First time I’ve been on this site without my diick in my hand, I think.)

[Indystudpaul]

She’s a 27 year old mother of two, a nursing grad student, we work out together at the gym—long, dark hair in a pony tail, big firm breasts, she looks great without makeup and her ass is amazing in yoga pants. The stars were just aligned for me, and it was the closest thing to the genuine no-strings fuck.

We’ve hung out at the gym for a while, and I’ve often thought I might have a chance...but I,haven’t ever crossed the line with her. Yesterday, I could tell that there was a charged energy between us. Something was different on her side. Sexual tension was crackling on my skin. ...and probably all in my head. After we jogged a couple laps together to cool down and before we headed to the shower, I ventured to ask if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee afterward. She was radiating sexual energy-which I could feel pulsing in a sudden erection-when she said “absolutely, I’ll be right back”

I walked into the locker room with a solid hard-on and a spinning head. I was sure that I was miss-interpreting the signals and that I would mess up a first date (if that’s what this was) of I went into it this horny. I ducked into the stall and rubbed out an orgasm as fast I could (which seemed to take a a frustratingly long time—images swimming in my testosterone-addled brain of my tackling this girl on my couch and us sweating a moaning together. After I came, I felt relieved and clear headed. I showered quickly and trotted out of the locker room released and ready to tell stories over Starbuck’s.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” she said, then she put her hand on my arm as I swung open the door, stretched her face up close to my ear, and whispered, “There’s no one home at my house. Follow me. Drive fast.”

[Indystudpaul]

I didn’t know where she lived, but it was close by, in a nice neighborhood. I didn’t have too much time to wonder how this was going to play out as my penis throbbed with its second hard erection in a few minutes. She parked in the little drive in front of a garage and ran into the house, leaving the front door open. (I don’t know if she was checking to be absolutely sure the place was empty, or, more likely, tidying up some mess or other that I was never going to notice.)

I pulled up the curb, took a deep breath, looked at myself in the rear view mirror, told my face not to screw it up, and walked as calmly as I could up the front walk.

[5152]

Waiting for more!!

[Indystudpaul]

She met me at the door, pulled me inside, closed the door, pushed me up against it, wrapped herself around me, and slipped her tongue into my mouth. There was no awkward moment, no pause to look around and consider what I was supposed to do-just instant, frantic passion. I don’t know if she had done this before, or if it was just instinct, but it was exactly what I needed. I’m so glad I didn’t have to make conversation while I stood around with that boner!

Clothes started to come off right there in the foyer. (I know her tank top was laying on the mat when I left.) -and we groped and stumbled our way through the house; connected together. I don’t remember how I got there, but suddenly I was standing naked in the bedroom. She ran her hand just once down the length of my penis, signed aloud, with a little shiver, and pushed me firmly backwards on top of the sheets.

I back pedeled to get myself in the middle of the mattress, not wanting to take my eyes off her as she pulled off her panties and tossed them through the open door to the bathroom. I noticed that her thighs, which are nicely plump, were perfectly smooth and round-beautifully shaped-and her stomach, though soft and faintly stretch marked, was flat and smooth. She was absolutely clean shaven-not a hint of a bush. I thought for a moment about looking for a condom, but she did not pause to lose momentum. She did not quite pounce on top of me, but it wasn’t a sultry slide, either. Her movements were hungry and urgent.

She was sitting astride me, moving her wet, hot slit against me, grinding back and forth atop my dick, which was pressed flat against my stomach. She was still wearing a purple sports bra, nipples popping underneath it, and I groped for it. She pulled it off over her head, tossed her hair back over her shoulder, gathered up her pony tail into an untidy heap behind her head, and snapped the electric band around it-still holding the bra in one hand, still grinding her hips on top of me. A band of sun slipping between the curtains was across half her face, her breasts were lifted up with her arms above her head, and she was so beautiful that I couldn’t breathe. She looked down at me, dropped the bra on the pillow beside my head, bit her bottom lip, and ran her hands down the sides of her breasts, still moving her hips as if she were on horseback. That image is burned into my mind, and I hope never to forget it.

Her chest was not perfect like a magazine model, but it was gorgeous-a mother’s chest with a bit of sag and some stretch marks, but full and smooth with tiny perfectly shaped nipples. I grabbed her waist, pulled myself up, and started to kiss her breasts. She moaned and arched her back for 30 seconds—and that was all the foreplay I was going to get. She pushed me back down, put her hands on my shoulders, and deftly slid her hips forward to align us, and slipped me inside her.

[Indystudpaul]

She did pause for a moment and slowly settled herself on to me-like she wanted to be careful with that maneuver-but she was so wet that there was no real resistance, and she had the angle just right with no fumbling. Then she started riding me smooth and fast.

This was not at all how I had imagined this going down, and Imwas suddenly conscious of how turned on I was-and the fact that I had blown a load not ten minutes before. I felt like I might cum instantly and I hardly dared to breathe or move. She was sitting up, her eyes closed, hands resting loosely against her thighs and my waist, pumping back and forth, smoothly swinging her hips in a circular motion, moaning and saying, repeatedly, “come on, come on...don’t hold back.” I was holding back for all I was worth. I put my hands on her breasts and gently cupped and caressed with her rhythm as I concentrated on relaxing my pelvic muscles and I counted in my head, focused on not finishing too soon.

It felt so good. She looked so good. I wanted to extend that moment. I didn’t want to embarrass myself or disappoint her; couldn’t live with myself if I ruined this. I kept counting silently, as slowly as I could manage, until I got to 300. She had shifted her position and changed her speed several times, and I felt like I was well past the “two-pump chump” stigma. She put her hands on mine on her breasts and looked down at me. “Come on. Don’t hold back. Give it to me.” I started to thrust into her, began to lose control of my breathing and the noises I was making. She arched her back, and shouted- positively shouted!- “yes! Yes! Yes!” With the first few deep thrusts. She put her hands behind her head and bounced up and down, breaking her perfect smooth rhythm, almost sobbing her “yes! Yes!” As her face twisted.

As I was morning and thrusting upward against that receptive body, getting ready to savor the big finish, I remembered, almost too late, that there was no condom. I tapped my palms on her waist and panted, “get off. Get off.” Her eyes popped open, she smiled as if delighted, then positively hopped up and off; falling to the bed on my left side with a bounce and (seriously) a little girl’s giggle. She reached over, her knee overlapping my thigh, one breast spilling over my chest, her hair in my face, and stroked my penis three or four times before I exploded. She squeezed and tugged repeatedly as I spilled over her hand, moaning deeply and writhing as if she were the one reaching orgasm instead of me. Then she sighed and flopped over, laying flat on her back, legs spread, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Her dry hand patted my thigh twice as if she was saying, “good boy.”

[Indystudpaul]

My head was still spinning and I wasn’t sure what just happened. In my mind, I had long fantasized about getting this single mom alone in a nice hotel room, slowly building her up, working whatever magic my hands and tongue could to pleasure her before I penetrated, satisfying her as no had for a long time... Now I was stupidly wishing I could look at my watch to figure out if I had lasted even five minutes. It was particularly stupid because I knew already that this was some of the best sex I’d ever had—who cares how fast it was?

She reached up with her sticky hand, pulled the sports bra out from under her head, and tossed it at the foot of the bed. That motion broke my trance and .i rolled onto my side to caress and kiss her gorgeous breasts now piled on top of her heaving chest. I pulled myself against her and found that I was automatically rubbing myself against her hips, my half-hard, slippery penis sliding up and down against the smooth, warm skin near her waist.

I could feel myself swelling and stiffening and my instinct told me that I should not pause before starting again-Press on while you can! I slid my left hand off her breast, my tongue slowly circling around a tiny nipple in the middle of a seemingly huge tit, and ran my fingers down her stomach, slipping one into her perfectly smooth and hairless pussy. She reached down and gently-with fingers sticky from my cum-pulled my hand away and placed it on her stomach.

So, I pulled myself on top of her, positioning my knees inside of hers, put on hand next to her ear and reached down with the other to align myself.

[Indystudpaul]

She looked into my eyes, looked away, and said, “Not from the front. I don’t know you well enough.” I hesitated, she looked back at me, smiled quickly, then pushed me up and away as she flopped herself over, stuffing one pillow under her pelvis and embracing the other under her chin—a motion she seemed to be familiar with. I climbed back on top, breathing quickly now-suddenly the anxious one feeling urgent while she relaxed. She pushed her ass up into the air as I settled my knees outside of her thighs this time and I held my penis as I searched with the tip for the right angle.

I slid the tip in between her pressed-together thighs and found the wet, familiar opening. She moved her hips back and forth and reached awkwardly down under her pelvis to touch my shaft and settle into the right position. She gave short little moans into the pillow as I tentatively made short slow thrusts before sliding myself in as far as I could go and lowering myself down with my hands on the mattress under her armpits. I started to stoke smoothly and slowly, tightly strapped between her thighs and half inside her-as tight as a young girl from this angle. She made a few sharp noises like I might have hurt her mildly, but followed each one with something muffled but affirmative as she seemed to be biting the pillow.

[Indystudpaul]

Now that I had the upper hand, so to speak, and some control over the situation, I had a chance to look around the room. It was very neat and tastefully decorated. There was a photo of a nursing graduation on the wall, a large family photo from a reunion of some kind next to a close up of a little boy dressed as a ring bearer, a Bible on the nightstand...and a photo of her in her wedding dress next to her groom. There were other photos of her hudpsband, too.

She wears a diamond ring, and I had met her two little boys (maybe 2 and 4 years), but when Imhad asked about her husband she had always been flatly dismissive; leading me to assume he wa out of the picture. She had also always been just flirty enough to advertise that she was available. But there were definitely men’s clothing visible through the open closet door and untidy “guy stuff” on the top of the dresser. She was, apparently, much more married than I knew! No wonder she didn’t want me to treat her like a single mom or a honeymoon virgin.

The knowledge of that suddenly present husband, his face smiling at me from inside a frame, lit a fire inside me. My enjoyment of this crazy, spontaneous ride and my desire to fuck this girl’s brains out were suddenly rushing in my ears and Imbecame aware of short barks of laughter hidden in my gasping grunts as I pulled myself up onto my toes and started thrusting harder and deeper, still gripping her thighs together with my knees as I slap, slap, slapped loudly against her full, firm ass. The mattress started to walk back and forth and her body slid forward and back as I pushed into and pulled out of her—her hair shifting untidily and the tantalizing side lobes of her boobs jiggling. I could hear her gasping “yes, yes,” and, suddenly, my name started slipping out with the muffled noises from inside the pillow: “Paul! Yes, Paul! Ohhh...Paaaaaul!” That was all I could handle, and I started to double-down-breaking my rhythm to thrust in hard, deep, staccato pushes with a minute pause at the deepest penetration; reaching up as far inside as I could, willing my orgasm to the surface, resolved to finish inside her.

But I couldn’t quite get there. This felt wonderful: smooth and wet, warm and intimate, powerful and satisfying. Every hard thrust shifted the mattress backward and the soft, yielding body under forward as I slapped against that up thrust backside and I let out a sharp grunt like that moment of maximum effort lifting a weight as an involuntary “oof” was expelled into the pillow. Then I held the pressure for a moment as my grunt dropped an octave into an “ahh” that blended with her soft moan. Then I pulled backward hard-almost, but not quite all the way out-her body pulled backward as the mattress slammed forward against the wall and the husband’s portrait rattled and my name became a soft moan of pleasure or anticipation: “Paul. Yes.” Before the next slap! and the next “oof.” ...but I had cum twice in short succession, had pumped myself dry. I could not quite reach the point of ignition, couldn’t start that fizzing fuse inside my pelvis that led to apthe inevitable explosion. In fact, I could feel myself starting to get softer as my momentum slowed and the mattress hit the wall with less energy and at greater intervals.

I wasn’t going to manage a third time...that was OK. This was enough. I was a man. I was astride a beautiful, willing woman who had desired me. I had desired her and fantasized over her and she had given herself to me without any persuasion. No, she had taken me, seized me, used me. I was giving her obvious pleasure. I was, at least for the moment, a better man than her husband. I was in possession of a forbidden pleasure. I was the master of a body not meant for me, the recipient of moans and cries willingly offered to me but stolen from another, for the moment a lesser, man. It didn’t matter if I finished again. I was deep inside another man’s wife on a Saturday afternoon.

[Indystudpaul]

...not deep enough. That was the problem. This position made for a tight penetration, but not a deep one. I needed to change my angle. I needed to get a hold of those tantalizing round breasts. Pausing my motion, breathing short and fast through my nose, My hands suddenly shaking in repressed tension, I pulled her hips toward me as I dropped first one knee and then the other to the bed, pushing her feet and knees into the right position (turning her toes inward to lay atop my ankles as I knelt behind her) as she breathed deeply and hard-limp and compliant. I pulled her up onto all fours, her hair mostly loose now and spilling to one side as her head came up. I pulled her onto me, rather than thrusting into her, and held her tight against me as felt the tip of my penis brush against the ribbed folds of her cervix. She moaned and trembled, her legs shaking like jelly as I pushed into and pulled her waist into me.

As I started to thrust slowly and deeply, my once-again hard penis curving upward against the back of her open, relaxed channel, she shuddered and sobbed with pleasure. As I thrust a little faster, still smooth and deep, the muscles in her pelvis began to squeeze around me then release and the noises she made became less coherent, more primal or animal.

I felt like I could thrust for an hour in this new position and I settled in to a medium-fast rhythm, not slapping anymore, reaching forward to cup her dangling breasts as she shuddered and sobbed into what I hoped was a long, lingering orgasm. Her thighs trembled and her hips seemed to vibrate up and down with a fast, uneven frequency. Her arms were shaking at yet a third frequency as I caressed her chest and slid deep with each motion.

She reached for my left hand and stuffed three fingers of it into her mouth, sucking them as her tongue played quickly back and forth and in and out against my finger tips. She would suck in on my fingers as Imdrew myself backward, then bite down (not too hard) as I thrust; short, high pitched gasps escaping through her clenched jaw.

As I was straightening up to an upright position, I had felt a fresh breeze gusting against my sweat-soaked chest and shoulders. Now I noticed that the thin, filmy curtain was blowing, billowing into the room. The window was open. Now that I thought about it, I had heard noises from outside: wind chimes and passing vehicles...voices? Was that why she buried her face in the pillow? Was that why she was clenching her teeth around my fingers? Had she noticed the open window while laying on her back? It was a sunny, Saturday afternoon in July. The temperature was in the low seventies, cooler than it had been in a week. Neighbors would be on their porches. Their own windows would be open. It wasn’t just that smiling photograph of her husband watching us. The outside world might hear us.

By this point, I could feel the fizz inside my throbbing organ, but the fuse wasn’t burning down. I could feel pressure inside me-like a full bladder that had been too full for too long so that I couldn’t quite start emptying upon command-that third orgasm was welling up with too much pressure to find an easy release.

I pulled my hand free. I grabbed her waist and pulled her against me, feeling her strong muscles tighten around me and squeeze with steady pressure as I held full penetration. Then I started to thrust hard. Slap, slap, slap. Her hair was swaying back and forth, trailing against the pillow. Her breasts were bouncing. Her shuddering was more controlled, all in one frequency. And she started to moan. “Come on,” I said, “don’t hold back.” Then louder: “come on Sarah. Let it out. Louder!”

She started to moan aloud now; followed by loud cries of pleasure. Her back arched and her trembling stopped and head came back. She was clenching me hard as I thrust faster inside her. I realized that I was making strange noises too, just as my name rang out, just once, loud and clear: “Paul! Yes. Yes! Oooooh, yes!” My name almost stopped me in my tracks and she called out, head still back and her hips continuing the fast thrusting Imhad paused, “don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop!”

I was suddenly relaxed. My head was clear. The tension in my pelvis was gone and I realized that I could finish at will at the moment of my choosing. I started to thrust again, hard but slow. “Yes. Yes. Yes!” She said, louder than before. “Yes,” I said softly, “yes, don’t hold back.” Then, almost in a whisper I said, “who’s fucking you Sarah?” “Yes, Yes!” was the reply, Almost screaming now. Still quietly and gently I repeated, “Who’s fucking You Sarah?” “Paul! Paul! Oh yes, Paul!”

That was it, I was all in, grunting and sweating and slinging my hips as fast as could-thrusting like some 16 year jockafter the Prom. The bed was hitting the wall harder! “Thump, thump, thump.” Her tits were slapping softly against her ribs, “plump, plump, plump. That round, plump ass was slapping wetlands against me, “slap, slap, slap.” ...and her voice was now nearly screaming, “Paul! Paul! PAUL!” Her voice only came in gasps as the thrust went home, deep inside her, but with each thrust my name got louder: “thump, slap, PAUL!”

Our two connected bodies were now swaying back and forth madly on the wildly gyrating bed like an out of control train careening toward a spectacular crash. Now more in control, she turned her head as best she could to look at me as best she could and shouted in a loud, commanding tone, “fuck me! Fuck me, Paul!” I leaned forward. Her arms gave out and she collapsed onto the mattress, still on her knees, still jerking her hips up and down as fast as she could, her palms on the bed, her chest pressed flat, her head turned sideways, my cheek against her shoulder as I painted and thrust, letting go of all the pent up orgasm.

As she said said it a second time, in a softer but more urgent tone, “fuck me, Paul!” I let it all go, feeling the hot load-more than a few drops, even though it was the third-pumping into her over the course of 5 or 6 full-speed slapping thrusts as I heard myself shout something like “aaaaaa-aaaaaaa-aaaaaa- Yes!”

We were both panting, more or less, cheek to cheek, as the combined motion of both of our hips coasted down to a long slow stop, like the churning, spinning drive shaft and fly wheel of that derailed locomotive; panting, whistling sighs escaping from us like clouds of steam from the piled up wreckage.

Then it took us a few awkward, fumbling moments to disentangle ourselves and find a way to stretch out. I spooned up behind her as she rolled on her side and she drew me by the arms against her, lifting up her left leg to let my still stiff penis settle between her thighs. We lay there for long moments, both breathing deeply, my hands cupped around her breasts and her hands cupped around mine. Our skins stuck together with sweat, we curled up, my knees pressed behind hers and my limp, wet penis squeezed tight between her thighs.