He had to leave as we shuffled about in the kitchen together. Hours earlier we had been entangled in bedcovers, a jumble of limbs and lips in all sorts of places. I had my dressing gown on, he was dressed. We stared at each other, drinking in all the fine points that we needed to remember.
The pale dawn light was just seeping through the cracks in the blinds, casting dapples on the cold tiles. He reached for me and easily picked me up, our eyes locked together then as his lips touched mine. I wrapped my legs around his waist.
He walked a few paces so that my back was against the wall and then his mouth opened. Our tongues touched tips and then slid against each other, searching and igniting all the desire we thought had been spent upstairs.
We were insatiable, unable to stop as his fingers looped into my hair, keeping me in place so that I thought I would never breath again. In this pure moment that seemed the least of my worries. I wanted to be with him again, never leave him again, never let him leave me again. We were one!
His tongue travelled down my neck and I don’t know how, but his hand followed and crept into the wide cowel neck of my dressing gown. His fingertips searching and finding the sensitive nub of my nipple. I sighed so loudly and closed my eyes.
I felt him stagger with me across to the oak table that dominated the corner of the room. My hands helped to free him from his jeans and I could feel his solid girth.
This was going to be fast and frantic as I knew we were running out of time. My husband would be home soon and we faced discovery.
Our bodies just couldn’t stop and he plunged into me as I clawed at his back. My hands on the skin that I had earlier licked and caressed. I’d traced all his muscles and sinews like a blind person reading braille. The scars backed up the harrowing story he had told me about his marriage.
In a mere few thrusts, I was on the brink, and as he groaned, I let go of my most intense orgasm yet. I milked his cock until the searing heat of him filled me once again. We lay joined on the table until he receded from me and left an ache that filled my whole body. Empty!
But then I stiffened, the sound of an engine and tyres on the driveway. He heard them too, and quickly pulled up his jeans.
“Quick, you’ll have to leave through the front door, as he will come in at the back.” I whispered urgently. I pulled my dressing gown back around me as his semen trickled slowly down my inner thigh.
“When will I see you again?”
“I don’t know, we shouldn’t.” I shook my head, not wanting to commit to something that might never happen again.
The engine died and I quickly unlocked the front door. My mind suddenly raced to upstairs. Had I shut the spare room door? Had I thrown the extra towel from the shower we’d shared, into the washing basket? Would my husband smell the scent of another man on me? That memory nearly stalled me as I let the cold air rush in from outside.
“Quick go, follow the path round the side and slip through the hedge into our neighbour’s garden. Go along the hedge and you’ll be on the road in seconds.”
He paused and pulled me close once more, unable to let me go without another taste of my lips.
“I’ll be in touch,” he whispered and then he was gone. Shutting the door
I turned the key just as I heard the other lock click. I hurried through to the kitchen and turned on the lights.
I flicked on the kettle like I’d just woken up. It was normal for my husband to discover me making tea at the end of his night shift.
The door shut and I listened to his footsteps, it didn’t matter that my hair was a mess. What mattered was the tingling sensation I still felt on my scalp where my lover pulled my hair tight to stop me moving.
Luckily, my husband would be tired and not that observant. My lips were bruised and battered, my skin prickled from stubble rash, my cheeks blotchy and wet from the single tear that had fallen unbidden. My nipples remained rock hard and throbbed and rubbed beneath my fleecy dressing gown material.
“Hey love, couldn’t sleep again?” he asked, as he dropped his bag and shed his coat onto the nearest chair.
“Yes, I thought I’d have a cuppa and then go back upstairs. Do you want one?” I hoped I sounded my usual self.
“Please. I’m just going to unwind in the den.” He barely looked at me as he replied.
I watched him pass by the spot where I had so recently been fucked. I made the tea and took his in with a couple of biscuits before I returned upstairs.
Lying in bed, the covers cold, just like my marriage, but what could I do?
I was trapped and so was my Jase. We had been young back then, 35 years ago, young and foolish, not knowing that this was the real thing. It only became real when it was gone.
We’d both made mistakes and our lives had moved on in different directions until now. Talking in the after- glow of love making that night, neither of us could see the path ahead. It remained hidden by briars and brambles of lies, deceit and broken promises.
I finished my tea, my head pounding, my heart still thumped from how close we had come to discovery. I turned off the light and wrapped the duvet close, I had an hour to drift off before my husband would join me.
In my dreams I was with him once more, flicking back through my memories of the past and then to the night we had spent together.
Our bodies knew each other well. Our lips old friends, and longed for a reunion. We had been insatiable, but now I wanted more. But could I live with what I had done? Only time would tell.
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