Relationships grow stale over time, it is almost bound to happen. The few exceptions have other drawbacks, your average Bonny and Clyde might make it a little further but it is a bloody path that doesn't exactly lead uphill. An open marriage might work for a while, but that grows stale even quicker once you realize it is not the sex you crave, but rather the taboo.
What use is cheating if your husband is okay with it? Heck, if he even likes to watch? No, that would never work. And in a weird way it is great that my husband is so uptight, it makes it so much better to know I am a bad girl and that he has the moral high ground. I need that, I need to look at him with love in my eyes after I just looked at someone else with sex in them and feel his arms around me as we talk about our days, cook dinner and fall asleep on the couch. Maybe even sleep with him, my own juices not the only lubrication.
I know it is bad to even think like this, let alone plan or put those plans into action but I just can't help myself. He is away for work a lot, days and sometimes even a week and I am left home alone, alone with my thoughts and enough time to spice my life up a little every now and then.
I look good, a fair amount of that free time goes into workouts and long cycling trips down to the coast, to relax and rekindle my creativity as much as to meet tourists, show them around the local attractions so to speak.
It is a good day, windy and rainy with a proper storm on the horizon and there are only a few people on the beach. The sand is not so hard to walk on when it rains, the wind in my face drenched in water and salt and my hair is as wet as if I had put my head under water by the time I feel like turning around.
But there is someone on the horizon, a man of upright posture who walks along the beach lost in thought. I can't help but find that attractive, a man who can enjoy the beach when most find it incredibly boring and a waste of time. Not him, you can see that. As he comes closer I see a dreamy smile on his face, I'm not even sure if he sees me. He hears me though, smiles back and quickly returns to reality.
"To you as well. What a lovely day it is, eh?"
The way he says that makes me incredibly horny, I bet he is also the kind of guy who says 'Oi!' when a cyclist passes him too closely and probably even leads conversations instead of chatting. He belongs here, a man with a certain, hard to describe character just like the beach itself. It might be a rocky beach full of pebbles rather than a sunny Spanish beach full of bikinis and sunbathers, with a beauty lost to most and embraced by just a few. Like him.
"The perfect weather for a long walk as well. Where do you come from?"
He gestures to the far end. "Sandburg, I stay at the Lighthouse Inn."
Not too shabby, that's at least a three hour walk and he doesn't look as if he rushed anything today.
"That is pretty far."
"I know, I forgot time a little. In fact I better turn around now, make it back before it gets dark."
Sensible, but also unacceptable. I have just found him, and I am not going to let him off the hook already.
"Or you could come with me, I live just over the dune. I have coffee and tea and a fire to warm up."
He smiles, a slight bit mysterious and a whole lot of hot. He is dressed in a well tailored windbreaker and dark black pants that seem to have some kind of waxing to keep the rain out, and he fits them both incredibly well. You could take a picture of him just strolling down the beach and slap it on the cover of some outdoor magazine. He has the look, the clothes, the slightly scruffy beard and even the knitted cap to go along with everything. And those eyes, they see more than the average person. I could bet he is either a painter or writer, analyzing the way the waves form or trying to find fitting words to describe the woman he just met.
"How could I say no to that?", he says with a smile about as laid-back as the hands in his pockets.
As we start walking I realize I should probably ask for his name, I guess it's the sensible thing to do.
"Oh, it's Jake."
Well, I can work with Jake. Not exactly Eduardo or Jesus Alverdo, and thank god for that. Who wants a sunburned player when they can have a pale intellectual? And after all I'm just a Svenja, not exactly a Marilyn either.
We make our way back in silence, or rather the words we exchange don't seem to matter much. It is a comfortable silence, we stop to pick up shells and throw pebbles into the water and probe each other for shared interests but when we reach the house all I have really learned about him is that he will do nicely.
I take his jacket, give him a towel to dry his hair and offer something to drink, a bit to eat maybe? Tea would be nice, and yes he is hungry and soon enough I have sliced bread, corned beef and a whole can of steaming hot green tea on the table between us.
"So, when do you expect your husband back?"
I probably should feel ashamed, but instead I can't help but chuckle.
"You are very perceptive, Mister. Wild guess?"
"I want to say educated guess, corned beef is more of a man's thing and I didn't get the impression it was you who started the can as you have barely touched it since we started. It's the kind of stuff you either devour or don't care much about."
"Not bad at all. Okay, I don't expect Steven to be back until the day after tomorrow, you have all the time in the world."
I like how I manage to tip his balance a little, as much as that is the equivalent of waving a massive fuck-me sign around there is still a tiny bit of ambiguity I could hide behind and he is not sure how to deal with either option. Ultimately Jake decides he has little to lose and leans forward.
"You know, I like to think that I have quite high morals."
I lean in as closely as I can without falling over, a slight smile on my face.
"You could treat me as inspiration for your next book."
There is that smile again, the way he reacts to surprises with a certain open mind instead of the usual fear of the uncertain.
"You are quite perceptive yourself, what gave me away?"
I have him, it is easy to see. He just needs a little more convincing, but I said something right and challenged his mind as much as his body.
"Your eyes, I wasn't sure if painter or writer but you see what most would glance over, if that makes sense."
What I see is that my words make him happy, maybe even a little bit of that same enticing feeling of a kindred spirit, someone bored by everyone around them because no one can seem to challenge us. Yes, that is exactly it, a man who can resist everything but an open mind and a woman who has a hard time resisting anything but for once sees a chance to truly enjoy it.
I get up, and so does he. We meet in the middle between couch and seat and share a kiss, strong and rough and feeling more like fighters testing each other than anything else. I draw him with me, I have the perfect spot for the perfect man.
The wind hits our faces as we step onto the patio, the wood slippery from rain and sticky from all the sand the wind has brought. The rain has slowed down, but it is still too cold to stay outside without a jacket or thick woolen pullover. Perfect to undress and get butt-naked.
Jake does not undress me, nor do I touch him or even come close until we are both naked. Our clothes form two piles, then once more we meet in the middle. This time his kiss feels warm and soft, caring in a way I haven't felt with any of the men I have fucked in the past year. Not overly romantic, but he does make me feel special in a way Steven never could. I can see he understands me, feels that I need that certain bit of roughness without being treated like a whore. His fingers are gentle enough to make me purr and rough enough to make me gasp for air.
I can't discern between his touches and the rain running down on my skin, one so cold it hurts and the other so hot it hurts when they leave me for another spot. I need him, his strong arms pressing me tightly against him and his dick squeezed between our bodies. I know I want more, but at the same time I could just stay like that, two people kneeling in front of each other in a tight embrace to heal wounds we didn't know we had.
As he moves down to guide himself into me I can't help myself, a moan escaping my lips that feels embarrassing enough to make me laugh immediately afterwards. His size is decent, big even but it is not what excites my body the most. No, that would be his fingers, the rough skin on his tips that scratch me as much as he caresses me. My pussy is wet, but the rain makes it sticky, each of his thrusts twice as hard on my composure and they would be enjoyable even without that.
I don't see much of his face, not with the way my chin rests on his shoulders. I don't see much of the beach grass, gray sky and the rain either, too blurry is my vision between his thrusts to really focus on anything. And so I let myself fall, quite literally. My arms around his shoulders are all I do to stay upright, the whole rest is for Jake to handle. And boy does he handle me, it just doesn't seem to stop. He sticks to a weird rhythm, two long and powerful thrusts, then a half one and yet somehow each of them keeps surprising me, my mind unable to follow or adapt. I can't even say when I came or if it was just once, what I can say is that it is the first time I truly forgot about Steven. Normally he is somewhere there, buried deep in the back of my mind as a slight reminder that I'm married but now he is just not there.
At some point I feel Jake coming, that certain tension in muscles, the way he clenches me more than he holds me and the rhythm that changes to an even less predictable pattern. I could pull away, finish him with my tongue or motion him to splatter my tits but I just don't. It's not even that I explicitly want him to come inside me, just that I have no preference or even opinion anymore. He stiffens up, his dick twitches, cum floods into me and a deep groan reaches my ear but I notice it all through a fog of rain and pleasure.
We don't let go of each other until I feel his dick soften up inside me, and even then it is only a physical distance between us as we get up, grab our clothes and move inside.
It is only once we get into the warmth that the shivering starts, that my mind catches up to the cold outside and the things we have done. I move close to the fire, sitting down in front of it with my knees pulled up to my chest and my arms around them. Jake sits down next to me and a blanket embraces the two of us. The carpet tickles my sensitive skin, his fingers tickle my sides as he pulls me tight and his lips on my neck feel like ice cream on a hot summer day. Sweet lies covering up an ugly truth, just what a girl needs on a day like today.
I look at him and smile, trying to say something but my mind still isn't at the height of its game.
"You are a special one, but you know that, don't you?"
And so is he, but I don't have to say it for him to understand. Even being around him feels as if we are still out there, as if he is pounding my mind instead of my body now and all I can think of is that no matter how much I get of him it won't be enough.
And so I sink down, my head in his lap while he brushes my hair, his hands on my tits and his fingers in my mouth before I replace them with a still slightly soft dick. He tastes like a good beer, strong and dark and a little bitter, nostalgic and melancholic and telling stories to your tongue. Stories of love and pain, pleasure and regret and as my head moves up to catch a breath it feels like a final goodbye to a friend you have known for decades.
We reunite once more, but only briefly before Jake pulls me up, kisses my lips and whispers something that probably makes sense before we end up on the floor together. The blanket on top of us hides our misdemeanor to the world as he slides into me. I put my right leg over him, use my heel to pull him closer as if he needed any convincing and then we get lost in each other, his dick feeding my pussy five star meals with appetizers and dessert. It is like that sweet slumber after you wake up and decide to just stay in bed, another hour void of responsibilities.
I get up, his sperm dripping down my thighs as I put another log on the fire. He looks at me, an interest in his eyes that hasn't left now that we have sufficiently fucked each other's brains out. He does not see the slut everyone else sees in me once we are done but rather a woman who like him has special needs few can fulfill.
I lend him a hand to get up and pick up his clothes for him, helping him into them and buttoning his shirt to steal a few more touches.
"I can drive you home if you like."
He smiles at me and kisses me again.
"That would be sweet, I bet my wife is already worried sick."