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Dianna, Lynn, and I were close friends. We were a sort of three Musketeers: we hung out together, we drank, we hiked together, we paddled sea kayaks together. Lynn was my wife; Dianna often joked that she was my second wife. Sure, I would say, all of the headaches and none of the pleasure.

Lynn and I were a match made in heaven. Everything in life that was important to me was equally important to her, from our politics to our values, our love of the natural world to our experience as outdoor leaders. In our years together, we have gone on extended sea kayak expeditions around the world, skied for a month at a time north of the Arctic Circle, hiked the 100 tallest peaks of New York and New England, and back-packed the Pacific Crest Trail. My 40th birthday was staring me down, which meant that Lynn was 35. If we were going to have a family, now seemed like the time. And whenever she could, Dianna joined in our adventures.

The pregnancy was going along smoothly, with one minor hitch: Lynn lost virtually all interest in sex.

I misspoke when I wrote that we were a match made in heaven. The one chink in the armour of our marriage was that I craved sex daily, at the very least, and Lynn was satisfied with every other week. The “sensitive guy” in me learned to not push her when she was not in the mood. When we made love, it was incredible; but in the interim, that meant that I was often crawling the walls with the desire for release. I got used to quite literally taking matters into my own hands. The thought of looking for gratification elsewhere never crossed my mind…well, it crossed my mind, but there was absolutely no intent to pursue an alternative.

Five months into the pregnancy, and nearly two months since our last intimacy, I was seriously considering taking a vow of chastity.

Lynn was determined to keep her physical fitness up as long as possible. One winter evening, after a day of skiing up Acadia National Park’s Penobscot Mountain with Dianna, the three of us went to the Thirsty Whale for the best blackened fish sandwich north of the Mason-Dixon Line. Having a guaranteed designated driver for nine months, I was taking every advantage of it. So was Dianna, who lived in the apartment over the studio at the back of our property just outside of Bar Harbor. Dianna and I were matching each other, Dark-and-Stormy for Dark-and-Stormy. At 1:00 a.m., we were the last customers out. Dianna and I were singing drunken sea shanties to keep Lynn awake for the drive home.

Two things happen when I drink: I don’t sleep deeply, but I wake up in the middle of the night, after only a few hours, feeling well-rested; and I am incredibly horny.

By the time we reached our Long-and-winding Road home, Dianna and I were both sloshing around in our Wellies. Rather than have her tromp through the new snow to her apartment and have to get her woodstove going, we offered her our guest room.

Once in bed, Lynn was more fidgety than ever. Always a fidgety sleeper, pregnancy has exacerbated the problem…well, it is only a problem for me. Inevitably, I stumble into the guest room to sleep. This night Zonguldak Escort was no exception, except that I had the presence of mind to know that Dianna was sleeping in the guest room, so I stumbled, quite literally, down the stairs to the living room couch, where I promptly fell asleep.

My alcohol-induced dreams were all about sex: my wife had gotten horny, had come down the stairs to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, saw me on the couch, and decided to give me a beautiful surprise. She worked my penis out of the front opening in my boxers, and proceeded to swallow it to the base. The feeling of her mouth, working up and down the shaft of my six-inch staff, was exquisite! I could tell this was going to be one of those memorable dreams, where I wake up and try to figure out if it was real or a dream.

As I slowly roused, I tried to stay in that dream state: I did not want to lose this incredibly erotic feeling. As I struggled to keep the dream going, I slowly moved my hand down to finish the job. Funny, but it met with resistance. Something was in the way. No, something was repetitively bumping into my hand. Now I struggled against the dream, trying to wake up. What was going on? There was a head bobbing up and down on my turgid shaft.

Lacing my fingers in her hair did not give me any clues in the dark. Was this my wife, who seems to have lost all interest in sex with her pregnancy? Was it Dianna? Lynn and Dianna are both similarly built: about 5-foot-eight; 165 pounds of female fitness; long, straight, soft hair down to the middle of the back. The big difference was in the chest: Lynn was on the small size of a B cup while Dianna was pushing a D.

Running my fingers through the mystery woman performing miracles on my penis elicited an encouraging hum of pleasure. The more I stroked her hair, the more she hummed. But that hum sounded just a bit off! I was now wide awake. Despite my extreme horniness, I was scared to death about what it would mean if this was Dianna. Sure, I had used a mental image of her on more than one occasion to help me with my masturbatory relief, but fantasy is different than reality, and the reality is that I am married to a wonderful woman and am soon going to be a father.

If it is, indeed, Lynn, I definitely do not want to do anything to dissuade her from her oral ministrations. On the other hand, if it is not, I have to do something! Oh what to do….

I decided on a compromise. Moving my massaging hand slowly around to her front, I caressed a breast that was definitely unfamiliar. BINGO! I gently but inexorably raised her off of me.

Quietly, nearly in a whisper, I asked, “Dianna, what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry; I came down to go to the bathroom and I saw you on the couch. All of the alcohol had made me horny. The blanket had fallen off of you and I have always been curious about you, so I had to look. And when I looked, I had to touch it. I knew from the way Lynn sometimes talks about how all you ever want is sex that you were probably frustrated as hell, and in my drunken stupor, I convinced myself that Zonguldak Escort Bayan this would be my present to you. Please don’t hate me.”

“Dianna, I don’t hate you, but we can’t do this. It will ruin everything.”

Despite my protestations, my cock was sticking to its single-minded purpose of release. I slowly began to notice that Dianna’s hand was still loosely wrapped around my member, which was rhythmically pulsing with desire. Damn, but that did feel good to have someone else’s hand there for a change.

Dianna noticed, too.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked.

Damned if I do and eternally regretful if I don’t.

“Listen, I think I know the turmoil you are going through right now,” she said. “But think about this: you have a physical need that is not being met; you have a willing partner who will take any secrets to the grave, a partner who has no desire to come between you and your wife…. And I want you! I have wanted you for a long time. If you will have me, we will have to be discreet. I do not want anything to come between the relationship you and Lynn and I have. If you will have me, then you can have me any time you want….”

This was too much for my poor, sex-deprived, alcohol-heightened horniness. A man can only take so much, especially when a beautiful woman is holding his penis.

My hips started to slowly, almost imperceptibly, or so I thought, begin to thrust. Dianna’s grip tightened accordingly.

“You won’t regret this, I promise,” she said.

She took me back into her mouth. OH MY GAWD!!! I so desperately needed this! Up and down her mouth went, working a magic on my cock that I had long hoped to experience. She was able to take the whole thing in her mouth, then slowly lift her head, her lips trailing a tight circle around my shaft, until just then head was covered, then the inexorable plunge down. Up and down. Down and up. I could not imagine any more pleasure.

After five minutes of this beautiful blow job, Dianna finally pulled her mouth off without a sound. She sidled up next to my head, leant over, and slowly, sensuously, put her lips on mine. It always turns me on to kiss a woman after my dick has been in her mouth. Dianna’s lips were so different than Lynn’s, fuller, maybe a little softer, certainly they tasted different.

As we kissed, lips locked, tongues dancing, darting, the tips dueling in a coy dance of exploration, she slowly angled her body, swinging her leg from her kneeling position next to me up and over my body. I wrapped my arms around her, running my hands up and down her back in a sensual massage, expanding the range of my hands with each pass. Meanwhile, she was lying prostrate atop me, grinding her hips into mine, her breasts a soft pressure on my chest. At the same moment that my hands moved down to the top of her ass, an ass that I just then realized was naked, Dianna raised her grinding hips higher than she had, and when they came down, in one fell swoop my engorged rod penetrated to her depths.

We slowly humped, my cock feeling as though it is about to explode, feeling Escort Zonguldak a joy that it has too long been denied. The moistness of Dianna’s pussy lubricating every nuanced movement our genitals made.

She whispered in my ear, “Raise your hips off the couch for a moment.”

The tricky, fore-sighted devil that she is, she managed, somehow, without pulling off of my penis, to slide a towel beneath us. “I tend to leak a lot of fluid,” she said in answer to my unasked question. “And we do not want to stain your couch, do we?”

That maneuver complete, we continued our love-making, for that is what it was. We loved each other as close, close friends. In some ways, because we had shared so much over the years, this was, indeed, the logical next step, albeit a step we should never have taken. But now that we had, there was no going back.

There was no denying the passion we both felt as we made love. Dianna’s hips pumping in unison with mine. Me sliding in and out of her female center. Thrusting. Grinding. Our bodies held in a tight embrace.

After a long time of this gentle love-making, I finally whispered in her ear, “Dianna, I am going to cum soon.”

“Please cum inside of me,” she whispered back.

That was all I needed to hear, her permission to fill her with my seed. I put my hands on her hips, pulling her tight into me, and started to cum, a cum that I so desperately needed. As I held her hips tight, grinding and cuming, Dianna began to cum, too. She bit into the pillow next to my head, whimpering, her body convulsing.

After a few moments, her body still wracked with orgasmic spasms, she lifted her head. I could tell she was crying. Alarmed, I asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said, “It’s just that that was one of the most beautiful orgasms I have ever had. These are tears of joy. I love you….”

We laid there, our bodies relaxing, my penis softening inside of her, our mixed secretions dripping out of her sodden pussy and down between my legs. Good thing she had the foresight to put a towel down. With her mouth near my ear, she quietly said, “I love you. This is the love I have always had for you, and the love I will always have for you. This is a love of two people who know they cannot ever be together as husband and wife, but, maybe, something just shy of that. I will never come between you and Lynn, but I need you just the same. I hope that I have not scared you and that you love me.”

I held Dianna in a relaxed embrace that told her everything was alright. The minutes slipped away. I arched my hips to keep my deflated penis from slipping out of her. She flexed the muscles of her pussy in acknowledgement. “I love you, Dianna” I said.

She slowly lifted her body up on her arms, flexing backwards at her waist in order to keep herself impaled on me as long as possible. Finally, she put her foot on the floor and stood up. While she went into the bathroom to clean up, I stepped outside to pee. Afterwards, I picked up a handful of snow to scrub some of the sex off myself.

Back inside, we met in the kitchen, where we embraced in a loving hug. “That was beautiful,” I told her. “Thank you.”

Dianna returned to the guest room; I returned to the couch. Several hours later, as the winter sun cast its first tentative rays on the snow-clad landscape, I was the first in the house to awake. I was at a sexual peace I had not known for a long time.

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