Lover No. Three

I’ve had numerous emails over the past month asking if there is a Lover No. 3. Yes there is . . . although I don’t meet with him as regularly as No’s 1 and 2 . . . this “recollection” is from the last occasion we were able to get-together late last year . . .

One of the advantages of now having both the children away on their studies is having the freedom of our house back again. Not only in the evenings when we can come home from work and wander about in various states of undress as we please, but having long, and noisy passionate, lie-ins on the weekends. AND having the opportunity of taking an occasional duvet-day during the week . . . a day off work and being able to “indulge” without fear of interruption or discovery.

I’d been exchanging texts throughout the week with No. 3, him telling me how desperate he was to see me, me complaining back that he never seemed to be able make the evenings I was free. He is a sports therapist so much of his work is in the early evenings when his clients are most usually available. I teased him that I was planning to spend a day working from home during the week and he texted back that he had no appointments on Thursday morning. I immediately replied “could I book a massage?”.

Hubby brought me in tea and toast in bed that morning, instead of us breakfasting together in the kitchen as we normally would. He joked “if I leave the key under the mat you could just lie-in till he arrives”. But I replied “I have to shower silly. I need to feel fresh and clean” He kissed his goodbye telling me “just don’t shower afterwards, you know I prefer you NOT to be fresh and clean!!!”

I quickly changed the bedclothes and tidied up the bedroom before taking my shower. I always love the feel of the jets of water splashing over me as I shower, but of course, it feels even better with the excitement and anticipation of knowing what is possibly to come. I’d initially allowed more than enough time to be doing my hair and make-up, but I’d then spent rather longer in the shower than I should have . . . so suddenly felt a bit rushed as I realised the time. It was still cold and wet outside, but warm in the house with the heating on so I chose a summery cotton dress, loose and comfortable . . . and, of course, I wasn’t going to need any knickers . . .

The doorbell rang just after 9. I’ve entertained him at our home on lots of occasions over the past few years (I’ve also visited his house on one or two occasions very early on in our relationship, but never felt entirely at ease there so we usually meet at a local Holiday Inn). I made him coffee and we sat in the front room chatting for quite some time, just catching-up on news of both our sets of children, and things going on at his work.

We’d been talking for almost an hour I think, before he asked “are you still up for that massage?”.
“Of course” I giggled back. “Let’s go upstairs, I’ve got my scented-oils out for you”.
We stood kissing by the bed as I closed the bedroom door behind us. He ran his hands down over my hips and then up under my skirt, whispering his excitement into my ear as he discovered my bare bum cheeks. We kissed for a few moments more before I raised my arms so he could lift my dress up over my head. I was already unbuttoning his shirt as my dress fell to the floor. I pulled it off his own shoulders and reached for his belt but he pushed me gently away and told me to lay down on the bed.
“On your stomach” he said as I’d just flopped down onto my back at first. “Where is your oil?” he asked.
“It’s on the dressing table” I replied as I obediently rolled over onto my tummy.
I gasped as I felt the first squeeze of his oiled palms on my shoulders . . . and then lowered my head forward onto the pillow as I let myself go to his squeezing and kneading. He really does give a wonderful, relaxing, massage (it’s part of his job of course) and I loved the total feeling of relaxation as his hands worked over my neck, shoulders, back and then down over my thighs and the backs of my legs.

It was just a complete massage at first . . . for over 20 minutes he told me, turning me over onto my back to massage my shoulders, arms, waist and then down over my hips and legs again. No sexual stimulation at all, my breasts and pubes completely untouched, just so relaxing and warming and continuous as he turned me over onto my tummy again.
As I buried my face into the pillow again, I noticed a pause in his kneading. I opened one eye, not feeling I wanted to move my cheek from the pillow. I closed it again as I felt him kneel onto the bed beside me now and felt his hands on my back again. He was working his hands down to the small of my back and then over the cheeks of my bottom, kneading and rubbing my cheeks gently in circular motions. I felt more oil and a sudden dribbling as his hands gently lifted my legs further apart. My gasps became louder now as I felt fingers spreading the oil down between my cheeks . . . and then between and under my pelvis. I felt myself almost involuntarily spreading my lips for him, as though my pussy had a will of its own. I knew I was groaning quite loudly now as I felt his fingers pushing further forward and up . . . or was it me squirming myself down against them.
“Ohh, how many have you . . . ?” I gasped out to him.
“Only two”, he answered. “Do you want more?”
I shook my head, “no, no, not yet . . . that’s lovely”.
He was pushing down on my bottom with the palm of his other hand, pushing me against my squirming and squeezing as I tensed and then relaxed my muscles over and over. I felt him adjusting his position on the bed next to me. His fingers were still there, I was squeezing and relaxing onto them, but he was sliding his other hand between my cheeks now. I felt his finger pushing and probing . . . my gasp was so loud he paused for a moment.
“Are you ok?” he asked.
I nodded my reply “gently, just gently” I groaned into the pillow.
I’d stopped my squirming and squeezing now. It was just him pushing and stroking with those two fingers still, but now pushing with one finger into my bottom. I squealed with the rush of the relaxation, and then felt myself pushing back against him slowly, matching the rhythm of his stroking. The pushing, and groaning, was slowly increasing with every successive stroke. I knew my exclamations were louder and louder . . . I knew I could be as loud as I wished and I wanted to be loud, I wanted to be screaming with the intensity.

When I came I’d lifted myself up on my knees, pushing and pumping against both his hands, reaching down between my own legs to hold his lower hand, to feel it pushing those fingers into my pussy. I wanted to be twisting my hips, shaking my bum cheeks for him, thrusting back against his fingers. I screamed out as I fell forward away from him, pulling myself off his fingers and brushing his hands away as I buried my face into the pillow trying to muffle my screams from the intensity.

Apparently I dozed for half an hour. I’m completely lost in my own zone when I’ve come like that . . . and of course his massage had made my unwinding-time even more complete after such exertion. As I eventually came to I felt him lying next to me with his arms cuddled around me. I giggled a “fucking wonderful” reply to his question of whether I’d had a nice time. We lay just kissing and cuddling and laughing as he told me my screams had been so loud he was worried that if our neighbours were home they may have called the police out. I told him I was sure all the neighbours were out at work and that I just loved being able to let myself go like that when I was enjoying myself. Being able to be as loud as I like makes it even more enjoyable and fulfilling.

Cuddled against him like that I could feel his willy semi-erect against my thigh. I reached down and started stroking as we continued talking, and teasing, about how he’d never been with anyone as noisy as I was. I could feel him growing in my hand. I sat-up and slid down on top of him, flicking my tongue over the head of his willy as I found it popping-up in front of me. I love the warmth and feel of a lovers cock growing harder as I slide my mouth up and down over it. I could tell from his movements against me that he was enjoying my attentions. I sat-up over his chest and then lowered myself down onto his hardness, reaching behind me to guide his cock into me, sharing his groans as we both felt the sliding motion and then the grip of myself around him. He grasped my hips and started to pump himself up into me with quick thrusting strokes, but I pushed down onto his chest telling him “I’m in control now. Let me!”

I lifted up and down in slower strokes, teasing him with little twists as we both looked down between ourselves and watched the tip of his cock just parting the lips of my pussy before disappearing from view as I pushed down onto him again. I was loving the feeling, as I lifted up and down, repeating my twists and bumps against him. He had his eyes tightly closed and was gasping and groaning quite quickly himself now. I lifted up completely and leant forward with my hands over his head onto the pillow and swung myself up to squat over his face. He opened his eyes and gasped again as I sunk my pussy down onto his face. “Do you like tasting my juicy cunt like this?” His reply was muffled by my pressure on his face, but I could feel his tongue feverishly licking at me. I lifted up slightly, teasing him to follow my pussy with his tongue. His head lifted up as I lifted away . . . and then I would push down on him again. “Tongue it” I told him, “tongue fuck me.” And then, “suck my clitty” as I lifted away again and swivelled more down onto him again. I tilted back a little and reached down between my legs, spreading my lips with my fingers, rubbing them over my button and sliding my index finger in. “Do you like watching that?” I asked him. Playing with myself for a minute more and then pushing two of my fingers into his mouth. “Taste my juices!”. I was loving it. Loving watching his expressions, loving feeling so naughty, and so in control sitting over him and commanding him to “lick it again, lick it more”.

He was gasping in passion, and for air, in-between my wiping myself over him again and again. I slid myself down over his chest again, feeling the slipperiness of my juices and his licking, sliding over his skin. His erection needed no guiding into me this time, we just seemed to slide together. I twisted again and sat upright, leaning backwards and feeling the pressure of his hardness now. I lifted and twisted and rocked back and forth, but just for a few strokes before he began gasping out quickly that he was going to come. I lifted up quickly off him and slid down further, squashing his cock onto his chest with my tummy and then cupping my breasts over him. He was writhing and gasping . . . I felt the squelching and wetness before he let out his groan, wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me down harder onto him. We rocked from side to side for a few moments before I felt it dribbling on my neck between us. I sat up quickly, and giggled “look at you” as we were joined together for a moment with a stretching thread of his cum, like a thin rubbery thread, a strand of a wet, milky, spiders web, before it snapped and splashed back down to him. His eyes were closed though, still moaning quietly, too relaxed himself now to notice.

I struggled off the bed to find the tissues from the dressing table, wiping myself clean from the mixture of his wetness, and the oil still left from my massage. I knelt down next to him and cleaned him up as well, laughing again as bits of tissue broke off and stuck in little patches on his shrinking willy and balls. I tried picking them off but he was ticklish and sensitive and rolled over onto his tummy. I lay down next to him . . .

We woke up at midday . . . him panicking because he had a booking at 1 o’clock and it was a 45 minute journey. I lay back on the bed, pulling the bed covers over me for the first time as I watched him dress. “Just say you got delayed by a demanding customer who needed more than just a massage” I teased him.

I did follow him down the stairs to see him out, kissing him on the cheek and thanking him for a “such an amazing massage” before opening the door. I stood naked behind the door, just leaning my head around the corner (just incase any of the neighbours were passing by) to wave goodbye. I found my phone and made my way back upstairs, collapsing back into bed again, before texting Hubby “He’s just ‘cum’ and gone. Do you want to come home early?”

Leave a Comment

Filed under Sexual liberation

0 Responses to Lover No. Three

  1. Jennifer

    Wow I loved reading this. Made me very wet. Your storys are the best Ive ever read on the internet. Will keep checking back here for more soon I hope.

  2. Lisbeth

    We agree with the previous commenter. Fantastic writing, always sexy and erotic and really turns us on. We cannot keep our hands off each other by the time we finish reading to the end.
    Lisbeth & Paul San Diego

  3. Sally

    I wish I had your life. Your diary is so arousing. My husband lost interest years ago, and I have started having wild fantasys about dressing up like a slut and living out my desires. But I know he would just laugh at me so I can’t tell him so I just have to keep dreaming about opportunitys like you have. Sally from Vancouver

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.