At last, somehow and I have no idea where the resolve came from, I regained my senses.
"No Craig, stop it this is ridiculous," I said sternly, pulling myself away from him.
"Ok, Amanda, I'm sorry," he said very contritely. "I didn't mean to push you like that, I wouldn't want you to do anything you don't want to do."
We didn't say much more to each other that evening. I went home and showered and then found myself masturbating. You can guess what was in my mind as I stroked and rubbed and caressed my breasts and nipples and my lips and clit. And he was an exceedingly good mental fuck.
Perhaps the worst aspect of my evening was when Sara, my daughter, came home from a friend's house and asked if I'd had a good day!
We lost the next day. In fact we were well beaten by a pair against who we should have won easily. I would happily own up if it had been mainly my fault, but it wasn't. I played ok, Craig was well off form, doing many double faults, not getting his angles correct and missing several easy vollies.
In many ways I was pleased that we were travelling home separately for it meant we didn't have to confront the situation of last night. But we had to confront it again a few days later for once more we were the last two at the club.
As we left the court, I was hellishly nervous, even though Craig didn't put his arm round my shoulders. It was quite a lot cooler that evening than it had been the last time we practised so we were both wearing track suits over our tennis clothes. I had, though removed the tracky bottoms, but had kept the zip up top on. This time I was wearing a big, sports bra.
"I guess you don't fancy a drink do you?" He asked as we got near to the small bar.
"Probably best not to," I replied as we passed the closed and locked door and got to the back door of the club, right where we had kissed a few days ago. I stopped in roughly the same position and for some unexplainable reason I turned so my back was almost against the wall. He faced me.
"I really am sorry for the other night Amanda."
I smiled. "It's ok?"
"Really?" He quipped back quickly.
"Yes really."
"So you didn't really mind?"
"No, yes, look I didn't say that, I mean oh sod it."
"What, why sod it?"
"You're making me tongue tied," I stammered, realising this wasn't going at all in the way I wanted.
"Oh dear, sorry," Craig said, seeming to me to move a little closer.
Part of me wanted to move away, pick up the phone, lock the bloody club and rush away. Another part, I began to realise with quite some alarm, didn't. I was curious, intrigued, sort of interested in how this might pan out. 'Surely' I thought' I don't want that to happen again?' My mind was racing and I was confused as he leaned further forward. 'Surely I don't want him to go further, oh fuck.' I was thinking as he put his hand on my hip, moved his face very close to mine, smiled and said quietly.
"How can I stop that?"
I didn't know what he meant.
"Stop what?"
"You being tongue tied of course," he said one of his fingers slipping across the collar of my shiny track suit and softly rubbing my neck. I can't explain why, but for some reason that was one of the most erotic gestures I had ever experienced.
"Oh Craig."
"Oh Amanda," he smiled. "What?"
"I don't know."
"Don't know what?" He whispered, his hand sliding round my waist. I didn't and couldn't reply. "I know how to stop the tongue tied thing."
"How?" I asked realising our faces were just inches apart.
"Like this," he whispered, his hand moving up and pressing on the side of my face as he closed the gap between our faces.
We kissed again. Once more my lips were closed. I wanted to stop, I wanted to go, I wanted to finish this ridiculous activity, I wanted him to leave me alone, I wanted to be faithful to my husband and family, I wanted to avoid getting involved with a man and I wanted to stop this almost teenager making advances towards me. Wanting all those things, what did I do? I opened my lips. And I guess by that relatively simple gesture I accepted his request. Parting my lips was me effectively agreeing with him and accepting his need. Yes, by opening my mouth to him I was effectively saying to him that he could have me. He knew it and I knew it. We both knew now that he was going to fuck me.
What neither of us knew, though, was where and when. Those questions were answered in the most graphic, obvious and exhilarating ways possible very quickly.
He was tongue fucking my mouth and I was going with his every surge and plunge, even though much of me wanted to stop.
I was writhing my lips against his as equally strongly now as his were against mine, despite me knowing I shouldn't. But then I shouldn't have let him squash my breasts against his chest, thrust his erection against my stomach or put his hand on my bum. I should have stopped there and then. I should not have let him cup my breasts outside my tennis top, but inside the unzipped track top. And most certainly I should have stopped him slipping his hand inside my top at the front and up my skirt at the back.
But I didn't, something was preventing me stopping him. I simply couldn't. I was kissing him furiously and, or so it must have felt to him, hungrily, but that was how he was making me feel. My body was hungry for him, he had teased and titillated it primed and manipulated me and was now taking what I guess he thought was rightly his.
My tracky top came off and he pushed my top up. He was caressing my breasts in my big, tight sports bra and fiddling his fingers inside it right onto the tingling, sensitive flesh. At the same time his hands were on my panties, they were on my bum, inside the thin knickers and on the flesh of the two cheeks. He was rubbing and squeezing them. As he did those things he was also thrusting his erection harder and more firmly against me, sort of dry fucking me.
Any last vestige of resistance I may have had was now vanishing rapidly. The tiny bit that was left, for it still hadn't occurred to me that we might fuck right there and then, rushed out of the window when he took my hand, pulled on it and placed it right on his bare cock, which somehow he'd exposed. That was the last barrier removed. I was his now; I was putty in his hands.
His cock was awesomely big and welcomingly hard.
My panties were pushed down, maybe off, I didn't know. He lifted the hem of my short skirt and made me whimper as he pressed the end of his cock right against my clit. He was holding and squeezing both cheeks of my bum as his mouth ravaged my breasts and nipples. He lifted me up. I couldn't believe what was happening, my legs were wrapped round his waist, my back was pressed against the wall as his cock slid effortlessly into me. As we started to fuck our mouths clamped together so that scene from Basic Instinct where Michael Douglas shags the psychiatrist against a wall came into my mind.
Back to reality.
I was mortified at what I had done. I felt terrible over the weekend and couldn't bring myself to go to the club.
It was the first time I had been in any way intimate with a man since David some four years ago. But that was different for we loved each other. This wasn't love, this was pure lust. We had fucked because we both wanted sex, nothing more, nothing less. And that was something I had told myself I would never do. And on top of that I had gone with a kid, a fucking tennis jock at that.
I felt lucky that I was living apart from Kevin and that Sara was at her grandparents for the weekend; I could not have looked them in the eyes. I spent a morose weekend holed up in the big, soulless house in Chigwell. I had lots of work to do for I was helping an agency put a presentation together for the Lejaby lingerie account. But my planning and thinking were continually interrupted by thoughts of that scene in the clubhouse. I could hardly believe it. I kept saying in my mind 'I was fucked by a twenty year old in the tennis clubhouse.' How fucking sordid, risky and ridiculous was that? I had decided never to go back to the club. That way I need never see Craig again. How ironic that thought later became.
Craig had called me on my mobile. We'd chatted. He
had asked about the next match and I had told him I wouldn't be playing.
"Why not?"
"I can't"
"You mean you won't?"
"Yes, but won't can't what's the difference?"
"Nothing they both add up to the fact that you don't want to see me?"
"Not don't want, but know I shouldn't. I can't."
"But you would like to?"
" That's irrelevant, I shouldn't have let happen what happened."
"Why not?"
" It's wrong, I'm married with children and old enough to be your mother." I said very primly.
"You're separated, not married."
"I'm still married, just separated.
"Did you enjoy it?"
I didn't reply, I couldn't"
"Well did you?"
"That has nothing to do with it."
"It has everything to do with it Amanda."
"No it doesn't."
"It does, because I think you enjoyed it, I know you did."
I didn't reply.
"Amanda?"
"Yes."
"Well did you?"
"What?"
"Enjoy it?"
"That's not fair."
"Well did you?"
I stayed silent.
"Well?"
"Craig stop it."
"Did you? Tell me? You did didn't you?"
I stayed silent again.
"Didn't you Amanda?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," I whispered, hating myself as the words came out.
"And really you want more don't do?"
I stayed quiet again.
"Amanda you do don't you, you do want more?"
"Oh Craig I just don't know, it seems so wrong."
"Why does two people who fancy each other having sex seem wrong?"
"No, I mean yes, well a woman of my age and you a twenty year old."
"So it wasn't the sex it was my age?"
"Yes. No, it's both."
"Look Amanda," he said sounding very grown up and plausible. "I know we aren't in love, I'm not going to ask you to leave Kevin, but then you have already done that. I don't want to go on dates. I can tell you are lonely and I filled a gap. That's fine."
"It's not like that?"
"What is it like then?"
"Oh I don't know."
"Look we are two sexual people with particular needs, that's all, nothing more, nothing less. We have found each other at particular times in our lives, we've clicked, we can enjoy each other then move on."
"Like ships passing the night?" I asked.
"Something like that, passing ships yes. Enjoy something for a short time, get the best from it and move on. That's all, nothing more, no real big deal on our overall lives, but while its going it's the most important and wonderful thing."
"Is that how you see it?"
"Sort of yes." Then he added the phrase that was the clincher, the panty dropper if you want. "I mean Amanda in a few weeks you will probably be back with Kev and we'll never see each other again.
More naughty stuff.
We fucked in that hallway by the phone the next night. The next evening I went to his mum and dad's house. They were out and we had sex in his single bed.
We played another match and I gave him a lift in my car, my Porsche rather than Kevin's Rangerover, which he had left at the house. On the way home he had his hand between my legs and we pulled into a car park. We kissed with me leaning across the centre console the chrome handled gear stick pressing into me right between my tits. He undid my top got my boobs out, but we could do little else, with both of us lying almost flat.
"Stay right there," I said getting out and walking round the back of the car.
It was a warm evening and we were still in our tennis clothes, him in shorts, me a skirt. Behind the car I slipped my panties off. He opened the door and I whispered.
"Stay just like that," as I unzipped him and he pushed his shorts down revealing his gorgeously swollen prick.
I climbed in and straddled him, well tried to, but the seat was narrow and I couldn't get my knees far enough down alongside either the door or the centre console. The more I tried to push down as he lifted my boobs out of my bra and rolled my top up to expose them and my nipples to his hands and mouth, so the more my head pressed against the roof. I came to the conclusion that it was impossible to fuck in a Porsche; a major design fault, but then it is a German car.
I climbed out. I knelt beside the car. He played with my tits as I took his cock in my hand and licked its length. I swallowed him deep into my mouth; he tasted good. As I sucked and licked him, so he started to fuck my mouth. We found a perfect rhythm. It got faster, more urgent and demanding and his thrusts got deeper and fuller.
"Oh Amanda," he groaned.
"What?"
"I am so near."
I knew what he was staying. Men with good manners and consideration are like that. They are inviting the woman to take him out of their mouth. I held him firmer and redoubled my sucking efforts. Suddenly he groaned, his body shuddered, he gripped me tightly, one hand in my hair, the other on my left boob and then my mouth was filled with the gushing, youthful torrent of his cum.
More soul searching.
It was getting worse. Or better. Who knows? My sex with Craig was becoming wilder, more daring and adventurous. I tried to understand myself; both the fact that I was fucking a kid and what I wanted from him. I knew what I didn't want, that was easy. I didn't want love and real affection, I didn't want companionship and dates, I didn't need him to be considerate and caring. They were things one gets from a lover, a partner or a husband and, in most ways Kevin provided them, well he used to before we parted.
Craig supplied something else. He fulfilled another need. A need that I was having difficulty defining, which wasn't really surprising for until we had sex that first time I wasn't even aware that I had the need. Even now, three fucks and a mouth shag into my 'fling' with him, I couldn't define it.
A need for adventure? Maybe. A desire to be wanted? Unlikely. Being found attractive by a young Adonis? No not really. Boredom a relief from the tedium? Partly. A wish to experience someone other than my husband? Yes, but why with a boy?
None of my anguished analysis really got me anywhere. The only conclusions I reached were that I wanted Craig purely for sex, nothing more. But why I wanted him at all, I couldn't fathom. However, I was beginning to reach a not fully thought out conclusion that scared me a little. I was discovering a different side to myself, an alternative me. On the face of things I was a highly respectable, middle class woman, a bulwark of middle England, a stalwart of what a businessman's wife and the mother of his child should be. I had been like that all my life, particularly my married period. I hadn't strayed much or even really been tempted although I'd had many opportunities. Kevin and I enjoyed a spirited, but by no means 'kinky' or alternative sex life, we didn't swing, share partners or cheat. We weren't into S & M, bondage, pain, dressing up, spanking or anything away from the mainstream. We were just straightforward and, I guess 'normal.'
Well I had been. What I was starting to realise was that it was just that 'normality' that may well have created my need for Craig. I still wasn't able to rationalise 'the why' fully, but what was forming in my mind was 'the how.' If I was going to stray from my marriage vows then it had to be big time. I didn't just want a one night stand with someone like me. No I wanted a fling with a complete opposite to me and my husband and friends. I didn't want a gentle seduction, dinner then a nice bed with low lights, soft music and tender lovemaking. No I wanted something extreme; I wanted to be screwed up against a wall, still half dressed. I wanted to be fucked in another man's bed. I wanted sex in a public place, a place I would return to and stand there with other people around knowing I had been fucked right there. Yes they were my needs and they were somewhat different, but, it hit me hard one day, they may well have been quite similar to Kevin's.
I know it didn't make sense, fully, but t
hen what to do with sex does? It's a drive we all have to differing degrees and none of us really understands it fully, but I was trying and thought I was getting there. However, I had to acknowledge that I was probably developing, or suffering from a sort of split personality, the Jekyl and Hyde syndrome.
More Craig smut.
I used Kevin's Rangerover for the next match a week or so after the incident in the Porsche. That, incidentally, had ended on a humorous note. When I got home around eight thirty, Sara and the babysitter Carline were there. As I poured myself a drink, my daughter suddenly said.
"Mum why are your knees dirty?"
They didn't get dirty in the Rangerover, when Craig next fucked me though. In fact he fucked me twice within an hour; it was the first time he had proved his stamina and recovery powers to me, I was impressed and I wanted more.
Our club is in a forest, it is surrounded on all sides by trees and a quite heavily wooded area. It was mid- afternoon in mid-week, a Thursday I think. It wasn't busy at the club, just half a dozen members and none of Craig's mates all of whom must have been at uni or working. It wasn't a sunny day, but it was dry and reasonably warm, about seventy I guess, with no wind, great tennis weather.
"Come on," he said after we had been practising and were sitting drinking orange juice on the balcony outside the bar overlooking the six courts.
"Where?"
"Let's go for a walk," he replied, smiling.
"Where?"
He nodded towards the woods. That actually made my heart leap a bit for I knew it wasn't just a walk that he was inviting me on.
"You go first, then I'll go out to my car," I said, aware at how nosy people can be.
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