{ASS} NEW John A "Five Hours" (M/F, Rom, anal) 1/2
John3365a
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the age of 18, or 21 depending on your locality, stop reading right
now. If your government prohibits erotic literature, stop reading
now and delete this. If you choose to continue, that is your decision
-- and your responsibility -- not mine.
This is intended solely for adults, and any other rebroadcast,
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authorize this to be archived in its entirety, except in those
cases where a fee is charged.
This is Copyright 1999 by
John...@aol.com. All rights reserved.
Note: This is only the second story I've written. I'd like some
feedback. Positive or negative, I'll try to respond to everyone
(except obnoxious flames). Thanks. My e-mail address is John...@aol.com.
Note #2: My last story involved golf as a metaphor for sex, this story
references golf as well. But in this story Golf means Golf.
This is Copyright 1999 by
John...@aol.com. All rights reserved.
"Five Hours" by John A (M/F, Rom, anal) part 1/2
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"What time are you leaving tomorrow?" I asked my wife.
"No later than ten, it tends to fill up quickly."
"You should have a good day, the weather's supposed to be great. The
kids will have a great time."
"Are you sure you don't want to come? You know they'll be disappointed."
"Positive. I brought my clubs all the way to Florida, I'm determined
to use them at least once." I smiled.
My wife and I had brought our three kids to Florida during spring school
vacation and were spending the week at Walt Disney World. Yes, we were
suckers for the mouse. Our kids loved to go there, and I loved to watch
them have such a great time. And yes, I like it a lot too. We'd had a
great week to that point, visiting all of the theme parks. The next day
my wife was taking the kids to River Country, a beach park right on the
Disney complex that's perfect for little kids.
I was, however, not going. I enjoy the theme parks as much as the next
overgrown child, and I love going on all of the attractions with my kids
but if I have a choice between sitting at a beach or playing golf, golf
wins every time. I just hoped my daughter wouldn't use her puppy-dog eyes
on me in an attempt to convince me to go with them. Four-year-olds can
be particularly persuasive.
When I called the Magnolia course I was assigned a tee time of 8am. Since
I was going to be playing alone, they would arrange for me to be set up
with a playing partner who was also playing alone. We were to meet at
the club house at 7:45.
I hated to be set up with an unknown playing partner. Not that I'm a
great golfer, it's more the unknown of playing four hours with a stranger.
I don't enjoy playing with someone who wants to get really competitive,
or someone who has a temper and throws his clubs all over the place. I
play golf to relax and because I enjoy it. I have enough stress in
my life without adding more from a game. I harbored no delusions --
unlike many fellow golfers -- about becoming a great player, or
chucking it all and being a pro. The difference between 70 and 80 is
exponentially greater than the difference between 80 and 100 in terms
of talent. I was in the latter group and there was no way I would get
to the former, and I really didn't enjoy playing with someone who
played as though his life depended on every shot.
I arrived at the course at 7:40 and went to the starter. He brought me
over to my playing partner and I was slightly taken aback. I just assumed
that my playing partner would be a man. I'm not sure why, many women play
golf. I just never considered the probability that my partner would be
a woman.
"Hi, I'm Sarah Singleton," she said in a lilting, airy voice.
I introduced myself as we shook hands. She had a firm, yet tender grip
and I looked at her more closely. She appeared to be in her mid to late
30's with medium length dark hair. Pretty, pleasant features. Very cute.
The thought of golfing with this charming woman was much more pleasing
than most alternatives. I was a happily married man, but I was not averse
to spending a few hours in the company of a pretty woman.
As we began play, we made polite conversation, warming up to each other.
She was in Florida with her husband and two teenage children. Her husband
was some sort of a sales manager for a corporation in Philadelphia. He
had to be in Orlando for a conference that week, so the rest of the family
tagged along with him for a vacation.
It didn't take me very long to notice that she was a better player than
me. She told me her handicap was four; very impressive. I had told her
that mine was eight, even though it's actually 12. Male ego, I guess.
We talked and joked as if we were lifelong friends and found that in addition
to golf, we both shared many similar interests, and had much the same
taste in music, too.
The first few holes just flew by for me and I realized that I was enjoying
Sarah's company more than the golf. I found myself watching her; looking
at her as she walked to approach her ball, or watching her intently as
she swung. She had firm, muscular thighs that descended from a beautiful
bottom. It wasn't one of those tight teenage asses, but the behind of
a woman. It was a little full, but firm and well shaped and it looked
very delicious beneath her white shorts. I admonished myself for my thoughts.
I was a married man after all, she was a married woman and I was acting
like a kid. Still, there was no harm in looking and I knew that was all
that would come of it.
We were laughing and joking quite a bit by the time we got to the seventh
hole.
"What do you say we make this interesting?" she said with a little twinkle
in her eye.
"What do you have in mind?"
"Whoever wins has to pay for the other's lunch," she paused for a moment,
"that is, if you don't mind having lunch with me."
"I'd love to," I said a little too eagerly. "But handicaps are included."
I was truly enjoying her company, and anything to lengthen the amount
of time we spent together was fine with me.
She smiled broadly. "That's fine. Unless you're lying about your handicap,
trying to snooker me." I actually was lying, but not in the way she suggested.
I was really a worse player than my handicap suggested to her. She was
going to crush me. Male ego. Damn inconvenient at times. She laughed
and agreed as we walked to the eighth hole tied. Sarah had a laughter that
seemed to spring up from deep inside of her. Not a superficial polite
laugh, the type you hear at cocktail parties. She was warm and had an
ebullient charm only possessed by the truly genuine and I couldn't help
but be very enchanted by her.
The rest of the round was a blur of laughter and playful flirting and
in no time we were at the 18th hole. I had used every opportunity I had
to gaze at her; I was fascinated by her every movement, becoming more
captivated by her as each hole passed. As the round progressed, I also
noticed that she was glancing at me, as well; stealing surreptitious
looks when she felt as if she could get away with it. I was quite sure
that it was all in good fun and I tried to convince my ego that there
was nothing going on between us. Still, I wondered.
We were tied and the 18th was the 6th toughest hole, so I got a stroke
due to the handicap and she didn't. All I needed to do was tie her on
this hole and I would win. The cost of the meal was inconsequential to
winning. Male ego. Dumb. As it turned out I three putted the hole for
a bogie 6, while she hit a great approach and sank a 15-foot putt for
a birdie 4 to beat me by a stoke.
She teased me playfully about her victory as we walked off the green
toward the club house. We decided to eat lunch at the Rainforest
Cafe at the Downtown Disney Marketplace. Since I had taken the shuttle
to the course, she offered to drive me.
While awaiting our lunch, we had a few drinks and began to talk about
our lives. Sarah spoke glowingly about her children; her brown eyes
sparkled and her face lit up as she did. She had a 16-year-old girl
and a 15-year-old boy. Today they were both at EPCOT together. She
bragged about their achievements with the pride of a loving parent.
She looked beautiful.
Her eyes darkened and her face lost some of its effervescence as she
started talking about her husband. Sarah finished her second glass of
wine and ordered another. She complained about her husband being on the
road so often; she was grateful for the life that he provided her and
the kids, but it wasn't enough. Even when he was home, it was as if he
wasn't there; he was always working, always setting up the next deal.
He was apparently very good at what he did -- they lived in an exclusive
Philadelphia suburb -- but their family life had suffered because of it.
I told her about my three children and my wife, opening up to her about
how things had been strained at home between the two of us lately. Part
of it was my fault. I worked long hours, and rarely took time off. In
fact, this was my first time off in over nine months. I was a consultant
in the burgeoning data-communications field and I had more clients than
I knew what to do with. My wife understood this and tried to be sympathetic,
but I knew that it was tough for her. I worked out of an office at home,
so we saw each other quite a bit, we just didn't spend much time together.
I was either working or off visiting clients, and she was bringing our
oldest boy to little league or our daughter to ballet. And the baby took
up a lot of time too. Already two now, he was a handful and Abby -- my wife
-- was always tired. We'd read an article that suggested that busy married
couples should try to schedule sex, so we did. But that was futile --
and seemed a little ridiculous, too. You can't turn on intimacy like a
light switch. She became less and less in the mood as the years went by
anyway. We were drifting apart, we both knew it, we both didn't want it
to happen, but there wasn't a damn thing either one of us could do about it.
The subject changed when lunch arrived and the discourse lightened. As
we ate our meals we engaged in light, small talk. She was very witty and
I felt alive being able to flirt with someone I found as attractive as
Sarah. At one point I felt her foot bump against mine. She looked at me
and smiled shyly as she removed it. As I was looking across the table
I took more of a notice of her. Sarah was perfect. Not that most men would
find her perfect; in fact I doubted that many would find her beautiful.
Most, certainly, would find her attractive and very cute, though. But to
me, everything about her was what I found attractive in a woman. From her
lips to her breasts, to the way she walked and the way she laughed, to
her smile and her legs, from her brown eyes that sparkled when she was
excited about something to the way she tossed her hair absentmindedly,
everything she did was perfect to me. I knew she wasn't the most beautiful
woman I'd ever met, there was just something about her; the totality of
her. To me, her whole was much greater than the sum of her parts. I was
a man married for eleven years who was developing a crush on another man's
wife. I felt guilty. I felt giddy.
My reverie was broken by the touch of her foot against mine again. This
time she let it linger for a moment and she blushed. I smiled to reassure
her and her face relaxed. She began rubbing her foot against my leg and
I could feel myself becoming aroused from the contact. She worked her
foot up my calf, stroking it slowly, seductively.
"Bill, please don't think I'm a terrible person but would you like to
go back to my hotel room with me?" She was barely audible.
I was speechless and could have been knocked over with a feather. My
mouth was open but nothing was coming out. Here this beautiful woman had
just offered herself to me, and I was at a loss for words.
"Oh God, I'm sorry," she was bright red by now. "You probably think I'm
such a slut or something like that. I've never done anything like this
before. My husband is the only man I've ever slept with. I'm just so
attracted to you I don't know what I'm doing. I'm so sorry."
I could see tears roll down her cheeks as she was staring down at the
table. I was really torn about what I wanted to do, but I knew letting
this lovely creature writhe in agony wasn't an option.
I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. I tried to give
her my most reassuring smile, but I was as confused as she appeared to
be. She clasped it tightly, like a liferope, and smiled slightly as she
wiped her tears with her free hand. I had a million conflicting thoughts
all at once colliding within my mind. Lust however, as it often does,
won out and I quickly paid the bill before either one of us changed our
mind.
"What about your husband?" I asked as we rose from the table.
"His conference will last until at least nine tonight, my kids are at
EPCOT, and they won't be meeting me until six for dinner."
I looked at my watch, it was only 12:45. My only response was a smile
-- actualy more of a shit-eating grin; words escaped me at the moment.
We left the restaurant like two high school kids cutting class to go make
out. Hand in hand, we practically sprinted to her car as if something
were chasing us. She was giggly and I had a spring in my step that I hadn't
had in years.
The ride to her hotel was tense, anxious; neither of us able to speak
for fear of the great unknown that we were about to plunge into. For my
part, I was locked into a strenuous wrestling match with my conscience.
Why was I doing this, why was this happening? Eleven years. Eleven years
of marriage being risked for what? For an afternoon of sex, a tryst, with
a woman I'd known for all of five hours. Eleven years versus five hours.
Vegas wouldn't give very good odds on that bet.
I tried to convince myself that I was nuts. It's not as if she were Cindy
Crawford or Kathy Ireland, either. Although, if the offer were made, there
would probably be less of a chance of me doing anything with either of
them than with Sarah. There was just something about this woman that I
found irresistible. Yes she was attractive, pretty, flirtatious; but many
women were and I'd never considered this before. There was something
more, something that drew me to her like a moth to a flame. No matter
how hard my rational side tried to resist, she was a magnet. Everything
between us just meshed perfectly. At the restaurant our conversation
was so relaxed, so familiar, as if we had known each other for years.
We were even finishing each other's sentences -- after only five hours.
Yes, she showed an interest, but she had not been the first. I valued
my marriage vows. Those weren't just words I'd spoken. I believed them,
honored them. Over the years of my marriage there had been several women
with whom I could have shared a bed. Women I'd known more than five hours,
too. Female colleagues on business trips; two old friends from college --
friends of Abby's, too -- who discretely alluded to their
availability to me on several occasions; my former secretary, enticing
me with overtures both subtle and overt. I refused them all, politely,
diplomatically. I was a happily married man. Or so I thought. But here
I was with a woman I'd known for all of five hours; a married woman, no
less. Infatuated like a teenaged boy overflowing with hormones. But I
wasn't a boy. I was a man about to commit adultery, and I was powerless
to stop it.
I removed my clubs from the trunk of her rental car; I had to bring them
in with me. Her room was at the Grand Floridian and I was staying at the
Polynesian, and I would be taking the monorail back to my hotel. I wasn't
sure if I was Moe, Larry, or Shemp, but I certainly felt like a stooge.
No, I wasn't exactly handling my affair with the grace of Cary Grant. I
was a stuttering, stumbling fool. I dropped my golf bag in the parking
lot and my hands were sweating -- not just because of the Florida
heat. I think I was more nervous than on my first date when I was a
teenager. It was at least relieving to me that she wasn't staying at
the same hotel as I was. The last thing I needed at that point was for
my wife or my kids seeing me with another woman.
I tried to relax myself as we rode the elevator up to her floor. We smiled
nervously at each other, both excited and terrified at what we were about
to do. She slid the card into the electronic lock and swung the door open.
Sarah and I entered and immediately pressed ourselves into each other's
arms. We kissed hungrily, replacing the last vestiges of doubt with animal
lust, erasing all tension. She began stroking my hardening cock through
my pants as we frantically struggled to remove our clothes.
"How about if we get in the shower?" Sarah asked coyly as my cock sprang
from my underwear. It was a good idea. We were both hot and dirty and
sweaty from playing golf in the Florida sun for nearly four hours. The
awkwardness of a first sexual encounter didn't need to be compounded by
being filthy.
Sarah adjusted the temperature of the shower as we soaped each other.
She expertly fondled my balls with her soapy hand as I played with her
breasts, bringing the nipples to pronounced erections. Sarah had beautiful
tits. Barely more than a handful, they were perfect for her. Slightly
weighty, but still standing proudly they were smooth, creamy globes topped
off by very red, very pointy nipples.
Our soapy hands explored every inch of each other's bodies, as we kissed
deeply. After what seemed like hours of just kissing and caressing, I
placed a soapy finger on her pussy and began to massage her clit. Sarah
groaned and she immediately began to shudder in orgasm. She became more
aggressive at this point and grasped my cock tightly and stroked me
insistently with her right hand. I inserted my finger into her wet
opening, fucking it in and out of her with the same rhythm she was
using to stroke my cock. Her pussy was hot, and I enjoyed the feeling
of its tight wetness.
"Please, Bill, fuck me now," she implored, lifting one leg and placing
it on the edge of the tub.
Never one to disappoint a lady, I removed my hand from her sex and angled
my penis toward her awaiting flower.
"I take it you're ok?" I asked with a pant as I place the head of my
prick at the entrance to her vagina.
"No," she put her leg down and stiffened. "I just assumed you were, I
guess. Dan had a vasectomy, I really didn't think about it."
"Oh, shit. Abby's on the pill . . . and I haven't had a condom since
I was in college." We began laughing in spite of ourselves, comforting
ourselves in an embrace, chuckling at the absurdity of it all. Oh yes,
I was indeed one of the Three Stooges. Only Shemp could fuck up a
situation like this.
Sarah pulled away and released my prick from her grasp. She gave me a
peck on the lips and grinned coyly while she lathered her hand with even
more soap. Then she proceeded to soap my dick in earnest. But just as
I was getting very excited she stopped abruptly.
"Soap up my ass for me." Her voice was a whisper and she was blushing
as she turned away from me. "Just be gentle, I've never done this before."
Sarah was truly an amazing creature, willingly giving her virgin ass to
me. I was taken aback but tried to be as careful as possible. I began by
first inserting one soapy finger just up to the second knuckle. Sarah moaned
as I worked the finger around, her anus adjusting to the intruder, gripping
my finger snugly. As I worked another finger inside her, she started playing
with her pussy and was moaning softly.
"Are you sure about this, Sarah?"
"Yeah, do it," she moaned.
I removed my fingers from Sarah's ass and gripped my cock firmly as I
pressed its head against her tight rosebud. I pushed onward, inserting
the soapy, helmeted invader just past the anal ring. She grunted, and
I didn't move. I wanted her to get accustomed to the feel of my erect
penis before I began thrusting.
After about a minute she began pressing herself back toward me, urging
me inward. I grabbed hold of her hips and slowly inserted my erection
deep into her ass. Pausing a moment to allow her to adjust to the feeling,
I reached around and began fingering her pussy. I located her clit and
flicked it with my forefinger. Sarah squirmed and groaned as I began my
ass fuck in earnest, repeatedly pulling my cock almost all the way out
before shoving it back in to its fullest. Sarah's ass was tight, almost
to the point of causing me pain, and it took every bit of concentration
and self-control I had not to come after the first few strokes.
"Are you doing OK?" I asked, forced by my conscience, with ragged breath.
"Mm-huh, this actually feels good -- full -- but I like it," she grunted
as she pushed her ass back toward me.
I took her encouragement to redouble my efforts and began thrusting into
her backside with wild abandon. She grunted and moaned as my digital
ministrations on her sex combined with my furious ass fuck were having
the desired effect and she shrieked in orgasm. I could feel the spasm
in her ass and that sent me over the edge just as she was coming down
form her peak. I erupted deep within her bowel, experiencing one of the
most intense orgasms in my recent -- and not so recent -- memory.
continued in part 2/2
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"Five Hours"
Copyright 1999 John...@aol.com.
All rights reserved.