New Year was not the usual celebration this year. My husband had been ill for many months, requiring constant attention. He had been improving slowly and was now able to move around a little, but was still housebound and requiring physiotherapy on a daily basis, which was done on a massage table set up in my husband’s study. So our New Year celebration was in front of the television with a glass of Prosecco.

Watching the celebrations, however, made me realise how much I missed the daily interaction with other people. I mentioned this to my husband and, to my surprise, he said that I should go out and see my friends. He said that he felt he could manage on his own for most things and that I shouldn’t feel bad about leaving him. I thanked him and said I’d think about it.

The next few days didn’t change much. The usual cooking, washing, cleaning, and so forth. His usual physiotherapist, John, came regularly at 10.00am for two hours of exercising. He told me that my husband had improved tremendously and that he would be cutting back the number of treatments to twice weekly.

The following week, I answered the door at 10.00am, expecting to see the physiotherapist. Instead, I was confronted by a middle-aged man I didn’t know.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“I’m Stephen Baker,” he replied, showing me an identity card, “I’m a physiotherapist working with John. Unfortunately, he has the flu, so he asked me to come and treat your husband.”

“Oh, right. Please come in, Mr Baker,” I said, stepping aside to let him in.

“Please call me Steve,” he replied as he entered.

I closed the door and turned around to look at him. He was a good-looking man with salt and pepper hair above a pair of startlingly blue eyes set in a rugged face. He was dressed in a white shirt with short sleeves, which were stretched over his biceps, and a pair of white sweatpants. I felt a little flutter in my stomach as my eyes met his.

“I’ll go and fetch my husband,” I said, “in the meantime, why don’t you go through into the study and get ready. It’s the first door on the right down that passage.”

“Sure,” he replied.

I went upstairs to fetch my husband and help him down to the study, explaining that he was seeing a different physio. I left the two of them to get on with it.

After an hour or so, I decided to look in on the treatment. My husband was on the table, and Steve was holding his legs and moving them back and forth against his chest and then straight out. He had taken off his shirt, and I could see his muscles rippling as he worked on my husband. As I watched them, he looked up at me and smiled. Again, I felt that little flutter in my stomach. I smiled back, turned around and left.

When the treatment had finished, he helped my husband back upstairs, then returned to the living room.

“He’s quite tired,” he said, “I worked him quite hard. He’s gone to sleep now.”

“Would you like some tea?” I asked.

“No thank you,” he replied, “but perhaps I could give you a massage. I know what it takes to look after someone who’s ill. It’s stressful, and I’d be happy to try and relieve some of that stress.”

I knew straight away what he meant.

“That would be lovely,” I replied.

He stood to the side to allow me to walk to the study in front of him.

“Take off your top and slacks, leaving your bra and pants on, then lie face down on the table,” he said.

I took off my outer clothes and folded them to place on the desk, then turned to face him, dressed only in my bra and rather small panties. Without saying anything, I reached behind and undid my bra and dropped it on the floor, then, after a few seconds, turned around and lay down on the table, my arms hanging down.

“I’ll start on your shoulders,” he said, placing his hands onto my shoulder blades, his fingers and thumbs kneading my muscles.

He worked up and down my upper back, then into my neck, his thick fingers probing deep into my muscles. Slowly, I felt myself relaxing as the tension flowed out of my body.  

He worked on the muscles and ligaments joining the top of my shoulders to my neck, slowly moving upwards to the base of my skull and then back down again, before kneading the muscles on the side of my shoulder blades.

I could feel his hands moving around under my armpits as he loosened the side ligaments, then slowly down my sides, his fingers loosely touching the side of my breasts, before slowly pushing more firmly into them.

“Aaah, that feels good,” I murmured.

“Good,” he replied, “but I think I’ll move onto your lower back now. I’ll have to pull your panties down a bit, otherwise they’ll get covered with oil. Is that alright?”

“Just pull them down and take them off,” I replied, lifting my hips up, “I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of naked bottoms in your professional capacity.”

“As long as you’re happy with it,” he said, slipping his fingers into the side of my panties and pulling them down over my thighs, then down my legs and over my feet, before putting them on the desk.

Then, ignoring my exposed and bare buttocks, he put his hands on my waist and used his thumbs to press into my lower back, probing my pelvic muscles.

“Your pelvic muscles are well-developed,” he said. “You obviously keep yourself in good shape.”

He moved his hands up and down the sides of my lower back, then brought them in towards my spine before slowly moving down until they were on my buttocks, kneading my gluteal muscles, his thumbs just in my crack, his fingers on the sides of my buttocks.

He massaged my gluteal muscles for several minutes, his hands moving around until his fingers were underneath the base of my buttocks and very close to my slit. As he did so, I could feel myself getting aroused. My nipples hardened, and there was a glow starting in my groin. I lifted my hips slightly, hoping that he would slip his hands further around so that his fingers reached my slit, but he didn’t take advantage of my movement. Instead, he moved his hands down to start massaging the backs of my thighs.

I groaned as I felt his thumbs glide up and down my inner thighs. I could feel my clitoris buzzing and my pussy moistening as he kneaded my flesh, rolling it out to the sides as his hands moved up and down, his thumbs getting ever closer to my slit, but never quite touching it.

Then, without warning, he stopped massaging and slapped my butt.

“Time to turn over,” he said, “would you like a towel to cover yourself?”

I turned over onto my back and looked at him.

“What do you think?” I asked. “Do I need to cover myself?”

“Oh, shit,” he exclaimed, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Come closer, Steve.”

He stepped forward so that he was standing close to my head.  I turned onto my side and rubbed my hand over his crotch, then undid the cord of his sweatpants and tugged them down so that I could get to his penis.

“Oh my,” I said, “you are a big boy,” as his erect penis sprang out. It wasn’t that it was so long, although it was certainly longer than many I’d seen, it was the thickness. His shaft was the thickest I’d seen, and covered with veins that stood out, the largest running the entire length along the top before curving down to the side. Topping his shaft was a huge, dark pink, mushroom-shaped glans, dripping precum, and hanging below a large pair of hairy testicles.

I grasped his shaft and, leaning forward, wrapped my lips around his glans, my tongue swirling over the top as I slowly took him into my mouth. It wasn’t easy, and I had to stretch open as much as I could to avoid my teeth hurting him, but I managed and, before long, his glans was completely inside, and my lips were sliding past his frenulum and down his shaft.

I swirled my tongue around his glans, taking care to tickle his corona, then pushed the tip of my tongue into his little slit. He groaned and thrust his hips forward, forcing more of his penis into my mouth. I could feel his glans against my palate as his precum dribbled down the back of my tongue.

As I sucked him, I felt his hand push between my thighs until his fingers reached my now very wet slit. They brushed up and down my labia, gently prizing them apart so that he could find my vaginal entrance as his thumb gently stimulated my clitoris.

His touch was like magic. I could feel my juices flowing out and wetting my thigh as my clitoris hardened and grew under the feather-like touch of his thumb. My pulse was racing, and little electric shocks jolted my groin. I started thrusting back and forth.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, and started thrusting in and out of my mouth. Precum was now flowing out of his slit, and his glans had expanded. He was going to climax, but I didn’t want him to cum in my mouth. I wanted to feel him cum in my vagina.

I pulled my mouth off his penis and rolled back onto my back and looked at him.

“That’s enough of that,” I said, “I haven’t had sex in months and months since my husband’s been ill, and I want to feel a man’s cock throbbing inside me again. I’ll suck you off another time, but right now I want you to fuck me, and fuck me hard.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He took off his shirt and walked to the door and locked it, then walked to the end of the massage table, his penis sticking out in front of him, bobbing up and down. He grabbed my legs and dragged me down the table until my bottom was right at the edge, before lifting up my legs and placing them against his shoulders as he stepped forward and let his penis touch my slit.

“Put my cock in your cunt,” he ordered.

I reached forward and grasped his penis and rubbed it up and down my slit before positioning it at my vaginal entrance and pulling it towards me. I was very wet, and his precum-covered glans slid in quite easily until the tip hit my vaginal sphincter. He waited for a second or so, then grabbed my hips and pulled them towards him as he flicked his groin forward.

I heard a squelching sound as my vaginal sphincter gave up the fight and relaxed, and his glans popped through and into my canal, the large head forcing open my vaginal walls and stimulating the nerves.

‘Aaaaah,” I murmured, expelling my breath as I felt him break through my defences and slowly invade the most private recesses of my body. God, I love that feeling when a man’s cock first opens me up.

I could feel my labia being stretched to the limit as they clung around his massive shaft, and I wondered whether I would be able to accommodate his size when he was fully inside me. The base of his shaft was really big.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said.

“Oh, shut up and fuck me,” I growled, and that was when he really started. He rammed his cock into me hard and began thrusting in and out with long, fast strokes.

“Ooooof!” I cried as his cock battered my cervix until eventually it slid underneath it. His cock pumped in and out of me as my body bounced around and slid all over the table, my breasts flailing around.

My vagina felt hot and incredibly full. It also felt vibrant and alive as it clasped the hard flesh inside it. My clit felt huge and on fire, sending waves of pleasure through my lower body. My hips were lifting up involuntarily, trying to get him further inside me.

“Do you like that, my little slut? Do you like your tight little pussy being fucked by my big cock?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I cried. “I like it. My pussy likes being fucked by your huge cock.”

I could feel my climax building. My clit was itching madly, and there was a roar in my ears. I rotated my hips as he thrust, trying to feel his cock everywhere inside me, as I closed my eyes and wallowed in the feelings of pleasure beginning to course through my body.

“Open your eyes,” he shouted, “I want you to look at me as you cum.”

I opened my eyes and gazed at him as my feelings grew more urgent. My mouth was open and my breathing laboured, when I felt the start of that lovely feeling when the dam bursts and you can’t hold off any longer. All of my muscles tensed, and I held my breath as I gazed into his beautiful blue eyes, when suddenly I gave a long sigh and let out my breath as a wonderful feeling of relief spread throughout my body, and all of my muscles relaxed for an instant before tensing again and then releasing.

Steve didn’t slow down at all as I orgasmed, driving his cock in and out as I cried out with joy each time I peaked and relaxed. I felt enormously close to him as my orgasm continued. This strong, masculine, good-looking man was looking after me, taking care of my needs.

Eventually, my orgasm wound down, and my breathing slowed. He sensed the change and stopped thrusting, keeping still while deep inside me.

“I see you liked that,” he said.

“God, yes,” I replied, “it’s been a long time. But what about you?”

“Oh, I liked it. Very much so. I loved watching you cum on my cock. It made me feel good.”

“But you didn’t cum.”

“Not yet, but I will soon.”

I clenched my pelvic muscles so that my vagina squeezed the cock inside it. He laughed.

“No, I want you on top of me. I want you to ride me.”

“Well, we'd better rearrange ourselves then.”

I watched as he pulled his penis out of me, my labia clinging to it as if they didn’t want to let it go. I felt a sense of loss and emptiness as he stood there in front of me, his penis sticking out.

“Get off the table and wait while I get on, then you can climb over me,” he said.

“Are you sure it will take the weight?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure,” he replied.

I got off, and he got on and lay on his back, his thick penis lying on his abdomen. I clambered up and sat on his thighs, grasping it. It was wet and slimy with my juices.

I held it up as I got onto my knees and shuffled further up his body until I was hovering above his erect penis, then slowly lowered myself down, guiding him into my still-gaping vagina. His penis slid in easily. I was still very wet and loose from the incredible sex we’d just had.

As I lowered myself down, I again realised how full and complete he made me feel, and how much I had missed having a man’s cock in me for all those months. It made me feel resentful of my husband for having put me in that position, and I decided that I would now enjoy myself without feeling any guilt.

I watched Steve’s face as I sank down, enjoying the look of lust that crossed over it.  His cock twitched as it went deeper, the bulge of his prominent urethra pressing against my vaginal wall. I enjoyed feeling it, thinking that it wouldn’t be long before it bulged out again as he climaxed and ejaculated.

Eventually he was all the way inside me. My thighs were far apart, and our pubic hair had met. I leaned forward and licked his nipples, one at a time, as I contracted and released my pelvic muscles so that my vaginal walls rippled around his shaft.

“Aaaah. You’re a good fuck,” he said.

I sucked at his nipples, raking them between my teeth. They were rock hard. He groaned and shifted his hips, trying to get me to move, but I remained pressing down on him.

I lifted my head off his chest and looked into his eyes as I ran my hands over his biceps, feeling their hardness and strength, then leaned down and licked his neck from just below his ear down to the curve where it joined his shoulder before nibbling at the flesh.

I moved my body from side to side so that my breasts rubbed his chest, my nipples hard and prominent.

“Suck my breasts, Steve,” I murmured.

He lifted his head up and forward, so that he could nip my left breast between his lips and suck it and its areola into his mouth, his tongue flicking over my nipple as his hand squeezed my breast. I moaned as I felt a jolt in my groin as if there was a nerve connecting my breast to my genitals.

He sucked hard, then released my left breast and lapped his tongue around my areola before moving to my right breast and repeating his actions.

“God, your tits are unbelievable,” he said as he lay back again. “They’re so big and firm. I can’t believe you’ve had two children.”

I smiled with pride, then straightened up and, putting my hand behind me, felt for his testicles, moving them around with my fingers in their sac. They felt quite heavy and hard. As I fondled them, I could feel the spermatic cord that ran from them to his prostate.

His cock was now twitching quite frequently inside me, and his hips were pushing up more urgently. I lifted my hips upwards a few inches, feeling his mushroom head tickle my vaginal walls as it slipped past my cervix. I held myself there for a few seconds, then leaned forward and down so that my head was next to his and my butt was high in the air.

“I’m going to fuck you, Steve, like you’ve never been fucked before.”

With that, I started pumping my hips up and down with fast, long strokes, my vaginal muscles gripping his cock tightly as I rode him. I felt his hands on my hips, pulling me down and pushing me back up as he thrust into me, now that he could move his pelvis.

I could feel my clitoris rubbing the top of his shaft as his cock pushed inwards and dragged my labia with it. That started an itch that slowly spread throughout my groin, driving me to more frantic action.

“Oh God, Steve,” I moaned, “your cock feels so good. I think I’m going to cum again.”

“Oh God,” he cried, gripping my hips and giving a huge thrust and holding me down so I couldn’t move as his cock swelled and a wad of semen shot out of his slit and sprayed against the back wall of my vagina. He pulled back and thrust again, spraying another huge load of semen into my vaginal canal. Then again, and again, and again.

It tipped me over the edge. Feeling his cock jerk and his warm cum flooding my vagina set me off. My pelvic muscles went into spasm, clutching and releasing in time with his ejaculations, trying to milk every last drop of his semen. My cervix dipped down with each contraction, its entrance touching the pool of semen inside me. I felt a huge emotional surge at the thought of his millions of sperm swimming up my uterus, searching vainly for an egg to fertilise, and tears filled my eyes.

Eventually, we both stopped moving. I could feel an itch around my labia as his semen oozed out, wetting our pubic hair and running down his scrotum.

“You’re good at this,” I breathed into his ear, “your wife is really lucky.”

“Unfortunately, she’s not that interested any longer,” he replied.

“Oh, that’s a shame. But then I think that happens quite often. Women get complacent.”

“You’re not complacent.”

“No, I’m not. But I’m also not a good role model. I’ve not been the most faithful of wives.”

“What about your husband? Doesn’t he mind?”

“He doesn’t know, and I mean to keep it that way. He’s a good man, father, and husband, and he doesn’t deserve a wife who cheats on him, but I can’t help myself. I need more than he’s able to give.”

“Would you like to see me again?”

“What do you think?” I asked, innocently.

“I think the answer is yes, and that it won’t be long before you ask me to come and fuck you.”

I giggled, then licked his ear.

“You’re so right,” I said, then straightened up to look down my body to see our joined bodies, our pubic hairs intermingled, before lifting myself off his now semi-erect cock. It plopped out of my vagina to rest on his pubic hair, followed by a wad of semen that flowed out and fell onto his cock before slithering down onto his abdomen.

I clenched my pubic muscles, forcing more of his semen out, then lowered my hips and rubbed my slit on his slippery cock while I looked at his face.

“I don’t think I can,” he said, but I could feel his cock swell.

“I don’t want you to do anything, and we haven’t got time, anyway. I’m just having a bit of fun.”

I carried on sliding for a few minutes, then lifted myself off his body and got off the massage table. He reached out a hand and felt my slit, then sat up and also got off the table.

We both retrieved our clothes and got dressed, after which he quietly unlocked the door and took his bag into the entrance hall. I opened the window to get rid of the strong smell of sex, then went into the kitchen to fetch a cloth to clean up the messy trails of semen on the table and the floor, before joining him in the hall.

“Here,” he said, handing me his business card, “keep this handy next time you need a massage.”

“You mean from this thing?” I said, grasping his genitals through his sweatpants.

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Will you be coming to treat my husband again this week?”

“Probably. It depends on whether John is better or not.”

“Well, if you do, make sure you don’t have any more appointments.”

He leaned forward and kissed me, then turned around and opened the door. I walked with him to his car. He got in and settled himself, then wound down the window.

“Till next time,” he said.

“Can’t wait,” I replied, after which he drove off.

I returned to my house and tidied up everything before going upstairs to see if my husband was awake. He wasn’t, so I left quietly and went downstairs to sit in the living room and think about what had just happened.

It had been nearly a year since I’d last had sex, and today I realised how much I’d missed it. I’d been very lucky that John was ill and that Steve was standing in for him. He had a good-sized penis, and he knew how to use it. I’d had some really good orgasms.

Most of all, though, was the realisation that I needed sex, good, raw sex, with a man who was uninhibited and knew how to pleasure a woman. So I decided that I would now make sure that I got it, starting with Steve.

I did, however, feel some pangs of guilt, even though I’d thought I wouldn’t, but they would not stop me. I’d just have to be careful.

As I was reflecting on all of this, I heard my husband come down the stairs and into the living room.

“Hello, love,” he said, “has the physio gone?”

“Yes, he has,” I replied. “He left a little while ago. I asked him if he would give me a massage, and he did. I feel much better for it.”

“I’m pleased you did. He’s very good with his hands, and he knows how to get the body working properly.”

“Oh, I agree with you. He’s very talented.”

“Well, perhaps we’ll get him again.”

“Indeed. Would you like some tea?”

“That would be nice.”

“I’ll go and make some now.”

I walked to the kitchen and put on the kettle. As I waited for it to boil, I put my hand down the front of my slacks and felt between my legs. The gusset of my panties was wet and slimy with the semen that was still oozing out of me. I pulled my hand out and sucked my fingers, wondering whether I could wait until the end of the week …