That Kiss

My husband and I were leaving a family party when an uncle reached out to hug me goodbye. We leaned in for a cheek kiss, but our lips met accidentally instead. As short as it was, it seemed to linger on my lips. The seconds seemed to stretch on forever. I resisted the urge to open my mouth, keeping my lips pursed in a tight pucker despite my wanton desire. I fought the temptation of grabbing the back of his head to kiss him harder. I don’t know whether he pulled away or I did, but it lasted longer than either of us expected.

During the drive home, I kept replaying it in my head and found myself getting more and more aroused. My panties were drenched by the time we pulled into our driveway. I don’t know how to explain the attraction. I had only met him briefly at our wedding, to thank him for coming. I do remember thinking that he looked stunning for an older man, with silvery grey hair, a neatly groomed handlebar mustache, and a sculpted beard.

That evening, I tried to initiate sex with my husband, but was quickly shot down because it was late. I lay there thinking, “Fucker! You get to roll me over in the middle of the night cause you got a hard-on, but we never do it when I’m horny!” I consoled myself knowing that before long he would be snoring away peacefully, and I’d slip away to diddle myself silly so I could sleep.

I waited until his snoring started in earnest to slip from under the covers. I quietly made my way to my office on the first floor. From there I’d be able to hear if my husband came looking for me. I closed the door behind me and went to the bottom drawer of my desk. There, hidden behind all the clutter, was old faithful. It was my vibrator from before my husband and I met. I planned to throw it away after we married, but soon found that I would need it almost as much as I had before.

I sat on the pullout sofa that was too new to get rid of, so we stuck it in here. Propping myself up on the arm of the sofa, I began to fantasize about what happened. It felt exhilarating and dirty at the same time, and I came quickly as my mind wandered about being in Mark’s arms. As soon as I climaxed, the guilt flooded in. I’d only been married a year, and here I was having sexual fantasies about another man.

Wild accusations flashed through my head. Everything from infidelity to incest. “Incest?” I wondered. “Is it incest? He’s my husband’s uncle, not mine,” my mind raged on. Even with the question of incest rolling around my head, another wave of arousal swept over me, and I began rubbing and squeezing my clit. “Ahh, God! Uncle Mark,” I moaned softly as an orgasm flushed through me.

It was one a.m. by the time I crawled back into bed. Even after playing with myself for over an hour, images and thoughts of Uncle Mark kept slumber at bay. Somewhere in the restless hours before dawn, I had come up with the idea to get Mark’s phone number out of my husband’s phone. I imagined how that conversation would go: “Uh, Hi Mark. It’s Jess. Yeah, I wanted to talk about the kiss from the other night. Um, would you like to get coffee or….” Needless to say, I didn’t get any sleep that night. I would make a point of sneaking Mark’s number so I'd have it if I worked up the courage to call.

By the next morning I’d made up my mind to call Mark, while my husband was at work. It couldn’t hurt to ask about it, in a non-confrontational sort of way. If it were unintentional, then fine; it would be forgiven and forgotten. “But what if he’d meant to do it?” I dialed his number around noon, hoping that I’d catch him at lunch.

“Hello.”
“Hi Mark, It’s Jess. I, uh, um,” I stammered.
“Oh, hey, Jess.”
“I. I wanted…”
“That kiss? Yeah. I don’t kno...”
“Why didn’t you turn away?” My quiet, impish demeanor shocked me. At least I could have sounded indignant, demanding an answer. But I came across as an enamored schoolgirl.
“Ask yourself the same question. Seriously, why didn’t you? You felt it, too. You can’t deny that there was something there. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to try it again to see if it was real.”

That certainly wasn’t the response that I was expecting, but the thought did pique my curiosity.

“When?” I asked with a little too much enthusiasm.”
“Anytime. Just tell me where.”
“There’s a little park on the North side of town. It’s the one right off highway…”
“I know the one. Twenty minutes?”
“I’ll be there.” I rushed out of the house before I could talk myself out of going.

Every time I questioned what the hell I was doing, my foot pressed harder on the gas pedal. I spotted him at the far end of the park, walking to a secluded picnic table behind a stand of trees. I took a deep breath before rushing to him.

An animalistic hunger came over me, and the next thing I knew, we had our arms wrapped around each other in a passionate embrace. This time, when our lips met, we didn’t hold back. His tongue was in my mouth as soon as my lips parted.  I thought. “My God. I’ve never even kissed my husband this passionately.”

One of Mark’s hands cradled the back of my head while his other slid up my back.

“Hmm. No bra?” he snickered.
“Bra? Oh my god! I’m so embarrassed,” my brain screamed when I realized that in my eagerness to meet with him, I’d left the house only wearing my leggings and a crop top.

I melted at the touch of his finger on my bare breast, falling into his arms when he moved his hand to my front as he kissed me again. “Oh, god,” I breathed as our lips parted.  

Mark sat on the edge of the table as I let his hands roam freely over my tits. He lifted my shirt, exposing my double D’s—the warmth of his breath sent tingles through my twat as he lowered his mouth to my nipple. He slipped my top over my head, ravenously sucking my breasts, while flicking my nipple with his tongue. Sploosh! I gushed into my panties.

“You must think I’m a real slut,” I asked as I deliberated my next move.
“No, not a slut. There’s no denying that there’s an attraction here, so, no, you’re not a slut.”

I scooted my leggings from under my ass and pulled them down, kicking one leg off, so I could spread my legs wide. “Lick me,” I said, tilting my pelvis toward him. It was more of a command than a request. I craved oral and fantasized about it often when I’d creep down to my office in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, my husband loathed it, calling it an abomination and unnatural. Here in the woods with Mark, I was going to take as much as I could get.

Mark knelt between my legs—his broad-tongued strokes licked me from my taint to my clit. He sucked my clit between his teeth as he’d done to my nipple, making my knees quiver and shake as I came.

He stood at the end of the table, rubbing it along my vulva. Mark was clueless as to how close I was to letting him fuck me right there and then. It would have only been a few more licks, and I’d have let him pop it in my tootsie.

“We can’t go that far,” I said, pushing him back so that I could get down on my knees. I slowly slid my lips over the length of his shaft, savoring every inch of his glorious cock. I sucked his cock into my mouth while I slid my tongue in and out along his vein.

Mark placed his hands on the top of my head, following its movements as I polished his knob. It took a couple of minutes for my muscle memory to kick in before I was able to let my jaw relax enough to take him past my uvula and into my throat. I started slamming my mouth on his cock, making gagging noises.

I had him groaning as he tried to hold back. He grabbed the sides of my head, pinning it against the edge of the picnic table, skull fucking me til he couldn’t hold back. “I’m gonna cum, Jess,” he gasped.

“Um, hmm. Um, hmm,” I nodded as he began to fill my mouth. His first spurt of cum hit my uvula with such force it made me gag, and I coughed cum onto the front of his shorts. Although I did manage to gulp the rest down without spilling a drop, as I continued to suck and lick until he went dry.

“Jesus, Jess!” he said as I popped his cock out of my mouth.

Mark spun me around and bent me over the table as soon as I stood. He got behind me to give me another tongue-lashing, and rapidly brought me to another series of climaxes.

“Stop, Mark,” I begged. “You have to stop before it goes any further.”

“Jess…”

“Shh. We can’t,” I cut him off by kissing him before I changed my mind and let him fuck me.

The guilt of infidelity rushed in again as soon as I started the drive home. Was I turning back to my sluttish ways from college? Memories of my college escapades rushed in. Memories of learning to throat a cock with one of my professors by hanging my head over the edge of his bed. Damn. Now I wish I had done that with Mark. “You are a slut!” I screamed. Mark could hardly think any differently after what I’d just done. “We’d done.” Guilt and all, I found myself fighting regret for not letting him fuck me.