I had been with a few other men after having my first orgasm while fucking a man, which I wrote about in my first story. That orgasm was like a drug, and I had a strong desire to experience it again, but unfortunately, I had not found anyone who could do what he had done to me. That all changed one day, while I was working out at the university gym. I did not know his name at the time, but he had broad shoulders, a large chest, and a masculine energy that I was very attracted to at that point in my life. I knew right away that he would be the one who could fill my needs. There was only one problem. I had noticed him, but he had never looked my way. At least that is what I thought.
One afternoon, while I was on the leg press machine, he walked over and asked if he could work in with me. I said yes, and my body began to tingle. We began talking as we did our sets, and he told me his name was Sam, and he had seen me at the gym before. By the time we had finished, he had asked if I wanted to go out for drinks later that night.
We went to a local bar just off campus. It was a time when you could drink wine and beer on premises if you were over 18. We had a few drinks each when he asked if I wanted to leave and go back to his apartment. I quickly said yes, knowing his intentions, but mine were the same.
We stopped a few times and kissed passionately as we walked back to campus, and by the time we got back to his apartment, I could feel the dampness between my legs. We went straight to his bedroom, our hands instinctively finding one another as we undressed. After taking off all his clothes, I saw that in addition to his great looks and muscular body, he was also larger than anyone I had ever been with, unleashing a whole new wave of excitement.
We quickly fell onto the bed in a rush of kisses, our touches searching and eager. Sliding my hand down his body, I felt his strong chest and each ripple of his stomach before gently wrapping my hand around his rigid shaft, feeling his girth as I began to slowly stroke him. At the same time, he slid his hand between my legs and said how wet I was. My response was “I need you to fuck me right now!” and he rolled on top of me with a confidence that was both thrilling and overwhelming.
There was a slight discomfort as he stretched me, but I quickly adjusted to his size, and it quickly turned to pure pleasure. His thrusts were slow and at a steady pace for what felt like 10 minutes before he began to speed up, thrusting harder and faster, and I began to moan loudly. That feeling I had experienced that one time returned, and I felt myself constricting around him as my body surrendered in waves of pleasure that I couldn’t control. He had just succeeded in becoming the second man to give me an orgasm during sex. Before the feeling had subsided, he pushed himself deep inside me, and grunted, then I felt his contractions as he filled me with his seed.
When it was over, he rolled off me, and we lay on our backs next to each other, both breathless and satisfied. We then held each other for a short while before I said I needed to go back to my apartment. After dressing, I went to the bathroom to put myself together for my walk back to my apartment. He walked me to the door, and we kissed one last time before he said he wanted to see me again. The sex was amazing, and I hoped he meant it.
Over the next two years, Sam and I had a relationship that was both passionate and sometimes volatile. We had sex almost every day, and it was very seldom that I did not orgasm. With all the passion came bouts of jealousy, sparking arguments that would drive us apart for days and sometimes weeks, but it was always the sex that would bring us back together.
This all changed when my family experienced an unexpected financial setback, and I was forced to take a full-time job as a receptionist at a bank to cover my tuition. With the new demands of my time, I could spend less time with Sam, and our relationship started to unravel thread by thread.
The final straw was when I met Will. He was working as a loan officer, and after we got to know each other through brief conversations during the day, we decided to go out for drinks one Friday night after work. We had an amazing time talking, and by the end of the night, I had realized I was ready for a relationship with someone that I could imagine spending my life with, and not just one based on hot, passionate sex.
Sam was waiting for me when I got home, and I ended our relationship and Will and I started dating a couple of days later. I did not know it at the time, but Will was not very confident around women, and he was very slow to take the relationship to a physical level. So much so that I began to think he was not really that into me, which is what brings me to the story of the secret I kept from Will for over 20 years.
After breaking up with Sam and before Will and I had sex for the first time, Sam continued to show up at my house uninvited. He would always beg me to get back with him, and even went as far as to say he was planning on proposing to me. Each time I told him I was not interested, but there was still a part of me that enjoyed our physical relationship.
The last time he showed up was on a Friday night while I was getting ready to go to Will’s house. Will had invited me over, saying he wanted to cook dinner for me. This would be the first time I saw his house, but also the first time any man had ever cooked me dinner, making me feel like a real adult. I wanted to look my best and had spent over an hour showering, shaving, and getting ready. I was in my bedroom applying my makeup when I heard a knock at my bedroom door. I was only wearing a soft robe and my sexy laced panties, imagining how I wanted my evening to go.
“Come in,” I called, expecting one of my roommates, but to my surprise, it was Sam. My roommate had let him in and directed him to my bedroom.
Upon entering, he went to my bed and sat down as his eyes swept the room before settling on me. He asked if I was getting ready for a date. I was thinking of saying no, but decided to be honest and said I was. The sadness on his face was unmistakable, and Guilt tugged at me, so I walked to bed and sat next to him to try to offer some comfort. After sitting in silence for what seemed like a wile I put my arm on his shoulder and said I was sorry he was hurting. I should not have done it, because he took this as an invitation and moved his hand between the opening of my robe and put it on my bare thigh, and I immediately felt the heat between my legs. I thought to myself, “Don’t do it; don’t let him seduce you again,” but it was useless. I had not had sex for many weeks and had become very sexually frustrated, and his touch awakened something I could not control.
When he leaned over to kiss me, I did not resist, and that one kiss quickly deepened into something heavier with our past intimacy resurfacing in an instant. The pull of desire was undeniable, and I let myself get swept up in it. There was guilt that flashed briefly, but faded quickly as my very high libido took over.
His lips found my neck as he leaned me back onto the bed, allowing my robe to fall open, leaving my body completely exposed, with the exception of the small piece of cloth of my panties covering my sex. He briefly looked up and down my body before sliding his hand down the front of my panties. Finding my wetness and me not objecting was my unspoken approval, so he stood, removed all of his clothes, and stepped to the side of the bed before reaching under my legs and pulling me to the edge.
I instinctively spread my legs as he put his body between them. Placing my hand around his hardness, I placed him at my opening. He quickly pushed inside me and immediately started pumping in and out of me, both hard and fast. I could only imagine how much he must have wanted me, causing me to quickly orgasm with him finishing shortly afterwards.
As he began to soften, he stood and, without saying a word, got dressed. The silence was thick, and I knew this was the finality of our relationship. He walked to my bedroom door and with bitterness in his voice, muttered, “Hope you enjoy your date tonight," leaving me shaken, but also riddled with guilt, at the realization that the way he just fucked me was not from passion and longing, but pure anger.
Realizing I was going to be late, I quickly slipped back into the shower, desperate to wash away his scent from my skin and what he had left inside me. I dried myself, dressed, and quickly fixed my hair before driving to Will's house. After dinner and a bottle of wine, Will and I made love for the first time. It was not that great because I was so worried about what I had done, and afraid that Will would feel what remained from Sam. I stayed with Will that night, and the next morning we made love again. It was much better, and Will and I would end up marrying a year later.
Over 20 years after that first time, Will and I were staying at a 5-star hotel to celebrate our anniversary. We made love before going out for a romantic dinner. Upon returning to the room, we made love again before falling asleep. The next morning, Will said that because of the nostalgia of it being our anniversary, he thought about the first time we had made love, and how similar it felt to the second time we had sex the night before. He then asked me point-blank if I had been with Sam before we had sex that first time. I was mostly shocked but also afraid of the damage it could do to our relationship, and adamantly denied that I did.
He dropped the subject until the following weekend. We had a few drinks, and he again asked if I had been with Sam that first night. He said he would not be angry since, at that time, we had not even discussed being exclusive. I decided to come clean, exposing the secret I had kept for over 20 years. He was true to his word and did not get angry.
We had the best sex we had had in a long time that night, and afterwards he told me how it had actually turned him on thinking about me being fucked right before him so many years ago. This quickly turned into him fantasizing that I was his hotwife, and we began to role-play during sex. It would normally start with me asking him if he could feel what the man I was with earlier left inside me, and then I would tell him I needed him to reclaim me, causing him to orgasm almost immediately. A few years later, he said he would like to make it a reality. I told him I do not think I could ever do that to him, but there is a part of me that gets turned on thinking of some stranger picking me up and fucking me senseless.
The question is, if it ever did happen, would I tell him, or would it be the beginning of another long-kept secret?
