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While our sexual ardors cooled over time, we never really lost our affection for public sex. My wife was forty and feeling her oats. She’d regained her figure and was looking as hot as ever.

It was the end of summer and we were visiting my daughter at Shakespeare Camp in Staunton, VA. It’s a quaint, small town with a woman’s college, and a replica of The Globe Theatre.

It’s also home of the Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library. My daughter was in rehearsal for the evening performance and we had some alone. We walked over to the library and it was closed.

However, there was a small,secluded courtyard adjacent. It was a walled area, lined with a landscaped garden. Pretty. Secluded.

Ever the opportunist, I walked up behind my wife and slid my hands around her waist. I kissed her neck and moved my hands up slowly, cupping her breasts and rubbing her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. I rubbed my hardening cock against her leg. She moaned, pushing backwards into me, then stiffened and stopped. “We can’t do it here, we’ll get caught” she whispered.

Disappointed as I was, I acquiesced to her request. Besides, it was nearly time for us to leave for the final evening performance. We rushed back to the hotel to clean up and change. One thing I always loved was watching my wife dress for a date. She took forever and was known for the way she put herself together. She wore a knee length skirt and a revealing blouse. No bra. No panties. She looked over at me smiling. She knew that I’d noticed.

It was a warm summer night and the scent of her perfume hung in the air as we walked hand in hand to the theatre. The performance went well. My daughter acquitted herself admirably as Lady Macbeth, though I’m not sure she grasped the psychosexual nature of Macbeth’s relationship with his wife.

After the show,we briefly met with my daughter before she went off to the cast party. More alone time. That was fine with me, except there’s not a whole lot to do in Staunton on a saturday night.

As if acting on an impulse, my wife grabbed my hand and said, “Come with me.” We walked at a brisk pace and it wasn’t long before I realized we were going back to the library. The courtyard was partially illuminated by the ambient light of the apartments surrounding us. The windows were open. We heard music and voices.

We made our way towards a secluded bench at the far end of the courtyard. We sat and kissed and, of course, my hands strayed, knowing that she was sans panties or a bra. As her hand wandered over my crotch and discovered that I had gone commando too.

What happened next surprised me. She stood up quickly. I thought she’d had a change of heart and was ready to leave. Instead, she placed her left leg on the bench, and splayed her right leg outwards, like a dancer working out at the bar. With her left hand she hiked up her skirt, with her right she pushed me down on my knees, and pulled my head towards her pussy. It was like a choreographed scene in a porn video. Only it was real.

My heart was beating furiously and I teased her lips and sucked on her clit. At the same time, I could hear voices and music, signaling the proximity of an audience. Something about being seen or getting caught, had fueled our sex life and seemed imprinted on our psyches.

After years of marriage, I knew exactly where to touch her and within minutes I felt her shaking and convulsing. Just like that she came furiously, crying out. My face was covered in her cum and I couldn’t help but inhale her sublime scent.

I thought someone had heard us for certain. Knowing that I still had to cum, she surprised me once again. Leaning over the arm of the bench, she placed her right leg on the bench and flipped her skirt up. She bent forward, inviting me in. We fucked fast. I came fast too, but what a satisfying exchange it was.

We walked back to the hotel, giggling like teenagers. She turned to me and said, “I can feel your cum running down my legs”

“You mean the ‘milk of human kindness’ I responded.