Yesterday I wrote about how my wife Sandy married Paul, her decent - but boring - first husband. The story was a bit long (sorry) but I felt context would be helpful.

Sandy married Paul in 1971. In those bygone, pre-internet days sexual knowledge was sketchy at best, particularly for "good girls." Skin flicks, as we called them, were usually 8mm films that were shown at stag parties. You had to know that vibrators existed -- and go to a porn shop in a seedy part of town to buy one. Sandy and Paul simply didn't know that the female orgasm existed. As far as they were concerned their sex script was simple: they played around a little (Sandy has incredibly sensitive pink nipples which, I learned, Paul called "puppy dog noses"), he occasionally tried to finger her (which she didn't like, and still doesn't), and then they'd fuck in missionary. Sandy claimed that her vagina is somehow tilted at the wrong angle to permit doggie, but I've always been able to make it work. Paul would cum, roll off, and that was it.

Sandy had a sense that something was missing. She occasionally would have this funny, but very pleasurable, wave of warm feelings that she didn't understand. Even now she will orgasm in her sleep -- making loud moans that naturally wake me up, but not her.

Sandy and Paul migrated from their home country to another more rural country, living in a small company town where Paul worked. He loved hunting/camping weekends with the boys, so he frequently left Sandy alone on Saturday and Sunday.

This was not a good idea.

Sandy found herself daydreaming about fucking Paul's boss. While Paul was trim and muscular, the Boss had the full six-pack and Adonis belt. She watched his every mood at the small community swimming pool. In this country men wore Speedos and she could see that his bulge was larger than other men's.

But he was married and Sandy was married.

Sandy worked in the company office and saw the Boss frequently. One glorious day he mentioned his wife was going away for a couple of weeks, and Sandy (knowing Paul would be going hunting) said she'd be alone and would love to cook him dinner. She was surprised when he accepted.

Sandy fussed over the meal all day Saturday, and then over her appearance. It was summertime, and the company cottages were not air-conditioned. Sandy wore a simple fitted t-shirt, without a bra, and shorts.

The Boss arrived on time, with a bottle of wine for the table. He, too, had opted for a simple white t-shirt and shorts -- the standard attire in their little town. They had pre-dinner drinks, shared his bottle of wine at dinner, and then went to the porch for glasses of Scotch. By this time both of their t-shirts were soaking with sweat. Sandy told the Boss it would be fine if he took off his t-shirt, telling him she'd seen him shirtless many times at the pool. He happily obliged.

The Boss told Sandy she could also take off her t-shirt, and she wasted no time slipping it over her head. Sandy said, although this seems improbable to me, the Boss had not detected earlier she wasn't wearing a bra. He expressed embarrassment at the sight of her perky breasts and apologized.

Sandy said nothing, walked over and took his hand and guided him to the bedroom. She wasted no time removing his shorts -- they had an elasticated waistband. He'd gone commando, so his hard cock popped up and caught her attention.

Like many guys, I've tried to discuss dick sizes with Sandy, and she professes to neither remember nor care. To an extent, I think she's being honest with me. But without my asking Sandy told me that the Boss had by far the largest cock of the (allegedly) three erect cocks she'd seen.

He took off her shorts, leaving her panties on, and gently laid her on the bed. He lay down beside her and kissed her with more passion than she'd experienced. He told her that he'd also watched her around the pool and had thought how fortunate Paul was to have such an attractive wife.

The Boss then got up and slid off her panties before buzzing his face into her pussy. Paul had tried this once, or maybe twice, before. She didn't much like it -- it felt "odd" -- and Paul was happy to stop doing it and get right to the fucking part. The Boss, however, knew what he was doing and she found herself moaning and purring.

Soon she said, "fuck me, fuck me please."

She'd never said that before, to anyone. The Boss reached over and grabbed a pillow and put it under her butt. He then fucked her. Show shallow strokes, gradually increasing in depth and frequency, and then pausing before he reached the point of no return. The sweat was pouring off him. He started calling her name, looking deep into her eyes. Paul was silent, and kept his eyes closed. The boss finally exploded inside her. She commented about the amount of cum and he explained that he and his wife rarely fucked.

Sandy and the Boss rested for a few minutes before starting the second round -- and this time, in doggie, he showed Sandy that her vagina was not a medical oddity as he entered it quite easily. This time he pulled out and shot another load of cum up her sweaty back.

When he left the Boss told Sandy that this could never happen again. And, of course, she knew that. She'd had a great time and the best fucking (twice!) she'd ever experienced. But still no orgasm.

That would come later.