Changing Rooms: How to Cure the Seven Year Itch — Robin Peacock

Stephen and I have been married for six years now, with a year before that living together, so the dreaded seven year itch is upon us. We discussed it over a nice meal with a bottle or two of Chablis last week, deciding that we should re-energise our love life. Stephen, being a man, said we needed to re-energise our sex lives as he still loves me like crazy, or so he says! We set out a few ways we could accomplish this, one of which was to take sex out of the bedroom. For the last few years we have only ever used the bed as our place of worship. It’s a great place, don’t get me wrong, and it’s the most comfortable place to have sex, for sure. It’s just that now we are in our thirties and nothing seems as much fun as it was when we met in our early twenties. We both smiled as we recalled our early days, utilising both back and front seats, and the nicely curved bonnet of his green Mini Cooper. I burned my bum one time as I sat on the hood while he took his time pumping away. I was so horny I didn’t notice the heat from the radiator under the hood permeating into my backside until after we’d both come like crazy. I took my hands from behind his neck and put them down on the hot bonnet next to my arse, shit it was hot! I had to have cream rubbed on the burn every day for a week after that little episode. Actually, it didn’t really need creaming at all but I didn’t tell Stephen that.

Putting the new regime into practice came sooner than we figured. Yesterday, Monday, the weather was nice and warm, a perfect day for shopping if we wanted to avoid the crowds. I told Stephen that I needed some new underwear, which was true. He was quite happy to come with me; he said he needed some socks. He joins me for clothes shopping about as often as he makes the bed, never. We went to Marks & Spencers just after it opened in the morning, it was very quiet. Stephen had the morning off from the doctor’s surgery. We wandered idly around the store. I collected six or seven different sets of underwear from the racks before going to the changing rooms. As no one was about, I suggested that Stephen should join me, to give me his considered opinion! He glanced around a bit sheepishly, took note that no-one was interested in us, and then followed me in. We chose the last in the line of the five changing cubicles. We stepped inside; I locked the door and hung my light summer jacket over the little stable door affair. If anyone else came into the changing area they could see that this cubicle was occupied.

I turned around, standing directly in front of Stephen, put my arms around his neck and began kissing him; little gentle kisses, light and fluttery around his mouth and cheeks. Stephen responded with eagerness, kissing me back, getting in the swing of it in a hurry. I figured we had plenty of time but didn’t do anything to stop him. His hands were all over my backside, pulling my cheeks apart with his sensitive, strong hands. My skirt rode up with his pulling, allowing him access to my cotton panties. His hands slid inside, stroking my arse cheeks, dipping down the crack of my bum until he was just touching my puckered hole. I fucking love it when he does that! I could feel my pussy getting ready, moist and relaxed, ready to be filled, and soon.

Brightly lit mirrors covered two walls, allowing us both to observe the action from all sides, repeatedly, on to infinity. Stephen unzipped my short blue skirt, dropping it to the floor then slid my pants down after them. He picked them and the skirt up and hung them on the hook on the back of the door. Whilst he did that, I undid the four buttons on my linen shirt, hanging it on the same hook. Stephen expertly, one handed, flicked the clasp of my pale pink bra, pulled the straps over my arms and I was suddenly naked apart from my two inch heels. We resumed the kissing, this time his left hand was between us, spreading my willing legs, raising my right foot to rest on the little corner seat. His fingers slipped over my wet lips, sliding, probing, teasing, sending shudders across my skin, ripples of lust spread down to my groin. I wanted cock, his cock, inside me, now.

My now engorged clitoris throbbed under his gentle fingertips, my vagina grasped as he slid one, then two fingers deep inside me. Stephen moved my right leg to one side on the bench then sat on what remained of the little bench in the corner. His eyes were glued to my neatly trimmed pubic hair while his fingers maintained their contact, indeed, stayed inside me, as he sat down. His fingers pulled firmly on the front wall of my vagina, pulling my hips forward until his nose rested in my minimalist pubic hair. He inhaled the musky aroma drifting up from my hot vagina. His fingers withdrew from the grip of my cunt, he slipped them into his mouth, sucking, tasting, licking the wetness from them. His tongue flicked out, just the merest touch of the tip hit my exposed clitoris. I shook, wobbled, my legs buckled, Stephen held me up, pushing my upper body back against the cubicle wall.

His licking, sucking mouth suffuses my groin with heat, with pleasure, with feelings we are all familiar with as we approach orgasm. I am not going to take very long, I am nearly there already, it is building from deep inside. All he has to do is keep going, more of the same, more sucking, more licking, more stroking, more of his right hand pinching my hard nipples, more of his tongue lapping my clit and bloody fucking hell, I’m bloody fucking coming like a fucking electrocuted cartoon character, jerking and sparking as the shocks rip through me. I can’t breathe for a moment, I’m gripping his hair, roughly, pulling his face hard into my sopping cunt, I’m still shaking, still coming, still fucking twitching as he keeps fucking licking. Stop! Stop, I gasp as my legs turn to jelly. I turn and grab the top of the door to stop me sliding to the floor

Stephen is still fully dressed, sitting on the little seat. I am now hanging on the door, my eyes peering over the top of the low door. My knees regain some feeling, some strength. I stand and turn, Stephen’s face is soaking wet. He has the broadest grin on his beautiful face. Stephen hands me his handkerchief, I wipe at my wet pussy, removing most of the moisture. I hand it back to Stephen; he sniffs it, grins even more widely then finds a dry corner to mop his face. When we are both done with it, it is pretty wet. He stuffs it in his pocket.

Stephen’s left hand is massaging his cock. Show me, I tell him. He abruptly unzips his trousers, grips both them and his boxer pants and shucks them down to his ankles. His beautiful, circumcised penis stands out to attention like a ramrod, red and swollen. It is as big as I’ve ever seen it. And it’s big, believe me! He begins to masturbate, slowly, while I do a little dance show for him, gyrating my hips, squeezing my fairly adequate breasts together and playing with my nipples. He mutters that he doesn’t have another handkerchief or a tissue handy, I say, it doesn’t matter, I’ll catch it.

He pumps a bit faster now as my hands slide up and down the inside of my thighs, framing my pussy with my open fingers in the shape of a heart. He pumps quickly, then slows, his eyes roaming over my body, top to toe. I raise my right leg again, place my foot on the seat beside him and toy with my clitoris. He begins to grunt very quietly. He resumes the faster pace, quickening in time to my stroking of my pussy, now wet again from the stimulation, the visual in the mirrors, the physical with our fingers and the mental. The mental stimulation is enhanced by the possibility of getting caught.

It seems only to take him about a minute before he hisses through clenched teeth, ‘I’m coming’. As he speaks, I come again, another shuddering bolt through my body, I am pinching my left nipple so hard it hurts and I cry out as I come, a muted whimper through clenched teeth. Stephen slows, I know his rhythm from watching him so many times before, he is close, very close, now he is coming, no holding back now. He squeezes hard as the eruption begins. I quickly kneel down as he begins to come and take the bobbing head in my mouth while he continues to pump himself. I grip the sides of his arse cheeks and he begins to come. I feel hot liquid fill my mouth in jerks as he shoots his hot load into me. I push his squeezing hand away from his engorged cock and continue to pull it into my mouth. A few last drops are dragged forth and he stops shuddering. I think there is more come in my mouth than he normally produces in two or three orgasms. I look up into his eyes as I suck him completely dry. Then for some reason, I think I’m a bit of a harlot actually, I tip my head back, open my mouth and show him his emission. He grunts and says something rude as I let his come slide all over my tongue. Then I swallow, actually, I need to gulp two or three times to get it all down, such is the quantity and the viscosity. He watches me. He tells me that it is the most incredibly erotic thrill he’s ever had.

I am so very horny that I simply stand up, spread my legs and masturbate in front of him. It takes me about thirty seconds. I am so turned on by the situation and the surroundings. He watches me closely while he pulls gently on his still rigid penis. I am looking at the whole picture in the big mirror beside us. I’ve never come so fast in my life before. As I began to come he pulls me to him, kneels down and puts my right leg over his shoulder. He buries his tongue inside me, sucking like crazy and making me come all the harder. I have to hold on to the clothes hooks to stop me from collapsing in a heap on the floor. I seem to be incredibly wet again as his whole face seems to glisten when he eventually pulls away, grinning like a Cheshire cat!

Then I remember; I want his cock inside me. In the blur of orgasms, I’ve quite forgotten. Stephen is holding his still firm cock in his hand, stroking the last remnants of come from the tip. I straddle him; lower myself and he guides the tip to the aiming point. I continue down without pause, his aim is good; my cunt engulfs the rod of flesh. I ride, short strokes, I squeeze, I wiggle and roll my hips. I don’t need long. I can feel orgasm number four is imminent. His cock is hard enough for me to rub one off the base as it kneads my swollen bud. I come with a gush, a shudder, a cry, a sob.

“Everything all right in there?”

I bought four sets by the way! He forgot his socks.

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Robin Peacock is a traveler, gourmet, slightly addicted to sex and enjoys writing about it, a lot! She is currently resting between careers.