Saturday at 5:30 a.m. — Giselle Renarde

I’m sleeping with a married man.  There.  I had to get that off my chest. 

You’ll understand, I’m sure, if I don’t tell you his name.  After all, he could be someone you know.  Or you may know his wife or his kids.  I wouldn’t want word to get back to them.  And just because he’s cheating doesn’t mean he’s a bad man.  He isn’t bad, he simply has needs.  We all do.

So, what’s it like?  Well, last Saturday was a perfect example.  At 5:30 in the morning, I heard his key in my door.  That smooth metallic noise wakes me every time.  It’s better than an alarm clock.  I had been looking forward to seeing him all week.  I look forward to it every week. 

He tells his wife he likes to jog early in the morning, before pollution envelops the city.  He tells her he enjoys his run better when there are fewer people on the sidewalks, and when the sun hasn’t yet risen.  These are only half-truths, because he actually does jog all the way from his house to mine.  I doubt if his wife even notices anymore when he rolls out of bed before dawn.  I doubt if she ever notices him at all.  That’s fine.  I’ve taken it upon myself to notice him.  In fact, I could notice him all day and all night, if I ever had the opportunity.

I emerged from the depths of slumber as he kicked off his shoes in my front hall.  I scrambled out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom.  When you only get to see your lover once a week, you always want to look and smell and taste perfect.  And morning breath is a major turn-off.  When I turned off the bathroom light, my eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough to the darkness of my bedroom. 

I asked, “Where are you?” as I walked straight into him.  Ouch.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” I told him. 

He concurred with his standard stand-by.  “Likewise.” 

“All week I’ve been waking up and asking myself, ‘Is it Saturday yet…?’”  That’s all I managed to say before he kissed me.  An entire week’s worth of kisses in less than one minute. 

When I opened my eyes I found that they had adjusted to the darkness and I could see my lover.  Even after two and a half years, it’s a thrill to see this man in my bedroom.  He was still dressed, so I tore off his jogging shorts, followed by his red Reebok T-shirt, his running socks and his black underwear.  I stepped back and, encircling him, took a good look at his tight butt and his athletic thighs.  All that jogging… Then I ran my hands over his chest, smooth with only a touch of hair around his little pink nipples.  Throwing his arms around me, he squeezed my body tightly against him.  I’ve always loved that sensation of his chest and my breasts being separated only by my thin silk negligee. 

I dropped to my knees to do what I know his wife won’t.  His cock was still lifeless when I took it between my lips.  The sensation of a soft cock against the walls of my mouth was hilarious.  What did it feel like?  Like a snake, maybe.  Malleable, like I could have tied it in a knot.  I took it all in and, as I encircled his limp dick with my tongue, I started to feel it jerk and grow.   As I sucked it, of course, it got bigger and bigger until it his meat was so large I couldn’t keep it all in my mouth anymore. 

Getting below him, I licked his balls, taking each in my mouth before working on the sensitive head of his penis.  He made those noises I love to hear, sort of like a snort and a sigh, and he said my name while he stroked my hair.  It’s great to hear him say my name.  I love that. 

Anyway, I figured it was my turn, so I lay back on the bed to let him ravage me with his tongue. He licked my pussy lips hard with a warm, wet tongue.  That really got the juices flowing.  Then he sucked on my clit while squeezing my nipples through my silk negligee and, let me tell you, nothing else in the world feels that good.  No, that’s a lie, because what he did next was even better.

His cock was large with anticipation, and just the sight of it made my pussy whimper.  Oh, I just had to have it!  I had to feel that big slab of meat inside of me, and I don’t mind saying so.  The sight of my lover holding his cock by its base, guiding it toward me, made me quiver.  My pussy opened up for him to ram it in me, hard and strong.  I couldn’t help but think how hot he looked while he was doing it.  His lean stomach muscles, embraced by only the slightest layer of insulation, tightened with every thrust.  I ran my fingers through the dark curls above his hard rod.  He has the most incredible body! 

Rolling onto my stomach, I half stood on the floor and half leaned against my bed.  He came at me from behind, reaching around to rub my clit while I reached back to fondle his balls.  I love the way they feel in my hand, squishy and soft.  With both hands, he took firm hold of my hips and plunged into me so hard I could feel the pressure throughout my core.  While his fingers grasped my hip bones and his thumbs dug into my butt, I hoped and prayed they would leave bruises.  That way I would have something physical to remember him by throughout the week.  I love to catch a glimpse of a lovely purple mark on my body and sheepishly recall the naughty act that created it. 

As my man thrust faster, I explored the muscles of his thighs with my hands as he jutted forward into me.  They were eager and hard.  His thighs are his favourite feature, but I’ve always been most fond of his cock.  Rising to the balls of his feet, he held me aloft by my hips.  God, those sexy arms!  My feet weren’t even touching the floor and I had to grab my duvet just to hold onto something.  When I turned in near-ecstasy to gaze at his face, it was practically scarlet, with one vein throbbing at the side of his forehead.  The muscles in his athletic arms pulsed.

“Aren’t I too heavy for this?” I asked, anticipating his response.

“Feathers,” he said with strained laughter.  “You’re heavy as feathers.”  

His cock had a mind of its own.  It rammed so hard and fast into me, I knew my pussy would ache for days.  So much the better.  The dull pain would help me remember this morning throughout the week.  I would do anything for that man.  Thrusting his whole body into mine, he propelled me forward so hard the mattress shifted sideways across the box spring.  When he set my knees down on the dishevelled bed, I could feel his warm lips planting kisses across my back.  He hugged me tightly around the waist, and I knew he was about to come.  

Releasing a whimper like a child’s cry, he collapsed on top of me on the displaced mattress, cuddling against my back.  He may never say it, but that’s how I know he loves me.  We lay like that for a while, our blissed-out bodies in layers, flowing like a waterfall from heads on the mattress to knees on the box spring to feet on the floor.  With his heavy body on top of me, I couldn’t move if I wanted to. 

Eventually, he got up and showered.  I didn’t move a muscle, just absorbed the scent of his body on my skin.  After he dressed, he picked me up and re-oriented me on the mattress, pushing it back into place.  He tucked me into my sheets and duvet, then kissed my lips softly. 

“I’ll see you next week,” he whispered, placing his gentle lips against my forehead.  I listened to the metallic jingle of my lover’s keys as he locked the door on his way out.  It was not yet 6:30 a.m. and already I couldn’t wait for the following Saturday. 

Is it wrong to love a man with a wife and two kids?  I don’t know.  Maybe it is.  But I’m addicted to the very smell of him now, and to the feeling of ecstasy that lingers long after he’s gone.  Looking forward to his next visit gets me through the week.  Anyway, I don’t take up much of his time.  Just an hour each Saturday at 5:30 a.m.

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Giselle’s other sexy stories published here on Every Night Erotica can be found here.

Eroticist, environmentalist, and pastry enthusiast Giselle Renarde is a proud Canadian, supporter of the arts, and activist for women’s and LGBT rights.  For Giselle, a perfect day involves watching a snowstorm rage outside with a cup of tea in one hand and a chocolate truffle in the other. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.

She has another sexy story coming out November 3rd in the anthology “The Bad Girl’s Sweet Kiss” available from http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0049H963C.

For more information on Giselle and her work, visit her website at www.gisellerenarde.webs.com or visit her Donuts and Desires blog at donutsdesires.blogspot.com.