I now realised that Joan had always thrilled at the thought of exposing herself to men, and imagining what they were thinking about, as they caught a glimpse of her generous cleavage, or sneaked a look up her skirt. When she was alone, she played with herself a lot, thinking about being with a man, or men – quite often in a situation where she was helpless, unable to resist, as he, or they, stripped her clothes away and fondled her gradually exposed charms until lust overtook them and she was forced on to her back, legs held apart, and a succession of long, thick cocks invaded her opened vagina.
Sometimes, I would appear in these fantasies, too, as a watcher, or, occasionally, as a participant, my cock finally plunging into a cunt made slick and slippery by the entrances and exits of those who had gone before.
And these fantasies matched my own. Ever since I had overheard the moving guys in the van, I had increasingly become aroused by the thought of Joan in another man’s embrace – a stranger’s hands fondling those big beautiful tits – Joan’s mouth circling round someone else’s pulsating erection – Joan’s thighs clamping round another man’s pistoning hips as his penis thrust into her open vagina.
In the ensuing weeks, we explored these previously hidden areas and could hardly keep our hands off each other. I found myself thinking of Joan when I was at work. I’d be sitting in an important meeting, feeling an erection growing in my pants as I thought of what I was going to do to her when I got home. Sometimes, I’d take time out, to call her, and tell her what I had planned, and she’d play with herself, on the other end of the line, and tell me what she was doing, so I could hardly stop myself taking my cock out, right there in the office, and masturbating furiously.
But, I knew it was just fantasy. Joan had got a real fright when things with Donald had really hotted up that day and, having come so close to losing control, she was now making sure she didn’t get into such a situation again. Donald still called twice a week, and still got a friendly hug from Joan, on departure, but he now left the laundry in the kitchen, except on one or two occasions when Joan had company, and asked him to take it upstairs, as before, and put it away. But, on those occasions, she made sure none of her underwear or nightwear, was in sight, and she never heard him use the toilet.
My birthday was approaching, and it was Joan who suggested that, so that we could really ‘relax’ and enjoy it, we ask her parents, in Connecticut, to take the kids for a week – to stay with them. They were always asking us to do that and, although we would miss having them around, I agreed without any misgivings. The boys loved visiting their grandparents – and I couldn’t help thinking of how much less inhibited Joan and I could be with our sex life, with the whole house at our disposal for 24 hours a day, if we wanted it.
My cock was constantly stiff with anticipation at the thought of it. I was sure it was on Joan’s mind, too – and she admitted as much as we drove away from her parents’ home to start the journey back to Philadelphia. It was early evening, and she looked breathtaking, to me, in a light sea-green shell top, silky running shorts and a push-up bra which prominently displayed her tits.