Sara And ‘The Man’

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There was no doubt in Sara Bastin’s mind that the arrival of the person she called ‘the man’, had saved her marriage. Too often her times alone in their large house had her worrying over what had been two years of frustration with her husband Gordon.

Gordon was handsome, sturdily built, great company, and she only discovered after a few weeks of chaste courtship, that he was very rich. Gordon Bastin had his own thriving financial business in the city. After a luxurious wedding, they had honeymooned in Paris, where Sara had her first insights into Gordon’s inability to rise to the occasion. Having had only two drab affairs before her marriage she had been looking forward to real fulfilment. No such luck.

He had purchased their beautiful six bed-roomed house, set in its own grounds, which Sara sometimes felt was really too large for just the two of them. They had a wide circle of friends, were invited to lavish dinners, but, sometimes she had to check herself from thinking how she would prefer a two up, one down, if only Gordon could stoke her fires.

So many evenings in those early months, they had retired to bed, had kissed, touched, and brought themselves to that ultimate moment of entry. That was when Gordon’s penis, never fully charged, inevitably went totally limp, or, as Sara guided it in its semi hard state towards her entry, he would gasp, and shoot white streaks into her bush.

On one occasion, hoping that a blowjob might help him, she had found her face and hair liberally spattered before his penis was no nearer than six inches from her mouth. Gordon was so devastated himself, and she could never tell him how utterly frustrating it was for her. But he knew.

So often their sessions ended with him getting her to climax by using his fingers on her tender parts. He became quite good at it, but it could never recompense for the full sexual joy of having him inside her.

They were twenty one months into their married life when Gordon declared that he was going to see a sex therapist to try to resolve his problem. Sara felt so sorry to see him in the depths of despair at his own inadequacy. In spite of everything, Sara loved him dearly, and hated to see his impotence, dragging him down from the vital character he had once been..

Apparently the therapist had been helpful, he had thought it was probably a psychological problem, and he had made some suggestions that they might try to improve their sex life. But after a further three months, no notable improvement was apparent.

They had been married for exactly two years when, what Sara was later to call, ‘that special Monday’, came along. It was a bright July day. Sara had prepared Gordon’s breakfast as usual. She had watched him, in his smart grey suit and blue shirt, go through his daily ritual, of sipping a last mouthful of coffee, giving her a quick kiss, before, brief case in his left hand he marched to the front door.

On this particular Monday, when he had opened the door, he had looked back at her. His smile was broad as he asked, “You going to wear some clothes today?” His eye wandered up and down her body, semi exposed in her loosely belted robe.

“What would you suggest?”

Gordon glanced outside at the weather, “Looks like being a scorcher. You’d be better in something summery.”

With that, he was gone, and she waited, as she always did, until she’d heard his Jaguar start up, and drive away. Then, with an unspecified excitement rising inside her she hurried upstairs to her bedroom. Something summery?

In no time, she’d dressed in a thin, silken, button up dress, thin panties, and no bra. Sara was just a little proud of the firm standing of her breasts. She scampered downstairs and went into the kitchen, picked out one of her cookery books and began selecting a meal she could prepare for Gordon when he got home that evening.

Having chosen a recipe, she was checking that she had the necessary ingredients, when there was a rather loud knock on the door. She glanced at the clock, which showed just after ten. As she hurried through the hall, she wondered why she should feel slightly nervous. Being alone in the house never usually worried her.

Opening the door, she drew a deep breath at the sight of the tall, good looking man standing there, a warm smile on his face. He was wearing blue jeans, with a red checked shirt, sleeves rolled up tight over muscular arms, and Sara was quite taken by the utter masculinity of him. Her heart was beating just a little faster, as she asked what he wanted.

The man’s eyes regarded her coolly, as he replied, “Excuse me for the intrusion, madam, I’m from pest control,” And he held up what looked like an identity card, which Sara had little time to inspect as her eyes took in his imposing figure. “We’ve had reports of a rat escort ataşehir infestation in the area, and I’m being charged with ensuring all houses are clear.”

“A rat infestation?” Sara asked, wondering about this feeling she was having, this mixture of hope and fear.”We’ve had no rats.”

“No, madam, but we’re just playing safe. Would you allow me to inspect your downstairs regions.” Sara wasn’t sure whether a smirk crossed his face at the way he had phrased the question, but he went on. “You do have a cellar?”

Sara nodded, and when he asked if she could show him, she stepped to one side to let him in. His body squeezed along her side as he entered. Hadn’t she left enough space for him?

Leading him to the cellar door, she was asking herself ‘would I normally allow a man into the house so easily?’ She opened the cellar door and reached for the light switch, as he attempted to squeeze past her, and for a second time his body was pressed against hers, so briefly, yet so tellingly. She was beginning to feel worryingly warm in her lower body.

The man went quickly down the stairs, and took, what Sara thought was a cursory look around the edges of the walls. “Yes,” he called, “if you could just take a look at this.”

Uncertainly, Sara moved down the stairs, very aware that he was below her, looking up her skirt, she was sure. Once down she followed him to one corner, “I always look for a place where an entry can be made. A place like this, feel.”

Sara bent and held out a hand to where he was pointing, where there was a slight crack between wall and floor. As she groped, he leaned over, took her wrist and guided her fingers to a small fissure.

“There, feel it? I like to fill all cracks.” And as she stood up, he did not immediately release her wrist so that, momentarily he had it trailing up his sturdy thigh.

Her face red, and her blood pounding, Sara stood up as the man thanked her for her cooperation, and then said, “Could I trouble you for a drink of water?”

Sara led the way upstairs, wondering if that was genuine moisture she could feel between her thighs, and she was also wondering where his eyes were looking as he climbed the stairs close behind her.

She led him into the kitchen, and knowing she was entering dangerous territory, she asked, “Would you prefer a cool beer?”

“That would be very kind of you.” He seemed to be standing unnecessarily close behind her as she opened the fridge door. Nervously placing two cans of beer on the bench, she stretched up to the cupboard for two glasses.

“You have a husband?” the man asked, and now he was standing really close.

“Of course,” she said, her hands frozen at the cupboard door, as she added, “And I love him very much.”

“Good,” he said, and the next moment she felt him pressed against her back, as he added, “But–,” and his hands wrapped around her to spread wide over her belly. “– does he fuck you?”

That word hung in the air, as Sara desperately asked herself why she wasn’t struggling. Why should breathing be so difficult? She just couldn’t concentrate on anything. Something was going to happen, and she couldn’t duck away from the idea that she wanted it to happen soon.

All she could manage was the breathless statement, “You’re no pest controller, are you?” Something hard was pressed against her buttocks, something she feared, or something she longed for. The time was near. Time to challenge or time to scream? But she knew very well that she wasn’t going to scream, knew well that the moistening between her thighs was real. The man behind her had an erection—for her.

“What time does he get home?” his voice was barely a whisper.

“Why are you here?”she asked, ignoring his question, almost stupefied by the emotions that were running through her whole body. The man’s hand had undone one of the buttons on her dress and was now sliding over the bare skin of her belly. Did her skin actually tingle under his touch? Could she keep any kind of control? Why wasn’t she stopping him? Her breathing became even more irregular, as though she’d run a mile race.

“I’ve been observing you for a long while. Call me a stalker if you like.” And his chuckle beside her ear wasn’t at all frightening. “I think you know why I’m here. I’m here to satisfy you.”

Yes, she did know why he was there. It was like something preordained. But, God, how she wanted it to start. Twisting her body round so that she was facing him, she cried, “Prove it!” And her mouth mashed against his. Instantly, his tongue was searching for hers, and he was clutching her tight against him, half lifting her so that she could feel the bulge in his jeans, pushing into that part of her where she needed it so much.

Their lips still clamped together, the man eased back and began kadıköy escort bayan to unbutton her dress with one hand, while the other reached for her bare breast as it came free. Sara wrestled with his belt buckle, and pushed at his jeans.

Crazily, still kissing, they staggered across the floor, like drunken dancers, as he ripped her flimsy panties away, and Sara managed to push jeans and boxer shorts down.

His erection was freed. She couldn’t see it, but her hand reached for it, and it felt like a hot steel bar, as their staggering brought the back of her thighs against the kitchen table. Sara knew so well that the next few minutes were crucial. Could this marvellous erect penis achieve placement? Could it? Would it? She longed for it, craved it, and the man was leaning her back on the table.

My God, was he going to do it? Was she going to feel the reality after such a long time? There had been little real foreplay. On this occasion she needed no foreplay. She desperately needed penetration.

All in one movement he was over her and inside her. His solid penis was filling her, massive, yet travelling so smoothly, that she groaned with the sheer ecstasy of the sensation. This was what she had longed for. This wonder, this passion.

He broke their kiss as he thrust again and again. His face above her revealed his own pleasure as he whispered, “It’s good. It’s going to be better.”

Sara’s whole being was glowing, as her vaginal walls tried to match every thrust he made, while her hips rose to encourage him. He was so powerful, and it was all so surprisingly sustaining that Sara knew she was approaching some massive conclusion.

Just three more strokes and her whole body shook with the exquisite forces that tore through her. Her mind went adrift of the kitchen and was somewhere else, as she climaxed, and realised that he was still pushing into her. That was amazing, unbelievable, but then he gave a loud gasp and his surging penis pressed and released pulse after pulse of his cream deep inside her.

The man lay over her for a while, his head buried against her neck, before he looked into her eyes, and murmured, “It was good.”

She gave a weak half smile, “It was better than just good.”

Before he left, he asked if she would wish him to call again, and Sara had no hesitation in giving her positive answer. Then they agreed that there were to be no names. He was merely ‘the man’, and she would be what he had already called her, ‘madam’.

When Gordon came home that evening, Sara was aware of his eyes on her as they sat at the dining table. “Why are you staring like that?” she asked.

He shrugged, “You look different. Have you had something done?”

She had the answer all prepared, “I went to a beautician. Do you approve?”

Gordon told her she looked amazing, and agreed that she should see the beautician again. He had smiled as he said it, and she had returned his smile. He had just reaffirmed in her mind that the meetings would continue.

And that had been day one. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday since that day, the man would come to the door, always about three quarters of an hour after Gordon left for work. As each week passed, their individual techniques together improved, as they devised all kinds of new activities to feed their lust for each other.

Chasing games were popular, mainly with her running, unclothed, away from him, and wherever he caught her became the place for their coupling. Hide and seek was a favourite too, and, if he couldn’t find her inside fifteen minutes, he had to treat her to every sexual delight she demanded. When he hid, if she hadn’t found him, within fifteen minutes her first act had to be a complete blowjob, although sometimes he would permit a 69. If a search was completed successfully in the time, Sara was always the winner/loser because the rule was instant intimacy, which had to take place at the hiding place. So it was sensible to find somewhere comfortable.

Foolishly, one Friday, Sara had hidden in a tiny alcove on the corridor of the second floor, hoping he would just run past. He didn’t. Triumphantly, he had stood in front of her, his erection pointing at her naked form, as she cowered back against the narrow wall.

“Please, sir, let me go,” she giggled, knowing exactly what was coming, and it came very fast indeed. The man pressed his body against her, pinning her against the wall, as he slid his eager erection between her compliant thighs, and up into her equally eager vaginal passage.

His hefty thrusts lifted Sara off her feet, as the friction of his magnificent rod electrified her whole body, and she was able to wrap her legs around him to be skewered there, as they each quickly surrendered to the throes of their passion. Exhausted they collapsed, escort bostancı clasped together, laughing, on the corridor carpet.

On that occasion, they managed, eventually, to struggle to a bed, where, after a long rest, snuggled together, he took her hand and led it down his body. Sara was amazed that his penis was erect once more.

“God, you’re hungry today.” Sara said, in a genuine surprised tone.

“He is,” the man affirmed. He sat up and looked down into her face. “Before I go, how about a tour, and a gentle farewell screw?”

That’s how it developed hour to hour Sara never knew what direction their passion would take. In this case she knew exactly what was coming, and she was hot and eager. She had no objections especially since she knew how much he enjoyed it.

So she lay back as the man sat right up over her with his erection up over her head. Without guiding it himself, he trailed it through her dark hair, only touching it to wrap some of her hair around it.

“I love that feeling,” he whispered.

He moved his body so the penis trailed across her cheek, over her lips, at which point he said, “Tongue.” And Sara dutifully put her tongue out to lick the solid member as it passed, to run on down her neck and trace along her shoulders.

The man shuffled again so that his erection slid onto her upper chest, and he moved her arm up so that his rod could be pushed firmly into her armpit. Sara knew to bring her arm down tight and imprison him in that position.

She didn’t keep it there long, and the man leaned over her so that the erect penis bumped free over her breasts, one and then the other, giving little stabs at each nipple as it travelled. It stopped between the breasts, pointing upwards and the man placed a hand on each breast and pushed them together around it .

While in that position he gave a few hip thrusts so that, on the forwards push, the bulbous head came close to Sara’s chin, and by raising her head she could just get her tongue tip at the tiny split in the penis head. It was always pleasing for her to hear his appreciative grunt.

Next the roaming penis was traversing her belly, ploughing into her bush and by this stage Sara would know she had moistened once more. But, ever devious, the man sat back and turned Sara over to lie on her stomach, in which position he parted her thighs. She felt the penis begin trekking over her buttocks and down the inside of one thigh, returning up the inside of the other.

Now the man parted her buttocks, and his rod was coasting along the widened crack, briefly he pushed her cheeks together to hold the penis there. When it was released it drifted to touch her anus. Sara’s breath quickened. They had talked about daring to do that sometime, but so far had always pulled back from a full anal entry. The quick dart of the penis head into the small aperture had her wondering how exciting it might be.

But the penis moved on, and the man had it lying along the length of her labia, where he swayed his hips to have it trailing back and forwards for a short while. Sara loved having the warmth of it there. Loved it more when the man used his thumbs to part her labia, and the penis head on its forward trundle touched Sara’s clitoris, again and again.

Sara felt her moistness increasing, and was delighted when the man reached for a pillow to tuck under her lower belly. This lifted her buttocks, and presented her vaginal entry for his next move. She could hardly wait. From a cool beginning she was now hot for what he was about to do.

She wasn’t disappointed, as the man rolled between her parted thighs, and presented his erection at her entry. It was Sara’s own jerk of her hips which welcomed it inside. The man pushed, ever so slowly, so that the journey up towards Sara’s cervix was exquisitely long, and the drawback was equally slow and deliberate.

Sara’s whole vaginal area was aflame once more. Her nerve ends were rejoicing at this calmly seductive movement. The man and Sara kept it at that pace for several minutes. In one sense, Sara never wanted it to end, this soothing, sensuous togetherness, but on another level her mind was looking forward to those final desperate, delicious, devastating thrusts.

For only a moment the man slid his hand under her to stroke her clitoris. That set her totally alight, and, just as she began pushing her hips back against him more eagerly, so his pace increased. Faster and faster they bonded together until at last, and in perfect unison, they hit those final bursting thrusts that set them both aglow, as his scrotum evacuated into her eager womb. Their mutual gasps of delight flowed around the bedroom.

Those magical moments with the man were set to go on for at least two months. On his every visit he always asked what time Sara’s husband might be home. That was to become very relevant in time. She loved Gordon, her husband, but so many nights of his sexual failure had made her a desperate woman, and he knew it.

Sara’s further sexual exploits with the man will be found in Chapter 2

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