DEAR MEMORY

Part III

Dear Memory,

Better news, dear heart. Things are becoming clearer, I know more about myself and where and who I want to be. My life is more stable, my husband silent. To be fair, I should not make it sound to you as if he has been the unloving one in this strained relationship. He is a good man, and deserving of more than I can offer. He married me with the best of intentions… and found a cold and unwelcoming woman in his bed. It was inevitable in a way. The secret passion of my youth that was you, led me to expect the same kind of consideration that you so freely gave to me. It was naïve and unreasonable of me to expect this stranger to know the secret, inner me. It was something that I could never express, and so resented, silently, sullenly. The state of my marriage has more to do with the memories I brought to it, than any thing he did. Recent events have led me to admit this to myself at last. For years my resentment was unconscious, wrapped up as it was in thoughts and feelings that I had thought that I had left safely in the past. He learned to expect my cold sullenness, and his attitude was set by no one else but myself. My recent sudden interest in matters sexual - a stupid attempt to perform oral sex on a suddenly suspicious man… a poorly worded hint at him to try something different, like anal sex. Stupidity, pure stupidity. Attitudes of years are not changed overnight without repercussions.

The suspicions still hang heavy in the air, the raised voices of accusation have fallen silent, but there are enough unspoken thoughts to make any normal conversation a minefield. But with no evidence, and Rani's alibi, there is no more that they can do.

But there is now something else, some new sin to hide. It shames me to confess that our recent tryst has awakened the fires of lust in me. I thought them banked, subdued by time and advancing age. And now I have committed yet another transgression of respectability in my families eyes... but I am sure that yours, my hedonistic memory, will light with unbridled delight. Rani has been, still is, a dear friend. Dear enough to entrust with my dreadful, weighty secret. She is from a wealthy family, born here in the UK, an only child to liberal, westernised parents. She has led the life that I had only dreamed of. She has had lovers, remains unmarried with her thirties approaching. We met through our families, and I fear that the intention was for me to be a suitable role model for her! Instead we became firm friends, and she has been more of an influence upon me, than I on her. Over time I have grown to trust her, confide my unhappiness to her, and have urged her to take full advantage of life and of love. It appears that she has done just that. She had numerous lovers, married men among them. She had hinted at a rich sexual life, dropped casual remarks about being tied up, threesomes and foursomes. She had even told me that she had accepted money, a great deal of money, to sleep with certain wealthy men.

My current indiscretion delighted her. She was more than happy to be my alibi. I had returned to her house after you did those things to me… or the things I did to you, and she saw the change in me quite clearly. The rather prime and proper wife came home looking like someone who had been shagged within an inch of her life. Her words! She, of countless lovers, told me that she was jealous of me - and I glowed with inner pleasure. She also warned me not to let my reawakened lusts affect my relationship with my husband. I wish that I had had the strength to follow her advice. The two weeks of accusatory hell that followed made her warning prophetic. But now to the real reason for this confession.

I stayed with her last weekend, despite my families reservations. They phoned several times, simply to check that I was where I was supposed to be. But that is not the story I have to relate. I confessed to her that I was desperate to see you again… and she wanted to know more. We sat and shared a bottle of wine, and she gently pressed me for details. My hunger for you, my need to share the effect on had on me… I confess that I told her it all. My outrageous performance in that ally way. Her eyes had widened in admiring surprise when I tried to put into words, my hunger to have you inside my body, if only my mouth. My need to relive the heat and passion of a sixteen year old, delighting in making your masculine strength moan and quiver with a touch of my lips. The warmth and tenderness that flooded through my body when your sperm filled my mouth. The heady dejevu as the scent and taste of your seed gushed forth…

I needed to share the intense, pleasurable sensation of your cock thrusting into my pussy, your eyes bright with lust as you gazed down at my wide stretched, cock swallowing cunt. Your weight on me, your mouth. I told her, voice breaking, heat in my face, how you buggered me, an how I urged you on, the language I had used.

Wrapped up in my story, reliving the experience I paid little attention to the effect this was having on Rani. Or myself for that matter. A combination of wine and lust was overtaking us both… The fantasy that we had talked about more than once was now very much on the cards. Rani had hinted in the past that she had made love to women. I had been far too shocked to follow up on her non-to-subtle hints, and made a point of ignoring her. It was not something that I had ever seriously considered. The one or two times, in post coital bliss, it was a fantasy that you had talked about… but never one that I had ever entertained. You would like her. Not beautiful, but defiantly sexy. Rather skinny with a firm, full chest that men seem drawn to.

When she rose from the chair opposite me, I knew what she was going to do, and made no effort to ward her off. I just let it happen. I guess that I wanted it to happen also. My reliving of our night of passion had turned me on, at least as much as it had Rani. The difference was, she was used to doing something about it. She stopped and looked down at me. "I'm as horny as hell". There was a note of apology in her voice, but also a question. "Me too." I managed to nod, and I guess my smile must have been encouraging enough.

How can I describe it to you. I know that it has always been an, er… interest of yours. The "everyman" fantasy you talk about. It has not really been something that I have ever given serious consideration to. I have always found a good looking girl attractive, most women would admit to that much at least. But sex? Are we not supposed to feign outrage and horror at the very thought of it? Maybe - I am now past such displays of hypocrisy. I have thought about making love to another women, more than once. My inhibitions were now as low as they have ever been, fear of discovery, memories of your hardness inside of me. A dash of alcohol. Good combination for an initiation to a new sexual perversion!

Rani made love to me, and I to her. It was good… but dear memory, fear not. I missed your cock. Will that be sufficient detail for your eager ears? Ha! I know just how you must be salivating at the thought of us together. I will put you out of your misery. Some of the details that I know that you are dying to hear. She was good… almost as good as you. She sat beside me, and tentatively moved to kiss me. I did have a sudden pang of fright, and sat ridged and frozen as she kissed me, like a man, her tongue slipping past my unresisting lips. But once she slipped a hand between my thighs and rucked my skirt up, exposing my knickers, I was very close to ending things before they had actually begun. She broke the kiss, and looked my straight in the eyes. Holding my gaze, she carefully slipped her hand into the waistband of my knickers, her warm finger tips in my pubic hair, and then stopped.

"The next move is up to you". Her voice was warm, concerned. I knew that I could simply shake my head, murmur a quiet "No" and it would be over. No hard feelings, something to laughed at, blamed upon the wine. Her fingers lightly combed the silky curls on my mons… heat and juices flowed below… the choice was not hard to make. I caught her wrist in firm grip and pressed her hand down, deeper into my pants, fingers down to my eager clit. I closed my eyes and just let it happen. Her fingers found me moist and ready for her, my clit swollen and aching for her touch. She dipped her fingers, withdrew and I opened my eyes to watch her taste me.

"Hmmm… " her voice was silk, "Supper time?", and slipped off the settee and knelt before me, spreading my thighs. I moaned in eager anticipation when she lowered her face into my lap and began brushing her lips over my pussy, through sheer material of my knickers. I don't know what it is about that thin barrier of material, but it certainly seems to enhance the sensation. Maybe it is anticipation, because when she pulled the soaked cotton aside and stuck her tongue in my hole… instant orgasm. She knew her way around a pussy, and I was defiantly not the first that she had worked her magic upon. She performed a text book special on oral sex. Licking and sucking my throbbing clit, spreading my lips with her fingers to lash the length of my sex with her tongue. She fingered my pussy and asshole while I gripped her long black hair in a death grip, hips bucking as she gave me a series of carefully crafted multiple orgasms. She was good.

And then the bill. I lay panting and passive, catching my breath as Rani stood, her face shiny with my arousal. She stripped with an easy, arrogant grace, that was perfectly calculated to tease a prospective lover. Her breasts were indeed of the firm, upstanding variety, with small dark nipples that I envied on sight. She gave me a queer smile as she undid her jeans, hooking her fingers in the waistband. She slipped them down, then seductively repeated process with her knickers, enjoying my reaction. She was as bald as a baby. I guess that I had never really considered the appeal before… but her bare mound and exposed labia certainly opened my eyes, literally and metaphorically. I knew there and then that I was going to imitate her. Thoughts of just what effect that might have upon my husband never entered my head - my only thoughts were of you. My nervousness returned as Rani stepped free of her jeans and gave me that expectant look. It was time to pay the piper.

She was patient with me. Stepping up to me, long legs either side of mine, her flat stomach and bare sex pressing forward. I was still lying back, deep in the settee, as she carefully knelt on the edge, a knee either side of me. The hairless, gleaming swell of her mound came closer, as she leaned forward, hands finding the back of the settee. Closer to my wide eyed face, mesmerised by the smooth brown lips, slightly parted, a hint of moist pink. I found myself unconsciously holding my breath, and had to force myself to inhale deeply. The scent of her was distinct, heady. Is this what I am like to you? Do you approach my sex with such trepidation, anticipation? Inches from me now, and a slight movement on my part and the tip of my nose brushed the smooth skin. She was hot, almost burning, and as I gently moved my nose down the aromatic groove of her sex. I was reward by a tremor, a whisper of pleasure and encouragement. I lifted leaden hands, placing them on the top of her hips, fingers splayed across her mound. I parted the swollen, outer lips and revealing the inner glory, a delight of pinks, dark to light, and the honey coating of her excitement. I dipped my tongue into that humid crevice and tasted my first pussy, - other than my own. What does pussy taste like? Can you describe it? A hint of the seashore, a faint metallic tang? It seemed the same as mine and yet uniquely different. I felt rather awkward… self conscious. I've rubbed a clit and fingered a pussy since I was fifteen, but this was so very, very different. I found myself thinking that I was you, your mouth pressed to my open cunt. It seemed to do the trick and I rather surprised myself by really starting to enjoy the sensation. The goal of making her twitch, moan and shudder with pleasure, became a pleasure all of its own. I ate. I fingered. I licked and sucked and drank her juices. She finally collapsed over me, and we writhed and twisted our way into a sixty-nine, with her on top of me. It was a little disconcerting, as the position placed my nose up near her asshole, but once she started her tongue working on me, it soon became totally irrelevant.

Worried yet? Don't be dear heart. For all her expertise and almost mechanical skill at bringing me to orgasm, she lacked the one thing my body craved. I wanted your manhood, filling my cunt, your sperm jetting against my cervix. Her fingers, however talented, made poor substitutes. I wanted your weight on me, your balls banging against my ass as you thrust your length over and over again into my hungry pussy. I wanted… I wanted you sliding your cock into my burning asshole, while I ground against her open mouth, her tongue in my pussy. I blush with shame to admit this, and it is a measure of my trust and confidence in you - but I wanted you to fuck her. I wanted to see your cock, pale and veined and hard, sliding into her smooth lipped pussy. Is it sane of me to want to share you in that way? How can I even consider the idea, never mind telling you about it? I must be mad… and yet, I also know that she is no threat to me. It is a measure of the trust you engender in me. It is not that I am jealous of you sleeping with other women… it is the fear that you will stop desiring me. And I don't have that fear.

You told me this once. I never understood just what, or how, you could believe what you were saying. Jealousy is the simply the selfish emotion of possession, based upon the fear that you will prove to be inadequate. Jealousy is the antithesis of love. Men are afraid to share their wives and girlfriends out the fear that the other guy may have a bigger one! So trite… so true. Because I understand it now, and the fact that people truly at ease with each other can risk that kind of sharing, if the bond of trust and respect between them relies upon more than the shallow concerns of the physical. If you enjoyed Rani's body more than my own… I would be happy to give you that pleasure. That is what love is.

So, sweet memory, this time it is me asking you to do something wanton and debauched. I want you to come to Rani's apartment. I want to watch your cock going into her bare pussy. I want to watch your cum dribble down her chin when you cum in her mouth. I want her eating me while you fuck me in the ass. I want to hold her in my arms, feeling her body shudder as your cock fills her cunt with cum. I want to see the expression on her face when you fuck her in the ass. I want you watching me as I eat her pussy, and watch her eating mine.

Have I shocked you? Delighted you? I think maybe both at the same time. You started all this, so you have only yourself to blame… I do wish I could see your face.

Talk to me soon dear memory.