Under His Spell - Sex Stories

Under His Spell

... breathing was heavy as his hand made contact with my skin for the first time since we’d shaken hands at the door earlier that evening. I couldn’t help but wonder: even then, had he been wondering what it would be like to touch me? Had he known how easy I would make it for him, how I was somehow unable to resist his advances? What we were doing was wrong for so many reasons, but I put the final dish on the drying board, and moved my hands to the edge of the sink, gripping tightly. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I wanted to be able to support myself when it did. His mouth moved from near my neck to my ear, so close that I couldn’t hear anything but his slow, controlled breathing. I tried to slow my own breath down as well—I’d involuntarily begun panting as his hand slowly moved higher on my thigh, so close that I’m sure he could feel the heat of my pussy. I’d had no reason to suspect that anyone would see my underthings that night (my husband and I only ever make love on Saturday nights, when Georgia is at netball) and so the pair I was wearing were large, and hardly flattering. I don’t think Ash cared—he moved them to the side with ease, and I involuntarily shuddered as his fingers brushed against my tangled pubic hair. Before long, I was biting my lip to prevent myself from crying out—despite his youth, Ash seemed to be far from inexperienced. His fingers found my wetness immediately, and soon he was plunging them deep within me. I don’t even know when exactly ...

... he undid the top few buttons of my dress, and slipped his hand inside, reaching inside my bra and tweaking my nipple directly. My head was so foggy—all I could think about was how wrong it was, what we were doing, and the unexpected amount of pleasure that Ash was able to provide with his roaming fingers. Ash’s fingers went deep, and I arched my back, pressing my ass against his pants and feeling his hard cock within. I didn’t allow myself to question what was happening—a part of me knew that if I did, it would have to stop, and I didn’t want it to stop. Not yet. Grinding my ass against his erection, my eyes shut and my mouth struggling not to make any more noise than the huffing I already was, Ash’s talented young fingers brought me to orgasm. Right there, in my kitchen, my husband and daughter not two rooms away, I came—something I hadn’t done with anyone but my husband for more than twenty years. As I came down, reality came crashing back. What had I done?? I’d not only betrayed my husband’s trust, I’d betrayed Georgia as well—this boy was nothing to me, but she was my daughter. I’d stabbed my only daughter in the back. My breathing grew steady, and I turned to tell Ash that it could never happen again, but he was gone. I was alone in the kitchen with my washing up, my partially-unbuttoned dress and a pair of soaking wet panties. * * * When Georgia and my husband returned a few minutes later, I was composed once again—on the outside, at least. On the inside, my mind was ...