Full Caribbean Moon - Sex Stories

Full Caribbean Moon

... encouraging you to be with me." "He was, but that was last evening, under the influence of the night and drinks. We've never done this before, I'm not sure now that he'll want me to do it again." "Will you ask him?" "Oh, yes," she said, coming into his arms for the last, most tender, kiss of the night. They broke, and Jonathan reached into his pocket, took a business card from his wallet. "I'll be here for two more days," he explained, "if you want to, just come over and knock on my door. Or call me, leave a message if I'm not in. If we can't get together down here, or things change, phone me in Chicago." "I'll see. No promises." They were now just a few yards from Terri's room. "I had a wonderful time," she said, "and I'll never forget you." "I really hope we can see each other again." "We'll see." She knew he wanted one more embrace, but it was time to bid adieu. "Good night," she called, walking away from him. "You mean 'good morning,'" he corrected, and then he was gone. As she stepped to the door, Terri's thoughts went to her husband. How would he take it, now that she was no longer chaste, pure? A wave of guilt began to invade her happiness, but she fought it off with the realization that he desired this, he'd pleaded with her to be unfaithful. In a way, he was as guilty as she, perhaps even more so. She considered her appearance. She wanted to look presentable for her man, not like a woman who'd been out all night doing who knows what. Taking a small compact case out ...

... of her purse, she combed her hair in the tiny mirror, repaired her mussed lipstick. The rest, she realized, would have to be good enough. She unlocked the door, nervous about what might happen when she did. Will was sprawled on the bed, naked beneath the sheets, just as he always slept, even in the dead of winter. His sonorous breaths proved he was dozing. As noiselessly as possible, Terri retrieved a skimpy nightgown from the closet, closed the bathroom door behind her. Another sponge bath, a brush of her teeth, a drink of water, and she was ready for bed. She crawled in beside Will, and he stirred. "What time is it?" She looked at the bedside clock. "Five-thirty. Dawn." "Did you just get in?" "Yes." She cuddled up to him, her back to his front, their favorite spooning position. Will yawned. "Did you have a good time?" "Yes," she admitted sheepishly, "a very good time. You were right, this is something I should have done long ago." Although it was said with pleasure, it was also a tacit reminder that he was as culpable as she was. "You had sex then?" She could tell that it was simply a question, not an accusation. She twisted her face over her shoulder, looked at her husband of two and a half decades, kissed him. "Yes. Do you want to hear about it?" In all the fantasies they'd ever dreamed together, he'd wanted to know details, specifics, and she was prepared to share the evening with him if he wished. "Yes," he begged, "if you don't mind." For five minutes she laid in his ...