Bombshell in the Berkshires - Sex Stories

Bombshell in the Berkshires

... down a notch. She even suggested going to the farmer's market together on the upcoming Sunday, which was a huge step forward in normalization. I took it as a peace offering.

The next stretch still went by uneasily, however. We didn't talk much, and while the looks we exchanged were not always adversarial, there was an air of uncertainty that saturated the house. I confess that I was glad to go to work during those long, trying weeks, happy to be at a place where my actions and motions were positive, and results were concrete and satisfying.

The next week, on a Thursday, Barb surprised me at dinner. I'd made a nice soup, gotten some good bread at the bakery in town to go with it.

As Barb polished off her last buttered slice, she sought my eyes.

"Clay, I would like to make love tonight. I don't like this distance between us at the moment."

My mouth went open and stayed that way.

She laughed. "My period's coming up and you know I sometimes get more aroused that time of the month. Okay?"

I was "okay."

And of course the sperm tanks hadn't been emptied in weeks, no Roger or anything. I think the look on her face told her everything she needed to know since she laughed.

"Excellent. Let me take a short bath after dinner, and we can call it an early night."

If you've been married for twenty years, a good amount of intimacy can become routine. We each knew the other's body, reactions, preferences, and dislikes. It's not quite like seeing the same movie ...

... over and over again, since each time is unique in some fashion, but it does feel like a TV series sometimes.

Barb was sweet. Fresh from the bath, she removed her robe. Naked she's a more handsome woman than most would expect. She rarely wore makeup, mascara at a wedding was as far as she would go. Neither of us wear good clothes often, and even at special events we remain on the understated side. She is short with soft, droopy breasts that she took pains to minimize in public, by bra choice and the shirts she wore. Usually she was bundled into a blue workshirt tucked into jeans, what she typically would wear to her half-time job at the hardware store. I was already in bed, anxious for her to arrive. I inhaled at the sight of her wobbly, swaying breasts, her dark, well furred pubic triangle as her robe came off.

It was strange at first that night, to be honest. To settle in next to her in bed, I hadn't felt her bare skin next to me in months. We were almost like a couple of scorpions, each of us wary, unsure of the other, emotional thresholds on hair-trigger settings.

It felt like we were on a first date. We were extra careful touching each other. I trembled when she ran a hand along my flanks.

But her hands on my penis felt marvelous. She even sucked me a bit before inviting me to tongue her. She got all wet and close, and when I first put my penis up her entry, she gave off a lovely little exhale of pleasure that was almost nostalgic. I pushed for a bit, but it was ...