Simply wonderful weekend !!!

I’d spent several hours on Thursday evening trying-on outfits to wear to the Tennis the next day. Initially J had enjoyed me modelling the various outfits I’d spread across the bed, but he became less enthusiastic as the time passed and I changed my mind from combination to combination. All he was interested in was trying to fondle me each time I changed from one dress to another, eventually becoming annoyed at my indecision and my rejections of his advances. He was insisting each outfit I tried on was “the one” and I knew his impatience was the only reason for his recommendation(s).

Eventually I’d narrowed down the selection to two completely different dresses . . . much to his disappointment as he knew he would be leaving for work in the morning before I’d made my final decision and he “wanted to be able to picture in his mind all day, just how you looked for V !” We cuddled together and I explained it wasn’t about how “I looked for V”, but that I had to feel happy with what I was wearing as well.

I chose my white dress, loose and cool (it had been uncomfortably hot the past two days here in London) . . . and of course, I felt all in white was appropriate for the tennis. We met in the Village, a mistake as it was frightfully busy and we had to search for a table for coffee and brunch. V told me I looked “Sensational. Can I ask if you have knickers today?” I was taken aback, and just giggled, as he’s normally not quite so forward in conversation. But in answer to his quizzical look, and squeezing my hand, I eventually answered that it wasn’t convenient for me to go without at the moment. “I did tell you last week that it would probably be like this, didn’t I?” I scolded him. He just laughed and squeezed my hand tighter, “of course you did, and I told you then, Wimbledon wouldn’t be the same if I couldn’t share at least one day of it with you!”. I thanked him and rewarded his compliments by squeezing him back and telling him “well I’m not wearing a bra . . . it’s cooler without.” He laughed and replied “Not for me!”.

It was such a magical day. Even more enjoyable than last year, despite the disappointing result for Britain in the semi-final. I just love the atmosphere, the colours, the drama, and . . . of course, being in the company of such a charming chaperone. Several times we came across people he knew. Last year I would have been mortified!!! . . . But this year I felt quite at ease as he introduced me, after all we really were “business associates” . . . even though I could almost ‘feel’ the wife of the first couple sensing my slight nervousness as she smiled almost knowingly as we chatted briefly whilst the men talked about the tennis.

The day seemed to flash by, the first time this summer that I’d really noticed how late it stayed light. Nice wine, nice food, and such nice company . . . we hardly seemed to talk about our work at all, and not even as much about our families, the conversation, and the day, (and the wine), just seemed to flow by.

When he asked if I was going to join him for a “final glass” at his apartment, or if I’d prefer him to get me a cab straight home, I mockingly acted disappointed that he’d even had to ask. Of course I knew he was just politely considering my “situation” but I genuinely wanted to spend a few more hours with him. I kissed him and told him I shouldn’t really be having any more wine, but I didn’t want to go “home” just yet.

We spent the entire journey to his apartment hand-in-hand and talking still. I can’t say what we talked about, just that conversation seems to be more open, and more natural, and ‘easier’ every time we meet. He has had, and still has I think, the most interesting life . . . and as I said to J when I talked to him about this later (and talked, and talked), it’s not with envy, or a sense of “having missed out” on anything in our own life, that I enjoy sharing these conversations with V, it’s just that his life is so different from ours, and it’s just genuinely interesting (and a privilege) to be able to share in it.

As we kissed and toasted our day together on his balcony, I felt even better knowing that I can have times, and experiences, like this and be able to share them with my husband and not have to hide them or treat them as ‘guilty secrets’. Standing there in his embrace, I felt better, stronger, more alive, more aroused, and more myself because I was at that very moment also thinking of J and how wonderful our relationship is to be able to enjoy, and share, times like this. And how J would be at home picturing me being here, with the memory of our previous Friday evening alone here, still fresh in his mind.

We continued our embrace for several minutes until I pulled away and asked “wouldn’t you like to have a shower?” He smiled expectantly . . . but I dampened his enthusiasm slightly by putting my finger to his lips and telling him “I can join you in a shower, but can’t do much else”. I’d already talked with J the previous night about how I “couldn’t possibly leave him with nothing but a kiss after entertaining me at the tennis all day”.

I followed him to the bathroom and told him I wanted to wait and watch him undress and get under the water first before I joined him. I then quickly stepped out of my dress and panties as discreetly as I could, arranging them neatly on the floor and walking across to step into his arms, laughing at him as he told me how he loved to watch me walking naked. We soaped and showered, and kissed and fondled. I pushed his hands away when I felt his fingers were too close to my modesty . . . despite his protestations that he was “perfectly used to these circumstances” and that it was “ok and completely natural”. I told him that I knew it was natural, but that I couldn’t relax enough and he would just have to forgive me and try to be understanding. His kisses, and nods, and the gentle stroking over the cheeks of my bum, were affirmation enough that he did understand.

We towelled each other down and he let me slide my hand downwards and stroke him gently. He felt warm and firm . . . without being erect . . . but firm enough for me to hold him there and lead him from the bathroom down the corridor to his bedroom. By the time we reached the bed he was standing upright in the palm of my hand and I loved the feeling of gently squeezing his thickness with first just the hand I’d been leading him with, and then, as I pushed him down to sit on the edge of the mattress, sliding my other hand round to knead him between both palms. I knelt down between his legs and leant forward, circling my tongue around the head of him as I slid both hands up and down on his erection. I splayed my hands out onto his thighs now, gripping him with just my mouth, lifting up and down on him slowly whilst I slid my hands along to each knee and then pushed apart to spread his legs wider. I was sucking up and down faster now . . . I wanted him to remember this time for the months we would be apart. He was stroking his hands down my back and then up to my head. I lifted my mouth away for a moment, licking down him with my tongue and telling him “you can hold my head on you with your hands if you want to.” He gasped and did reach back to hold my head as I kept licking him up and down. I nuzzled further between his legs, sliding my mouth around each of his balls in turn. I knew he didn’t like me sucking on him there too hard (unlike J) but I wanted him to know how aroused and excited I was, and how I wanted to arouse and excite him.

I pulled away a little and he winced “too hard” as he plopped out of my mouth. I kissed it apologetically and then licked my tongue up him again to the head and let him push my mouth back down over him. He was holding me there now, letting me push up with my head and then pushing me down on him again. I could tell by his grunting, and the way he was thrusting his hips upwards in little spasms, that he was enjoying my mouthing him. He knows that I don’t like to have him come in my mouth, but as I felt him getting more and more excited, and pushing me up and down faster, I was starting to wonder if this time he was going to let me pull my head away in time.

When he came it was with much louder gasps and grunts than I’ve heard him before. As I suddenly felt his hands on my head relax, and his hips straining upwards, I managed to lift my mouth away and at the same instant I felt a splash graze my cheek and then splat into my ear and hair. He jerked again several times as I tried to hold him with my hand . . . I felt more splashes across my neck and up past my ear again. As I reached up with my free hand, another splash followed. I was giggling and trying to wipe it out of my ear as I could feel it running inside. The back of my hand was damp from my hair and he still continued to shudder as I giggled to him “You’ve got loads, why have you got so much?”. He was gasping rather than answering my silly questions, and then groaned more as I lifted myself up and forwards rubbing myself across him with my boobs, then sliding all the way up to kiss him. As I held his shoulder to ask him “was that nice?”, my hand was still sticky and dripping globules between my fingers. I made a show of rubbing it over my nipples and then bending forward to kiss his chest and then down to his willy again. “I’ve never seen you make such a mess” I told him, then loving hearing him gasp out as I sucked him into my mouth again. He was wet and slightly salty and still quite firm and plump as I sucked down on him. He was squirming and groaning and lifted my head away. I lifted back up to kiss him, pushing my tongue into his mouth and telling him to “suck it”. I pushed him down onto his back, rubbing my hands across his tummy and wiping the last of his stickiness over his own chest this time. He closed his eyes and lay completely backwards onto his back, and I snuggled down beside him gazing down at his willy as it had curled round slightly as he became more relaxed and flaccid.

After ten minutes or so he lifted his head and started to sit up saying he was thirsty. I pushed him back down and told him I’d bring the wine to him, and that he could rest for a while. I returned and handed him his glass as he sat up on his elbows. I sat next to him on the bed sharing sips until I glanced down and noticed how unflattering my tummy looked so I handed him the glass and lay down beside him again.

We talked for some time, perhaps half an hour or so, him feeding me mouthfuls of wine occasionally . . . getting up to re-fill the glass we were sharing . . . and telling me it was “well past midnight”. I asked if he was trying to get rid of me . . . I told him I knew it was late, and that I should be getting home, but I didn’t want to move to get up. I could tell he enjoyed hearing me say these things, and told me he would be “honoured if I would stay”. He ran his fingers down my tummy towards my pussy, but I pulled them away. “You can’t” I said. He told me he was “used to these things” and that it didn’t bother him, but I told him that it bothered me, and that I couldn’t relax and that it wasn’t nice.

Instead I rolled over on my side slightly and slid my own hand down between his legs. He squeezed them together, gripping my hand so that the top of my wrist was resting against his balls. I looked down and giggled. “I like that” I told him, “it feels nice and warm”. I twisted round a bit to free my other hand and reached down to stroke my fingers just below his skin. He suddenly started to grow again. I loved watching it twitching and moving like that. We looked at each other and I smiled and then accepted his kiss as I pulled my hand free and squeezed my fingers around him. He was hard and firm again. I continued stroking him and then slid down to take him in again. It was warm and hard and instead of that usual “plain” taste, he tasted sweet. It was nice and I began swirling my tongue round inside my mouth as much as I could, trying to make him wetter and more slippery. He reached down to take my shoulders and lift me up, pulling me back onto the bed and onto my back. “I don’t want” I told him again. “I want it on my tummy, or my bum” I told him. Then quickly correcting myself to say “on my bum cheeks” . . . just to make sure he didn’t mistake my request. (Even if I had felt in the mood, I couldn’t possibly!!!).

He lifted himself up on me, balancing himself over my chest with his hands either side of me, reaching forward to suck at my nipples. Normally I’d want him doing this, but they were tender and unresponsive, so I pulled his face up to mine, sliding my tongue into his mouth again and kissing him with wet embraces. I could feel him stroking on my stomach and reached down to slide my hands over his bum cheeks to pull him onto me further. He was stroking back and forth on me, lifting his head to look down at himself and then back to look at me. I closed my eyes, and could sense he’d closed his too as we continued to rub against one another. There were no gasps or groans this time, just the pushing of our bodies onto the mattress and then a sudden spurt again as he splashed up my tummy. We both finally gasped with each other as he flopped down onto my stomach and we squeezed and rubbed against each other, before rolling onto our sides, his leg sliding between mine and his head pushing down onto my shoulder.

It felt lovely to have him squashed against me like this, rocking back and forth in each others arms. We lay together for awhile until I had that sudden wet feeling between my legs . . . I needed to jump up quickly and get to the bathroom, horrified that I’d make a mess on his sheets or floor. Thankfully he stayed in the bedroom as I found my handbag and did the necessary. I felt I’d be more comfortable if I put my panties on again, and as I returned to the bedroom, he sat up and asked “you’re going home?”. I knelt down on the bed beside him and told him I didn’t really have the energy and that I was going to text J. It was so late I didn’t know if he would have given up waiting for me and gone up to bed, but I knew I just had to text him . . . just to see if he was still awake. “Would you mind if I stayed longer? I’ll be home before the kids wake.” I turned round and sat down on the bed as I waited to see if there would be any response from J. I was consciously trying to hold my tummy in, and hoping that J would text back. V asked “what will you do if he doesn’t call?” I told him I would have to go.

We waited . . . for several minutes . . . and then, just as I’d resigned myself to asking V if he would call a cab, my phone buzzed. “Ok” was the message. I lay back and snuggled up beside V. “Is he upset with you?” V asked. But I told him that had he been upset he would have messaged something more. “I will have to go soon, but I just don’t want to yet!” I told him. He pulled me into him and then the next thing I remember is V shaking me and telling me it was light outside.

God, he was right, it was 5.30 and daylight outside!!! V was laughing and telling me he’d already started breakfast. He led me to the kitchen and sat me down at the breakfast bar. “Juice, coffee, croissants?” I loved it . . . looking out over the river, sipping juice, at such a beautiful time of the day. I felt guilty (I should be at home), but wonderfully naughty at the same time! “It’s hard for me to go home” I told him. He said “it’s hard for me as well” and as he got down from his stool and walked around from his side of the bar to face me, I saw what he meant. I reached out to hold him . . . He bent forward to kiss me and I started stroking him with one hand as we kissed, and slid my other hand down to cup his sacs. I managed to pull away from his embrace and stepped off my stool to try and kneel down in front of him, but he pulled me up telling me there wasn’t time if I wouldn’t let him be with me “properly”, and that anyway I was supposed to be getting home. I tried protesting, telling him I had wanted this time to be memorable. He laughed and said “every time with you is memorable”.

As we waited for the cab he talked again about wanting me to join him for a few days in Paris in two weeks, or Brussels in August. He wouldn’t be returning to London until September. “It could be a business trip. Would J mind?” I told him what I’d already told him at the Tennis when he’d first mentioned it . . . that an evening out was all very well, but “a few days” away in another city, was quite another thing altogether, and that even if J were to say yes, I had the children to think of. His response was just as it had been earlier, “bring them all!” We both laughed again at his silliness . . . (later J was to suggest any number of explanations and plans and “ways to accept” !!!) V accompanied me down to the street to meet the cab when he phoned to say he was outside. We stood embracing completely unselfconsciously as I thanked him for a wonderful day and he thanked me in return . . .

The house was completely quiet as I let myself in. I was sure J would have gone up to bed, but he was slumped in the armchair . . . he’d obviously been there all night!!! I almost fell into his arms as he stood up to greet me. I just had to squeeze and hug him as he tried to break away from my kisses to start asking me what had happened?, what was it like? why had I stayed out all night? I couldn’t answer, I just needed to hug and kiss him. All the emotions from the past three weeks just burst out. He pulled away with a start . . . I’d bitten his shoulder, I just couldn’t help wanting to squeeze him so tightly. He told me I was crying, and asked what was wrong, “has something happened?” I told him nothing was wrong, I just needed to be cuddled, I just wanted to go to bed and lay with him.

We slept until 11. Apparently our son poked his head round the door at some point to ask what was for breakfast. J told him to get some cereal or toast! I’d slept right through his complaints that that was a “school day” breakfast . . . “we always have a proper breakfast on the weekend!!”

I made up for it over the rest of the weekend of course . . . wanting to kiss and spoil and cuddle and hold all three of them . . . so much so that the children asked what was “wrong” with me. And why we were “always kissing each other. It’s disgusting”!!! And of course, that . . . and the re-living of my day (and night) meant we did it all the more !!! Lol . . . simply wonderful times!!


Best wishes - Edith
http://www.scarletsecrets.co.uk/edithsdiary