Mrs. G Confesses

Authors note: All characters are over 18. Constructive comments are welcomed.

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Having recently discovered a web site called Literotica, and my husband and I having spent many pleasant hours, both reading and discussing the stories and comments, I feel I can no longer remain silent; I simply must add my two-cents-worth.

I guess the greatest point of disagreement between my husband and I, on this subject, is some of the commenters in the Loving Wives category. After almost fifty years of marriage, we have had many differences, none that lasted over a few days before we simply agreed to disagree and moved on. Yes, I know men sometimes find it so hard to admit their faults, which is something I really don't understand; I know I would readily admit my faults—if I had any.

Anyway, back to the subjects.at hand—my husband and those commenters in the Loving Wives category, especially those whom some refer to as trolls. I'm talking about those who make disparaging comments about the cheating wife stories and their authors. I find people who bluster about, bragging what THEY'D do, if it were them, to be especially annoying. I can't help but wonder what they really did when they found out their wife had taken a lover. Did they do all that crap they say they would do, and if they did, how'd it work out for them?

My story actually begins about ten years ago, so let me set the scene. It was a time when we owned three 'over the road' trucks and had people to drive them. Minor players are a couple of friends, I'll call them Jan and Jack, a handsome young man of about nineteen or twenty—I'll call him Leroy, because that really is his name, and I'll refer to myself and my husband as Mr. and Mrs. G. I'm sure you'll understand, since what I'm about to tell you would devastate my husband, should he recognize us as the characters. Don't get me wrong, like God, he'd forgive me, but unlike God, he'd never ever, ever, ever forget.

Back then I was around fifty five and while I showed the effects of raising three children and helping with a passel of Grandchildren, I still had a fairly shapely body. I carried my one hundred forty pounds around on a frame that stood five feet eight and while you could pinch more than an inch or so around my waist, I doubt you would bother—not when you saw my thirty eight double D's, with their dark aureoles, topped off with nipples that could be enticed to pooch out almost a quarter of an inch. Oh yeah, don't forget my legs, and hips—Mr. G swears they are still as shapely as his favorite movie star's, so who am I to argue? If they please him, he's the one that counts.

The four of us had a habit of meeting every Saturday night at the local truck stop and fast food place—you've seen them dotting the interstates—a big complex selling gasoline to both cars and trucks, a food place such as Micky D's or Wendys and just about anything else travelers might need. We'd gather in the back corner, chowing down on burger and fries, while sipping on the free refills such places provided from their soft-drink fountain.

Leroy, a handsome young, black man just out of his teenage years, always made sure our party was well taken care of. His grandmother, a friend of Jack and Jan, had raised him right. He was always well dressed and clean shaven, none of this pants hanging to his ass or dreadlocks below his shoulder blades for him. When I once asked him why he hadn't joined in the prevalent culture of the time and place, his answer was simple.

"Cause Grandma would kick my ass." He said it with a smile, but from what Jan had told me about his grandma and how she'd raised all her dozen kids, I suspect he was only partly kidding. Like I said, he kept checking on us every time he could slip away from the counter, always asking if he could do anything.

Sometimes I wasn't sure if he was really interested or if he just liked the little hug he always gave me and Jan. After so long with him doing this, we started responding by slipping our arms around his waist and pulling him close. Once in awhile, we'd even pat his behind when he did that. It was all in innocent fun and it got us the biggest helpings of fries, or the best filled ice cream cones you could imagine.

If this was a mystery story, I'd say, "It was a dark and stormy night," but it isn't and it wasn't—stormy, I mean. Instead it was a beautiful fall night; the temperature was in the low seventies, perfect for thin blouses or short sleeves, and Jack and Jan sat across the table from me.

"Where's Mr. G?" Leroy asked when he brought our tray of food and collected his hug.

"We have a truck stranded in Kansas with a sick driver. He flew out today to get make sure the driver has what he needs and to finish the run." This time I thought he 'd hugged my shoulders just a little longer than usual; I had begun to get the idea that he liked me a little better than Jan. Tonight, when he leaned against me while handing Jan her tray, the bulge in his pants pressed against me ,and any doubt about his liking me vanished.

"Do you think what they say about black men being bigger is true?" I asked Jan, after Leroy returned to work and Jack went to the restroom.

"Shit, I don't know—why do you ask?"

"Cause I just felt Leroy's pressing against me and the darn thing was no ordinary soldier. It felt like it must have been almost a foot long." "Good god!" she almost choked and snorted cola through her nostrils. You got to be kidding. Nobody's built like that." Then, with a faraway look she asked, "How do you think it'd feel to take something liked that?"

"I sure wouldn't know. I was a virgin when we got married and while hubby has a nice one, it sure wasn't anything like that." Then we started giggling like school girls. "Guess we'll never find out, will we?"

We had to drop the subject when her husband returned, so we continued our regular routine of swapping lies until it was time to go home. Not anxious to return to an empty house, I told my friends I was going to look around the big shopping area before I left. When I finally decided to go, my darn car wouldn't start. The last time I'd had it serviced, they'd recommended I replace the starter, but stupid me—I was in a hurry and told them I'd call for an appointment later.

Oh well, I thought, I'll just call my brother-in-law. That's when I found out I'd also forgotten to charge my cell phone. I upped the hood, stared at the engine, without the slightest idea of what I was looking at, kicked the nearest tire and cussed my stupidity.

"You okay, Mrs. G?" Surprised, I spun around, my foot caught on something and I would have fallen flat on my face if it wasn't for Leroy. He grabbed me, almost falling himself, but we fell against the car. There I was, back against the front door, a hard young man tightly against me and as we were trying to regain balance, I could once again feel the thing I'd felt in Wendy's. Damn, I thought, does this kid stay hard all the time? His thing was pressing on my lower stomach and I worried about the tingle I experienced. I was a married woman; I wasn't supposed to feel things like that with anyone besides my husband.

You might say that," I replied when I collected myself, "my darn car won't start and I need to I borrow your phone to call for help?"

"No need to do that, I'll be glad to take you home."

"No, really—I'll just call for somebody to come for me."

"Nonsense, it'll be no trouble at all. Besides, I like talking with a pretty lady like you."

What woman doesn't like to be thought of as pretty, especially by a handsome young man like Leroy? I was tempted. If I didn't know he drove one of those little Mini Coopers, I might have said okay.

"That's kind of you Leroy, but I don't think I can get in that little thing you drive."

"Don't have to get in the Mini, Mrs. G. It's in the shop so Dad let me come to work in the motor home. He said it needed to be driven anyway. I just hope he doesn't expect me to fill that thing with gas." He treated me to that radiant smile again. "Come on, Mrs. G, don't make me have to wait here until somebody else can drive all the way over here."

"You don't need to wait, Leroy; I'll be fine here by myself."

"No mam, no way do I leave you out here by yourself. Before long now some of that drunk crowd from up the road will be drifting in here. Ain't no place for a nice woman like you when they start carrying on." He made sure I had my bag and keys. "Anything else you need?" When I shook my head, he locked the doors and escorted me to the truck and RV parking area.

We were approaching what looked to be an almost new Trailranger motor home. Sometime during the walk, he had moved his hand from my forearm to the middle of my back. I know I was being silly, but that hand was burning its imprint through my light blouse, and the tingle was moving south.

"You ever been in one of these, Mrs. G?" He released me just long enough to unlock and open the door. "Careful now, these steps can be a little tricky." After holding my arm to steady up the first step, he helped me with the second by putting his hand on my butt and pushing.

"What's wrong with me," I wondered, when I felt his fingers flexing on my behind. "You're a married woman, and you're getting a tingle up your leg when a kid touches your behind?"

"No, I've never seen the inside of one nearly this big. Shoot, this probably has all the comforts of home."

"You better believe it." He flipped a switch; the entire inside lit up. "Let me show you." First he picked up a remote and soft dreamy music filled the air. Pulling me by the hand he led the way through the RV. "We have TV, complete kitchen, plenty of seating—you name it, this baby has it."

"This vehicle is unbelievable— so opulent, so so...I'm at a loss for words." I gestured with my right hand and in doing so knocked a box off a shelf and snapshots flew all over the floor.

"Oh, Shit!" I'd never heard Leroy say words like that before. "My daddy worked all afternoon cataloging that box of pictures." He fell to his knees, gathering pictures, so I knelt to help him. The first couple snapshots I picked up showed couples frolicking on a tropical beach.

"These pictures look professional, Leroy. What does your father do with them?"

"He publishes a travel magazine; these are some he just brought back from the South Pacific." By this time we each had a handful and I started to stuff mine back in the box. I noticed Leroy studying a picture. 'Wait! We can't just put em back like that. I didn't notice it before, but you see that number in the top right corner," he pointed out a letter followed by a numerical figure. "That's how he knows which page this goes on. We have to put them back in the box in order." They seemed to be in alphanumerical order.

"Tell you what" I suggested, "we'll spread them out on the table, then we can stick them back in the box in order." He was sorting them out while I filed them in their proper order. As I did so, I couldn't help admiring the quality of the shots. The first were of lush tropical growth lining unbelievable beaches. Then the subject changed to couples in various poses, ranging from just holding hands to holding each other.

"Whoa!" I was shocked. He'd just handed me several shots of what I guessed to be Tahitian women in various stages of undress. I couldn't help but stare at such perfect bodies. Leroy stopped what he was doing and pushed over so close to me our thighs touched.

"They are pretty, aren't they?" He gave a little whistle, "Look at this one." He pointed to a woman in her birthday suit. "Reckon she doesn't get sunburned?"

I could feel myself blushing, but I couldn't pry my eyes away—especially from the next one. It showed a naked black man facing that same woman. He must have been standing almost nine inches away from her, yet a bridge of flesh extended out of his black curly hair to touch her belly button.

"Hey, that's my Daddy!" Leroy took the picture from my hands. He studied it a few moments before handing it back. I still couldn't believe what I was seeing. Compared to this man in the picture, my husband was just a boy. Reluctantly I put the picture in its proper place, only to have it replaced by others just as raunchy. I became so absorbed in the various sexy poses I forgot about filing them away. I'd simply lay one aside only to stare at another.

"Good pictures, aren't they? Daddy can do some good work." The next picture I picked up verified Leroy's statement; it showed his daddy mounting a young girl that couldn't be over eighteen if that. She was on her back, her feet across his shoulders and his cockhead was pressing against her labia. The detail was so clear, I could actually see her glistening lips parting to allow entry to his rampart engine of love. That's when I noticed Leroy's hand was resting on my leg, just above the knee. He leaned over, nuzzling my neck, his warm breath tickling the hair around my neck.

Lord help me, I knew I should tell him to stop, but I didn't want to; instead I turned my face toward him and our lips met. What started out as a soft gentle kiss became more passionate...more demanding...his probing tongue demanded entry and my mouth opened to accept it. His young hands felt good massaging my breast, even if my blouse and bra separated flesh from flesh. I was gasping for breath when his roving hand made its way up my inner thigh.

Before it reached its goal, my tightly clinched legs prevented farther advancement. Like butterfly wings, they moved to the other thigh and continued to flutter back to my knee before migrating north again. This time they made it just a bit farther toward their goal, and after several such trips, they finally almost touched pay dirt. I opened my legs just a bit and they were on the gusset of my cotton panties; now they were separated from the nectar they so desperately sought by only a thin wall of damp cotton.

Tuning from a butterfly to a worm, those same fingers squirmed under the elastic of my panty's obstructing leg band and wormed their way to the mother lode. I hunched forward when his fingers worked their way through the mass of hair surrounding my burning core and dipped between the lips. After teasing my clit they continued wiggling their way to my g-spot. "Right there—that's it," I moaned hunching my hips to meet his probing hand. For a young fellow, Leroy knew what he was doing. He brought me right to the edge before suddenly stopping.

"We need to find a better place, Mrs. G." He led me toward the back. A door opened to reveal a queen bed covered with a royal blue spread. I held my arms up to allow him to slip my blouse off. Next he unsnapped my skirt and I let it fall to the floor. Standing before him in only my bra and panties, I ran my fingers through his hair while his lips teased the bare skin not hidden by my bra. Finally he unsnapped it, letting it join my skirt and allowing his lips access to my erect nipples. While he suckled my nipples, I pressed his head to them as tightly as I could.

He broke our clench to lay me back on the bed. I looked into his eyes, seeing both lust and wonder. I'm sure he never dreamed, when he started his shift, he'd have an older white woman spread out on his bed tonight. He reached for the waistband of my panties.

"Do you want me to stop, Mrs. G? Say so now if you do, cause if we go much further, I won't be able to." I lifted my hips to make it easier for him to slip them off.

"I got to have you," I whispered, "Fuck me."

Just like that I was naked, my legs spread wide and my new lover was face down between them, his face buried in my pussy.

"Oh, my." I couldn't help shuddering when his tongue probed the bottom of my slit. It flicked from side to side, making its way to the top, before finally concentrating on my little pearl. "Oh god—yes, yes, that's soooo gooood." I grabbed his head, pulling it into my steaming pussy. I ground it against his face.

"Hold on, Mrs. G, I still have to breathe." He pulled back and slipped first one, then a second finger in me. That felt even better than the tongue. He was touching my g-spot and I was humping his hand, hoping he'd try to get another finger in. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than did the third finger join the other two. I was in heaven, filled to the brim but still feeling like something was missing.

"I need that cock," I gasped.

"You want it, you got it, Mrs. G." He pressed my knees, "Open wider." I spread my legs as wide as I could and he knelt between them, his cock swinging back and forth. Leaning forward, he supported himself with one hand while he guided his cock to its target. The head touched my slick lips and after one swipe through my slit, he pressed forward and it slipped partway in. I felt fuller than I'd ever felt before. He withdrew and it felt like my insides were following his shaft.

"Whooo!" I couldn't help it—he sank it in all the way and just held it still. My inner muscles clinched and unclenched his shaft. My husband always claimed my cunt was chewing his dick, when I did that to him. Finally we could take it no more; he withdrew completely, then when he tried to reinsert, he missed its mark and I had to reach down and help. From that point he started that oh-so-delicious slow stroking, with me matching him stroke for stroke.

The speed increased until we were humping like dogs; finally, unable to hold out any longer, I felt the familiar tingle starting in my toes, radiating its way up my body, before exploding out of my scalp. Groaning how good it was I relaxed and immediately felt his throbbing shaft pumping cum against my cervix. He rolled off, completely exhausted. We lay side by side, my breath was coming in ragged gasp, and my heart was pounding like it was going to jump out of my chest.

"You're really something; you know that, Mrs. G?" He kissed me on the forehead.

I sat up, patting his flaccid weapon. "You're not so bad yourself, kid." I kissed his glans. "We better get this mess cleaned off your Daddy's bed spread, and then you're supposed to take me home, remember." It had been a long time since I'd seen that much cum from just one bout of screwing, and there was still a string running down my leg. Finally we got things fairly clean, including me. I redressed and stuck all the spilled snapshots back in the box for Leroy to deal with later, and then we were on our way to my house.

The ride was in almost complete silence, broken only by my directions. I was deep in thought and I suppose he was also. Now that the thrill had worn off I was confronted with the enormity of my actions. In a moment of weakness I had betrayed the most important man in my life. Silently vowing to never be that weak again, I considered how to make it up to my husband.

I knew without a doubt this was one time thing. They say confession is good for the soul but this confession would have to be limited to God. He would forgive and forget. I had no doubt my husband would forgive me, we had that kind of relationship, but forget—not so much. I couldn't risk seeing the hurt in his eyes every time he thought about me with Leroy. No, my husband must never know

Stopping in front of our home, Leroy started to get out, probably to walk me to the door, but from the bulge that reappeared back in his pants, he may have had visions of round two. "No need to walk me to the door, Leroy. Thanks for everything."

"Welcome, Mrs. G, but uh—I thought...uh...I thought...."

"I think I know what you thought, Leroy, but this was one time thing. It's over—it ends here and now. We'll still see each other at the truck stop, and you can still come around and give me and Jan a hug as always, but that's it. For God's sake, don't ever do anything that will make my husband suspicious; there's no telling what that redneck might do."