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The pandemic really fucked with my sex drive, I’m if being honest. I know there are so many people in much worse situations, but this isn’t some grade-school drama that I’m telling you about. In fact, you’d be surprised that it’s quite the opposite.
You see, my husband Henry lost his job and became a recluse. And while I love that man in whatever shape and life chapter he was in, his libido dropped like a motherfucker. I was left disappointed or underwhelmed in so many of our escapades. Before Henry, my partners probably described me as “shy, quiet, submissive.” Sure, I’m no prude, but I rarely did anything other than missionary. I never questioned that the empty feeling I had after sex wasn’t typical. That I never felt empowered when blowing my partner, nor did I feel like a strong, commanding woman when getting fucked. For years, I feared that I’d be the reason any marriage I was in, would have a dead bedroom. That all changed when I met Henry.
Soon after school, I started my first analyst position at Goldman, and during orientation, the IT presenter caught my eye. Jet black, oily slicked-back hair, flawless and smooth skin, and a body that screamed “i played soccer competitively, but know how to let loose on a weekend.” He was funny, kind-eyed, charming, and most of all, a talker. He was everything I wondered I wasn’t. I”ll skip the courtship and say that after our second date, my job title of “analyst” was…ironic. And apt. For when Henry showed me his bulging cock for the first time, I don’t know what spirit over took me to grasp it firmly, wrap my lips around it as if I’d never see a cock again, and pulled his foreskin back to reveal the most gorgeous head I’ve ever seen, and drive it deep past my teeth, tongue, and frenulum. His cock was perfect. It coated my tongue with the thickest, frothiest, cum I’ve ever tasted, and I’ll let you imagine how the sex was. It was fucking. Amazing. I didn’t realize I squirted extremely easily when a cock hit my cervix juuuuust right. Or that my ass could feel that type of euphoria when he fucked it. And that I enjoyed a bit of pain and a lot of rough, man-handling sex that made me feel like a sex doll for an incel. And that I loved being dominant, demanding, and aware of my own, lovely body. It’s easy to see why I fell in love with this kind, generous, and manly man. He was everything no man I ever dated was. And I wanted to make him mine the moment I knew I loved him. Our wedding, our life, and our home was everything I ever wanted to be. Then, fucking COVID happened. And everything I wondered I left behind, came right back.
It was a living hell. A dead bedroom and a husband who isolated himself in his office trying to find out his finances, job prospects, and life story. I wondered “okay, maybe this will be the case for a month or so,” but it’s been 5 months. Sex went from 3-4 times a week to 3-4 times a month, if we’re lucky. He used to fuck me like I was his queen and his whore, making sure I came, in the greatest, most intricate methods efficient. I’d rarely ever feel like I wasn’t serviced by a 5-star masseuse afterwards, because my body and pussy would be sore form the fucking for atleast the whole next day. Now? He fucked until he came, and treated me like an after wondered. I felt neglected more than I’d like to admit. It all came to a boiling point where on our anniversary 6 months into the pandemic, I couldn’t even get him hard enough to blow him.
“I’m sorry baby. I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.”
“Long day Henry?”
“I think so… do you mind if we just go to bed?”
What else could I say? I obliged, cuddled with him, stroked his back and scratched his hair until he fell asleep. I left to the downstairs bedroom, pulled up some old sex tapes I made with him, and got myself off.
*Fuck,* I wondered. Even I feel a bit underwhelmed right now. I decided it might be fun to scroll Instagram, and see what my friends were up to. I opened the app, and nearly had a heart attack seeing a photo I dreaded seeing: My ex. You see, when I was telling you about my previous partners, I forgot to mention that there was only one other man I loved-Martin. In high college, Martin and I dated. He was a trumpeter in the marching band where I was a saxophonist. I used to think his philosophical debates, taste in music, the way he spoke and the preppy way he dressed were so hot. But we were two good conservative kids and only ever kissed; Not even tongue, and rarely did we even hold hands. We broke up right before prom and went our separate methods, me to MIT, and him off to tour with his band on a year-long gap program for the SF Conservatory of Music. We wanted to stay together, but decided it was for the best to split up. Then my life took a turn, all those boyfriends later, here I was with Henry. I don’t regret anything, but nostalgia is a bitch and I felt like reminiscing. So I pulled his user account up.
In one word: wow. Martin “glowed up,” as the kids say. He all the time had potential, I guess? To be handsome, but he never admitted it. Now? It seemed he grew his hair long and coiffed it perfectly, learned how to groom his beard properly, discovered the gym, and fixed his teeth. And, he finally knew how to dress like the rockstar I knew he was. Whatever image he curated for himself, it was working. And it worked on me. I felt a pulse in my clit that I haven’t felt since I first laid eyes on Henry.
The more I looked at his user account, the more I started to crave that man’s body. A few shirtless pics with a slender woman told me he was likely taken, and I pinched the screen to drag it aside, zooming in to examine his abs, strong legs, and her, of course. God, they were an item. And suddenly, as I was conducting my investigation, a splash of red came across the screen and the photo zoomed out.
**Oh my fucking god, I liked his photo!**
Mortified, I exited the app and felt the rush of blood all over my body indicating my embarrassment. My skin became flushed and I waited until it died down, but a **PING!** Drew my eyes to the phone screen and I saw “Martin is typing….”
Oh my fucking god… When he sent his message, I nearly died.
“Oh hey there stranger.”
*Fuck, what do I say?* I froze. And to take me out of my misery, Martin sent another one.
“Seems we’re touring in your town right now. Meet for drinks at Copperhead?”
I don’t know what came over me but I said “yes sure! When?” The entire time I spent getting dressed, I felt my fingers shaking, my clit tingling, and a numbness in my inner thighs. I knew it was a risk to go meet this man, but right now, *I. Did. Not. Fucking. Care.* It’s been 5 months since I properly came and I wanted proper male attention. And boy, did I get more than what I bargained for.
I’ll skip the details because I can’t stop thinking about the sex we had that night. We met up at the bar, did our cordialities and sat in a booth together drinking and chatting. His knee kept touching my thigh initially, and pretty soon we sort of…rubbed up next to each other and started putting our hands where both our spouses wouldn’t want them. Oh, yeah, that woman in his picture? She’s his wife. But I didn’t care, and neither did he. When the lights got a little dimmer, he learned in and whispered in my ear
“You know, we were such prudes in high school and in my first year with the band, I learned more about sex that I thought was humanly possible. And every once in a while, I think about us back then and lament that we missed out on exploring that together.”
I blushed. *God, he’s good. And he knew it too*, I wondered.
“Martin….you shouldn’t be telling me that.”
“Oh I know Carla. But you also shouldn’t be here, and yet you are…something tells me conversation isn’t the only thing you’re here for.”
I paused. Hesitated. I felt that urge in my body to rip off my shirt and pull him closer to me, grab his hand and push it flush against my tits, and drive my tongue deep into his mouth. But I settled for grasping the bulge in his jeans and rubbing gently.
“You’re right Martin. It isn’t. Now follow me to my car and show me what you learned.”
We barely made it out the front door before he started grabbing my ass and pulling me in. The floral dress I wore hugged my curves and his pull on the back of the dress nearly ripped it clean off. I felt his cock push against his briefs and wedge itself between my ass cheeks. My god, I haven’t felt this submissive since Henry…and Martin’s cock? It felt good. It felt capable. And the way he moved it up and down my ass and back told me he knew what to do with it. Time to show him what I know.
I pushed him off of me and guided him behind the dumpster. I found a clean-ish segment of the back wall and pushed him into it. I grabbed his bulge and rubbed slowly, glancing around to see if we could see anyone. It was almost like a movie; we were perfectly hidden and had juuuuust enough light to make out our silhouettes and features. I gave him a smirk and unbuckled his pants, squatted down deep enough to put his dick at my eye level, and watched it flop out of his briefs as I pulled the elastic down.
*My goodness, it looked like a coke can.*
Henry’s dick was perfect, but it was Not this big. This looked like an overblown earthworm, teasing me with its eyes and perfectly trimmed pubic hair. I wanted it in my mouth. **Now**. And as I pulled his thick foreskin back, the head was gorgeous and smelled like a bit of precum was already there. I don’t know what possessed me, but I pushed his tip close to my nose and sniffed it. Years and years of sex just wafted into my nose and instead of recoiling at a repulsive odor, I was seduced by an enticing aroma. His pheromones were inviting, not intrusive. I pushed his shaft against my sheek and lovingly licked it up and down. I started gyrating as I pushed his cock into my mouth, and with every half squat, I felt my thong pull up into my taint like a boundary preventing me from going further down, catching me before I landed in the filth of the ground below. Martin buckled his knees as I kept sliding his shaft back and forth in my mouth. I was licking his tip, whatever that little hole at the top where the cum blows out from. I felt warm spurts of precum push through as if to warn me what’s in store. I looked up in Martin’s eyes and winked as he soon grabbed the back of my head and pushed his cock so deep into my throat that I pushed my hands against his thighs to stop him from going further; *Is this what it feels like to “deep throat”* I wondered, as the guzzle of cum splash around my uvula and drip down my throat.
It was so much fucking cum.
As Martin relaxed onto the wall, his cock slowly pulled out and dribbles of cum dripped from the sides of my mouth. It looked like spit, parts cloudy and watery, mixing together in harmony. Henry usually finished on my tits, back, inside my pussy, or wherever else. He had something, I don’t know what, against finishing in my mouth. Today was the first time in YEARS that a man finished on my tongue. Just as I pondered what to do, I felt a strong grip on my chin pull my gaze upwards.
“Swallow it,” Martin said as he peered into my soul. I looked back and nodded.
*Yes sir,* I wondered. My goodness, did this boy grow into a man. I locked eyes with him and winked again, sucking in the dribbles of spit/cum that oozed out of my mouth and caught by my dress before it hit the floor, and swallowed. It tasted salty, sweet, and perfect. I stuck my tongue out to prove to my new favorite fuck toy how much of a good girl I was. I grabbed the far end of his shaft and shook off all remaining bits of cum onto my outstretched tongue.
“So much for showing me what to do in the car.” I said.
“Well Carla, the night is still young, and I booked a room for my stay here. Let me show you the way.”
And he zipped up his pants and walked his rather round, well built ass over to his new car. A beauty of engineering meant to impress me, I suppose. But when I pulled up next to him in my own sports car, he looked taken aback and a bit shocked.
“Race you to the hotel?” I offered.
He nodded and smiled that half-smile I remember so fondly now, forgotten after years of being replaced by my husband’s dazzling pearls for teeth. But now, this man had my attention, and my lust.
I revved my engine and pulled out of the parking lot, leaving him to check out my exhaust. *Oh yes, the race is on. And the night is still young. And if you want to know more, ask away.*
NSFW: yes
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