This Isn’t Adultery

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I watched Julie wipe the cloth over the round wooden bar table and lift away three more glasses for cleaning and as she straightened I caught her eye and smiled at her for the umpteenth time that night. She returned my smile knowingly, displaying a perfect set of pearly white teeth that never failed to dazzle me. What pleasure I took, as I watched her move behind the bar again, knowing that in less that fifteen minutes we would be copulating furiously on the floor of the bar trying not to wake the landlord slumbering above but secretly revelling in the danger of discovery. The only potential disruption an old man taking longer than we would have liked to finish his pint, I stared at him sending subliminal messages to hurry up and drink up and to then exit the bar.

Julie was, and had always been, a very beautiful woman. She was thirty now (as was I) but to me she was as attractive as when I had first met her fifteen years before when I was forced to sit next to her in Mr. Smith’s English class. She had shoulder length brown hair that she seemed to colour light in the summer and dark in the winter. Whatever the season it was always impeccably framing her cute, smiling face – her hair parts like curtains to reveal her features. I was smitten from the off and still am so perhaps my description of her is biased and I could be accused of seeing her through rose-tinted spectacles. But if I do exaggerate her beauty it is only in the slightest. Her eyes were the rich green colour of emeralds and sparkled fun and interest constantly, while her button-nose set off perfectly by her pink smiling lips. Sadly, at that time, I could not accurately describe her body, but suffice to say that she looked, under her immaculate school uniform, to have curves and swellings in all the right places (at least as far as a smitten teenage boy knew).

But even with all those physical features the most striking thing about her was her personality. I have never come across someone who had a bad thing to say about her. Her enthusiasm and good humour was infectious and she seemed to have a mission in life to have a good time for everyone else to have it as well.

For all that I say about her though I never dated her in school. There were a number of reasons. Firstly, I had a pretty low self esteem at that age, in common with a lot of teenagers. I thought there was no way someone as perfect as I thought Julie was would look twice at me as a prospective boyfriend. I wasn’t cool. Fair enough I was sporty and made a few friends but I wasn’t in the “in crowd” at school and never would have had the confidence to ask any girl out until I was eighteen let alone Julie. The second reason was that over time I became very friendly with Julie and in class we would goof around and joke and laugh and we generally got on great. I worried that if I told her how I really felt it would change all that forever. Being friends with her was better than nothing, wasn’t it? But the main reason I never told her how I felt and asked her out was because throughout high school she dated her childhood sweetheart Bill Baxter. And everyone liked Bill. Hell, even I liked Bill. He was a good guy who obviously cared for Julie a lot, even at that age and he was never anything but nice with me despite the fact Julie spent a lot of time with me over the next few years.

So that was that, I spent the next few years getting friendlier and friendlier with Julie and Bill all the while carrying a Statue of Liberty sized torch for Julie but keeping that secret guiltily under close wraps. And Bill and Julie fell further and further in love and by the time we were all twenty three they married (none of us were what you would call scholars so we all stayed in the same old town and got jobs and got on with the business of living our lives). I left town within a year of the marriage to start a new job, if I had to guess I would say that a big part of my decision bahis firmaları to leave was the marriage. It seemed so final and drew a big line under my secret desires and I felt I either had to get away or go slowly mad.

Getting away worked for me and not seeing her every second day or so gently weaned me away from my feelings for her. I threw myself into my work and began to see Amanda, a girl from work, on a pretty regular basis. Within two years I was engaged to Amanda and life was sweet. I had grown up. Last year I got married. I had all that I ever wanted.

For Julie though, life had a cruel stroke planned and her husband, Bill, tragically was killed in a sailing accident two years ago. I never got the full details and didn’t want them as I hugged Julie at the wake following his funeral (most of the town attended – everyone distraught at this tragedy). When I first hugged her it was a different girl I was hugging, that life in her eyes was gone and I felt no lust or longing for her now, only pity and sadness. Or maybe it was me that had changed, how I viewed things now altered by my time away.

Anyway that’s all in the past now…………….

So why am I watching Julie tend bar and waiting for her to finish to grab a few minutes of frantic, illicit sex with her before I head home? To cut a long story short she moved up here, where I live, and got a job up here. She wanted to get away from all the memories, both good and bad, at home and she ended up here. Then she got a part-time evening job in this bar and not long after that I started coming down to see her late on and before too long one thing led to another and we started this little game. This is not adultery.

Back to the present and this annoying old man is really dragging his pint out, getting full value from it. Plus he is perched atop a high wooden stool at the bar and as Julie dips forward to wash and rinse out the used glasses I can imagine him trying to per down her top. Which is stupid because he must be nearly eighty years old, seems to be staring into space above the bar and Julie is wearing a pretty shapeless white shirt and jumper combo that, although it matches the olde world ambience of the bar does nothing for her stunning figure. I am jealous and paranoid because someone may be eyeing up my girl. My girl! Thinking of Julie as my girl sends shivers up my spine, not for the first time I think about how life could have been so different. Still ,live for the moment as my mum used to say (and probably still does as she sits constantly gossiping on the phone).

He moved! He definitely moved in his seat! Yes I can see him pushing his glass toward Julie and her grasping it with almost indecent haste and delivering it to the washing sink to be cleaned. He has gotten off the stool now but, damn, he’s left his jacket on the coat hook by the door and is heading straight to the toilets located in the dark recess to the left of the bar (where only two night earlier I had shuffled into hurriedly with Julie still impaled on my engorged penis and my pants around my ankles as we heard footsteps descending from above). I smile a frustrated smile at her and she coquettishly blows a kiss back at me as the wooden door shuts. This is not adultery.

“Want another?”

“Another what?” I replied mischievously.

“Another drink, you clown” ,she replies while playfully throwing a damp at towel at my head.

“No, he’s bound to go home when he gets out of there, it’s nigh on closing time anyhow.”

“You hope.”

Further discussion is cut off by his reappearance, cautiously zipping up his trousers and heading back to the stool. Aaaagh! he’s going to order another drink.

But no, he collects his pipe from the bar’s ashtray, stammers a goodnight to Julie, lifts his coat, nods at me and blissfully exits. Before the swing door has even swung back fully Julie is there and bolting it shut. Bar’s closed. kaçak iddaa Closing time. As the drunken landlord slumbers above she turns to me with a wild, wanton look in her eyes that suggest she now only wants to do one thing. And that is with me. This is not adultery.

Within seconds she had slid in beside me on the soft, cushioned pew along the wall facing the bar and we were urgently kissing like love-struck teenagers, our hungers and desires stoked over the last couple of hours now unleashed and unstoppable. My tongue invaded her mouth to be met by hers and as they explored each other I revelled in the soft comfort of her lips. My hands wanted to wander over her fabulous body, to rub and feel and gently massage all it’s wondrous nooks and crannies but they seemed glued to the side of her head, holding it upright in a mirror image of what she was doing to mine.

It was Julie that broke off the minute long engagement of our tongues a wicked smile crossing her face as she slid to her knees and manoeuvred herself between my trousered legs, slowly playing her hand over the increasing ridge at my crotch as she moved. By necessity these were fast and frantic couplings, the risk of discovery high but also a great turn on to us both. In a blink of an eye my zipper was down, my belt undone and my six inches of stiffening manhood arose to be lovingly kissed by those soft lips. A small moan escaped me, then a louder one as after a pre-emptory lick she rolled my foreskin back and engulfed my throbbing helmet into her mouth and began to caress it wonderfully. This was a small taste of heaven (for me that is- it was literally a taste of something else for Julie!).

For a second I was frozen, I could only look at this vision of beauty between my legs and relish this. I reached forward and brushed a stray hair from her forehead and her large green eyes looked up at me as her head bobbed rhythmically up and down, and if I did not have the self control I did possess I would have cum there and then. But I held on safe in the knowledge there was greater pleasures to come. I could have stayed like that forever but our circumstances dictated that wasn’t an option and as my rock hard, throbbing cock slipped from her mouth, a small drip of pre-cum forming at the tip I pulled Julie to her feet and planked her down atop the table and between us we wriggled her jeans down to her ankles.

While her clothing for her stint behind the bar that night had been practical and comfortable, her underwear was seemingly purely for the purpose of looking as sexy as hell. It succeeded – Big Time!

She was wearing the flimsiest, laciest pair of red panties, whose gusset I nimbly pulled to one side to reveal her glistening sex. She was shaven down there, a delight I had encountered when I first started living out my teenage dreams with her. The skin surrounding her vagina was so smooth and I loved to lap my greedy tongue up and down it, circling the best bit, leaving it ’til last. Now it was Julie’s turn to let a low moan escape, and tighten the grip around my head holding me close to her crotch. But I wasn’t trying to escape.

My tongue then began to probe her most sensitive area, simultaneously tickling and pleasuring her so she shuddered to it’s touch. She was wet down there already without my efforts as I knew she would be. Rarely was she not excited on the times that I visited the bar and waited for her to finish up, whilst we stole secret, knowing glances at each other past unseeing, uncaring bar patrons.

I wouldn’t give her oral sex for long, I was desperate now to use my cock rather than my tongue and by the look on her face she wanted it as much if not more than me. I stood back and as she balanced atop the table I spread her legs, her jeans dropping off and slid my pelvis up between them until the point of my cock rubbed her clit. No more stalling now, no more foreplay, with a guttural grunt of pleasure kaçak bahis I penetrated her and pushed myself forwards as I felt her push herself against me. Both of us equal partners in this hot, explicit scene in this seedy little bar. But I never thought of it as adultery, not once.

Like animals in heat the sex we shared that night was fast and hard, desperate and urgent as if we were in a race to get off. I suppose the threat of discovery drove us on but more I think it was the chemistry we brought out in each other, the knowledge on my part that this is what I had wanted as a teenager and had been deprived so long that I had to try to make up time. Julie told me once that it was only during our lovemaking that she was fully able to put her past behind her and for that small time escape the memories that she both cherished but haunted her also.

I concentrated on remaining as hard as I could, prolonging the shared pleasure this was giving us, knowing that nothing in either of our lives would be so alive, so vibrant, as this until we were next together. As I thrust harder into her my hands roamed under her shirt and removed her unseen bra so I could kneed and massage those fantastic breasts she kept so hidden here. Often I liked to expose them under the gloomy light of the bar and use my mouth to worship them. To take them into my mouth and stimulate her almost to orgasm just by licking, chewing and nibbling on her perfect erect nipples. But not tonight. Tonight we were already too noisy and reckless and we each knew this must end soon or court discovery and disaster.

I thrust harder now and could feel Julie match my frantic efforts while nearly biting her lip such was her struggle to keep from calling out loud. My penis felt like it must explode and I knew that I had to cum, but something in my head tried to prolong the ecstasy I was enjoying and I concentrated hard to stay hard. Julie meanwhile, had her eyes screwed shut and was in the throws of her own ecstasy as I throbbed and pulsed inside her. I could hold out no longer and felt sperm boil up inside me and shoot though my penis and spray out inside her, the touch of it’s hot stickiness set her off and I revelled in observing her orgasm under me seconds after myself. It was a glorious moment and one no better or worse than the many since we had set on this course months ago.

We were both spent and for a long moment we lay there like statues precariously balanced on top of the table. Each striving to catch their breath through heavy breathing in an oppressive, heavy, musk scented atmosphere. Julie broke the moment by flicking her eyelids open and dazzling me with her emerald eyes. The look said it all ‘Thank you. I have to get on. I love you’. She never actually said anything, just stretched her lips up to meet mine and enjoy a soft kiss goodbye.

As soon as we had re-dressed I exited without further comment through the unbolted door and stole into the darkness of the cold winter night, my breath casting a grey mist before me. I walked swiftly through the narrow streets and lanes towards home and an empty house. My wife worked during the evening and would expect me to still be up when she returned in an hour or so with a coffee (or something stronger) ready for her.

So it was that fifty minutes later I heard the door crack open and her feet in the hallway. As she came into the living room she looked cold and I briskly whipped out a cup of steaming hot coffee into her grateful hands. She held it in both hands as if to warm them and I gently placed both mine over hers and looked deep into her bright, emerald eyes and said “I love you Julie”.

Like I said this isn’t adultery, it never has been. As I stood in the congregation watching Julie cry her heart out at her husbands funeral it brought home to me exactly how much I cared for her and I broke up with Amanda immediately. Julie needed a good friend and that was me. She eventually needed a lover and that was me too and then she needed a husband. I’m happier now than ever before in my life and I think Julie is too. The past is the past and it should stay there.


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