A Hidden Secret?

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My lower back had been aching like my Grandmother always said hers was. Two days of weeding and replanting the backyard this early June weekend had been the cause. Tracy, my wife of twenty two years, had suggested we make the effort this year. We had always kept the yard presentable, but now she wanted to have something ‘we can show off.’ I’d agreed a change was needed. It had been planters on slabs since the time we moved in, with the 30 yard lawn beyond the patio stretching like a water stained, bumpy billiard table.

‘Sod It!’ landscapers had been called in to replace the grass. Their name hadn’t been lost on me as I’d grown up watching BritComs with my two brothers. My eldest brother, now fifty five, had been USAF. He was sent to an airbase in eastern England and had acquired a taste for Monty Python, Black Adder and the rest. His leaving present from there had been a bag full of DVDs. Mr. Sod It! turned out to have had a Scottish mother, realized he could get away with it in Ohio and named his company thus.

So with sod laid, some kind of Euro/US hybrid garden Tracy had planned planted I roamed the kitchen looking for the heat balm my back needed. I was alone in the house that Monday having anticipated I’d need a couple of days off after the weekend just to relax and frankly have some ‘me time’ to peruse the internet for a little escort action.

I had four or five favorites in the area and Nikki was the one I hoped would be available the following afternoon. Nikki advertised as 28, was probably nearer 34 and had a body like Monica Belluci. She probably had a little southern European in her as she had the Roman nose and skin that tanned well. Looks wise she was generic Italian/Spanish and wouldn’t have been out of place in a renaissance painting. Two things I dug about her were: she was down to earth, someone you could chat and laugh with; she enthusiastically allowed my cock in her mouth, pussy and ass.

I had begun seeing escorts around four years ago when I decided I simply needed something more than Tracy was offering.

Tracy had been, sexually, a terrific girl friend and fiance. We’d tried most things over the three years we dated and joked about our ‘Party Piece’. Tracy could pretty much use my cock as a timer. She could blow me fast, she could blow me slow. I’d worked afternoons at a place which made fastenings and trim for the auto industry in Toledo, north of us, and Tracey picked me up one night.

“You drive” she said. “I’m really tired, need to get my head down”. We set off on the 15 minute drive to my apartment. Tracy lived with her Baptist parents and there was an unspoken understanding between all of us she slept, alone, in her own bed at night. I rationalized this by knowing one afternoon I had driven her home after what her parents thought was a 9AM start, window shopping for a moped of all things.

“No I don’t want a moped! Go to your place and I’ll tell you what’s happening as we drive.” I pulled away from her parents place, giving a respectful wave and maybe slightly too bigger a smile as I did so.

A wicked grin spread over Tracy’s face. “You’re going to cum inside me four times today. Twice in my mouth, once in my…cunt” (she’d never said ‘cunt’ in front of me before) “and once, and you’re going to like this one, in my sweet ass. We’ve got a good eight hours before my Dad assumes your trying to finger me at your place. I figure you can manage that.”

I kept condoms (we were going to use them until a month or so before the wedding and then decide how to proceed), lube and a couple of toys Tracy had (nervously) bought from an out of town sex shop at my place. Tracy had stuffed one red and one black thong, a couple of matching push up bras and a pair of thigh high stockings into her purse.

The first shot was very much a gimme. After entering my 2nd floor apartment I simply led Tracy briskly straight ahead into the living room and over to the ‘bachelor brown’ couch I had bought on sale when I moved in. We’d done this before and Tracy needed no prompting in removing her innocently saucy dark blue and white polka dot panties to kneel on the couch facing away from me. Raising her knees on a couple of pillows she gripped the top of the backrest.

Having made a quick trip to the bedroom to retrieve a condom I returned to pull her sky blue skirt up over her hips revealing her well rounded, slightly too big for her frame, ass. I unzipped my cargo shorts and tugged them and my boxers over my stiff, practically vertical cock. Crouching behind Tracy I rolled the rubber on then pushed up and entered her wet, trimmed not shaved, pussy without even having to use a finger or hand to guide me. I thrust deep and hard my hands gripping each of her hips. Tracy gripped the top of the couch, turning and throwing back her head she sighed and licked her top lip. I simply thrust up, faster and harder as Tracy smacked the wall with one hand and gripped on with the other. I had no thought of lasting more than a couple of minutes like this and as Tracy stage whispered “Fuck me you bitch” I exploded halkal─▒ escort into her pussy, straightened my knees and lifted her a foot higher up the couch. I jerked my load into the condom as she stood arching her back so her head fell back on my right shoulder.

By four o’clock that afternoon Tracy had swallowed two (not quite so large) loads of my cum. Once laying on her back with her head hanging over the side of the bed as I gently pinched her nipples and sucked her pussy through the red thong. Tracy would tell me when to fuck her mouth as she licked my balls and gently push my inner thighs back to stop me gagging her. The next time (and the 4th shot) simply kneeling in front of me as I sat sideways, legs apart on one of the two dining chairs (and table) I’d bought with the couch.

Tracy and I hadn’t done anal for at least a month. She didn’t dislike it, but girl talk and magazines had told her asses weren’t meant to be an entrance and there were horrible stories of bleeding and prolapse. So we saved it as an occasional treat. We’d done our research and used a ridiculous amount of lube and some kind of oil Tracy had slipped into her basket at the drug store. She liked it, but this didn’t mean she wanted to spend middle age shitting into a diaper.

As the clock approached 11 AM Tracy knelt doggy style in the middle of my Queen bed. She had parted her now stocking clad legs about a foot apart and had her head sideways on the pillow, her arms stretched past the sides of her head. I knelt behind her and licked the rim of her ass hole, first in circles and then up and down as I eased my tongue into the musky warmth. Tracy groaned and tightened her hold on the pillows. I took the lube and oil and applied it to my hard cock and Tracy’s ass. Gently probing the finger sized butt toy Tracy had bought on her secret shopping trip inside her, I whispered “OK?”

“Yes” she breathed.

I continued gently easing the toy in about two inches then began slowly drawing it in and out in a pumping action. Tracy groaned, flexed her fingers and whispered “Take me”.

We’d agreed we’d only use condoms for birth control as we were monogamous and almost as a joke had taken STD tests (both negative) about six months in to our relationship. So it was then that I guided the thick uncovered head of my rock hard cock against Tracy’s snug hole. I placed my hands on her cheeks and using my thumbs eased her slightly open. I gently pushed forward slowly easing myself in, stopping every half inch or so. Tracy told me to fuck her slowly which is what I did until little by little I was balls deep in my fiance’s ass.

Tracy was gripping and ungripping her hands, whispering “Fuck my ass, fuck my ass” like a mantra.

I’ve always loved that musky smell that rises from a woman’s ass during doggy or anal. It’s not an offensive smell like feces or a fart, but an earthy, base aroma that can only come from one place and is as animalistic as it is a turn on.

“You OK?”

“Yeah, fuck yeah.”

Subconsciously I had quickened and deepened my thrusts and Tracy had begun slowly wiggling her stuffed ass side to side. Inevitably trapped air started to produce anal queefing. Tracy had been completely embarrassed when this happened for the first time, the second time we had done anal. I dug it. To me it was total. I’m fucking a woman in her ass. Her ass is making noises. We’re both still horny as hell and don’t care.

“Cum in your ass?”

“Yeah, I want it inside remember?”


“Yeah, do it”

We were good in bed together and I hated the idea of hurting a woman, any woman physically during sex. Pain could be different. Consensual pain like a nipple bite was hot. Hurting was not.

I moved into a crouching position and bore down more, pulling Tracy’s gyrating hips into me. She was classically biting the pillow now as my cock and her rectum slid like well oiled machinery, it’s lubricant spilling out dribbling down my balls and her inner thighs.


“Yes, yes, fuck my hole, fffffffuck it!” she hissed. Then, “smack that fuckin’ ass!” This was a first. I’d just never thought to have done it and Tracy had never encouraged it. I gently slapped her right cheek, not skipping a beat as my balls were about to send today’s second load. “Slap it!” she commanded. I gave the same cheek two sharp smacks, the second one stinging my hand. “Shit” I thought.


I delivered two heavy slaps, one with my palm, the other with the back of my hand across her left butt cheek. I was so turned on I emptied my balls, deep in Tracy’s ass, with a final four or five deep thrusts.

The French call it ‘Le Petit Mort’; the little death. I collapsed on top of Tracy, somehow sliding my softening cock out of her before her hips hit the bed.

Tracy lay beneath me panting, not saying a word. I was genuinely worried. We were fucking hard and I sure as hell wasn’t in her vagina. Plus the slapping, had taksim escort I hurt her? Had I upset her?

“Oh. My. God” Tracy spoke clearly, but huskily.

“Tracy, is everything OK?” I spoke as clearly as I could.

“Shit, yeah. Christ. Oh man, I needed my ass fucked like a whore.” A pause. “Not every time, but one day we’ll do that again.”

“Umm, is your ass OK?” I ventured.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m going to take a cool bath though. Make us a sandwich or something. Hey here comes the train.”

With that, Tracy hopped back onto all fours and queefed, or plain farted a splattering of cum out her ass. Chalky white with a vein or two of light brown.

My girl, the corn fed Baptist daughter who had politely asked the Preacher’s wife if she would like more lemonade, the woman who would pack our kids lunches one day had just farted a guy’s shit laced cum out of her smacked up, freshly fucked ass hole.

I could not have loved her more.

This brings us back to Tracy and mine’s ‘Party Piece’. Tracy could blow me and make me cum to the second. It had taken some unofficial practice and verbal communication, but we had it down pat ninety percent of the time.

Driving back from the plant Tracy ‘got her head down’ into my lap.

“Tell me when we’re at Arlington and Rossmore and let me know the color of the light” Tracy stated as she unzipped my pants and licked the head of my cock. The intersection was a ninety second drive from my apartment’s nearest street corner, the idea was to have me cum as we turned the corner.

It wasn’t all about me. Tracy wore skirts mainly, with woolen tights in the winter. Tonight, this being September, she just had a knee length skirt on with her panties stashed under the front passenger seat. I hadn’t noticed she had tucked a towel under her butt too.

I’d never liked automatics, but they did have their advantages. I could easily rub Tracy’s clit and just about work a finger in on the drive home. Sometimes she came, sometimes she didn’t. “I’ll finish your job myself later myself” she’d tease if I let her down. She owned the ‘Party Piece’.

After twelve minutes we reached the intersection. “Green, turned a few seconds ago”. Tracy had her legs spread by now with my hand inside her skirt. When street lights allowed I’d glanced across, my fingers were wet, but Tracy hadn’t started squirming her hips forward yet which was the sign she was cumming.

Tracy lifted her head (thank God I hadn’t had to make a quick turn!). ” Show time”, she giggled.

Tracy bounced her head up and down like a jack hammer, tickling my balls with her manicured nails. Her tongue coiling and uncoiling around the head of my glistening cock.

Eighty five seconds later I groaned and shot a load into Tracy’s waiting and receptive mouth. Tracy gagged slightly, a spluttering noise coming from her mouth. She had always been a swallower and gulped as I carefully completed the turn into my street.

“And the winner is Ter…racy!” as she smoothed her below the shoulder length hair back and checked her face in the visor mirror as I pulled up outside my building.

I confess I’d lost focus on her clit and Tracy would probably be putting in some overtime later that night.

“Well, thanks for the ride”, I smiled.

“Yeah, anytime”, she grinned back.

That was it. Tracy checked for passers by and pulled her panties back on. “Here”, she said, handing me the towel. “Wash this please. Or sleep with it first”.

I playfully shook my head and grinned at her. Where would I find another like her?

So back to the present…

Nikki was on my mind and my cock grew as I remembered parts of a previous meeting. Nikki had taken my cum in her mouth, then dribbled it down her cleavage, a spit and semen cocktail. I’d nuzzled between her breasts, licked it up and we’d french kissed.

“You kinky bastard”. Nikki had told me after our lips unlocked.

“Kinda spontaneous”, I admitted, feeling a little awkward.

Nikki had grinned as she moved to the hotel room bathroom leaving me to contemplate the taste of my cum.

I smiled to myself in my kitchen as I continued the search for the damn balm.

” Trace” (as my inner mind called her) “might have some in her sports bag.”

Tracy had been a useful defender playing some fairly serious recreational soccer after she left school. She had stopped for a few years and then resumed around ten years ago, playing on Thursday and Monday nights. She had a game tonight so her bag would be packed and ready in the bedroom.

Tracy worked four days a week for the billing department of the local water utility. “Easiest job in the world.” she told anyone who asked. “Water’s still cheap and 90% of people pay on time, some even get it free.” It brought in some extra money, half of which we put away and the rest Tracy spent as she saw fit.

I worked for one of the big auto makers in Toledo. I’d done some time on the line and apparently had an aptitude for planning. I was ┼či┼čli escort sent on a series of in house Project Management courses in Detroit and became a small cog in a big Strategic Planning department.

Her red and white bag sat on a hope chest at the end of the bed. I couldn’t look at that chest with it’s firmly padded vinyl lid without remembering the dozens of times I’d stood in front of it either taking Tracy from behind or her ass resting on it, her head on the bed, her feet on the floor as we fucked face to face.

I unzipped the sports bag’s side pocket and came up empty, just gum, a head band and some towelettes. I really didn’t like rooting through Tracy’s purse or bag, although she’d tell me to go ahead if I needed keys or change, etc. Some things are yours.

Sighing I opened the main zipper and delved down between the cleats, shin pads, socks and uniform. There it was! I felt the smooth, rounded plastic of the roll-on container and pulled it out.

A rustle of cellophane mildly interested me as I retrieved the container, glimpsing a white plastic bag and a swatch of material I didn’t associate with soccer.

I contemplated the plastic grocery bag for a long ten seconds, then curiously lifting it out through the sports wear I gazed at the contents. The swatch had been the top of a halter top in dark green with small pink flowers. Dropping it down on the chest I looked in some more. A pair of rumpled, obviously worn, thigh high stockings. I did a quick memory check and could not remember the last time she’d worn thigh highs in front of me, it was at least a year anyway.

What The Fuck!

I replaced the contents and stuffed the bag back among Tracy’s soccer uniform, pushing it to the bottom, pretty much as I had found it. I zipped the bag back up and stood silently in our bedroom gazing at the window.

“Trace is fucking around on me” I softly whispered to myself. I wasn’t angry, had no plans in shoving the bag in her face, screaming at her as she opened the front door. I was partially numb, but my mind was calculating and clear.

As I said earlier I had visited escorts for five years, give or take. Tracy’s sex drive had fallen off quite dramatically in her late 30’s. I didn’t blame her for it, though I resented the fact she was unwilling to do much about it. She would be dismissive if I brought it up, sometimes less than sympathetically, and claim she was tired. “Tomorrow hun, OK?” Mostly tomorrow never came.

I loved sex and frankly wasn’t going to deny myself. I figured in twenty years from now I’d be more or less done with it. No woman under fifty five would look at me and even escorts would put me in the ‘old man’ category. It had taken some internal dialog to justify action, but after the first time, which had been easier than I thought, there was no looking back.

Confronting Tracy would open a massive can of worms. A good divorce lawyer would do some digging and in court, if they played dirty, the inevitable question would ring out. ” Mr. White, how long have you visited prostitutes?”

Any hope I had of being on the ‘winning’ side would be gone. Tracy would be looked on favorably by the court and I’d end up back in an apartment wondering how it got to this. Over the years our friends had become mutual, Tracy had brought many more friends into our relationship than I had. I would miss a lot of them and knew they would be on Tracy’s side, no matter what.

My back gave a twinge and I applied some of the balm. Replacing that in her bag (now so as it didn’t look disturbed) I laid on the, now practically for sleeping purposes only, bed and somehow dozed off.

I must have needed some rest as I woke about three hours later. Two seconds after waking Tracy’s suspected infidelity sprung into my mind. I headed to the bathroom to shower, partially to rinse the balm off as I supposedly hadn’t been in her bag and partly to think.

Warm water cascaded from the over sized shower head and I considered the possibilities.

Was Tracy covering for someone? I seriously considered this. She just wasn’t the type to fool around. Deep down she was old school, a one man woman. Had she grabbed them from a cheating team member who was on the verge of being caught by her partner?

Tracy had met someone, maybe a younger guy who dug Milfs? Something had come over her and maybe she needed her youth back?

Tracy had decided to try ‘The Dark Side’? ‘The Dark Side’ was the name we gave jokingly gave lesbianism. There were three ‘out’ lesbians on her team and I suspected at least a couple more. We had a handful of male and female gay friends, but conversation had never come up about bi-curiosity and Tracy had never showed too much interest in the sex lives.

I finished showering, toweled off and changed into clean sports shorts and an Indians t-shirt. Tracy would be home soon. I liked cooking and told her I’d be whipping up a stir fry for her approval for dinner. “Nice” she had replied. Tracy was a good cook too, but did it out of necessity and would beg off if I was home.

I puttered around the kitchen, slicing beef and chopping vegetables. My over active mind wondering if Tracy was parked behind an anonymous building introducing a twenty one year old to our ‘Party Piece’. Or perhaps Sandy, Tracy’s team captain and ‘out’, had her tongue buried in my wife’s ass, two strong fingers working her G-Spot.

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