Henry and Maria


This is a continuation of my first two stories, so this would be Chapter 03

One day, about six-months into our affair, my older lover Henry asked me for something very unfair, “Let’s take a trip together,” he suggested.

He asked me that because we had been spending less and less time together. At the time, I was afraid my husband was starting to get suspicious. Nothing ever came of my worrying, but I remember being very apprehensive about sneaking away to see Henry.

Once, in his room, Henry had buried himself deep inside me – inch-by-inch contaminating me – and after we finished, I rolled off the bed and instinctively went to open a window to get the smell of sex out of the room. I slightly slid the drapes and immediately dropped to the floor when I caught a peek outside. I thought I had seen my husband down at the sidewalk looking up at the window. My world ended.

“What?” Henry asked me and went to look at the window. He saw that it wasn’t my husband, just someone that barely looked like him. I confirmed it myself, but instances like those had become part of my life. And I didn’t like it. So I thought Henry was being very insensitive asking me to go away with him, and I told him that with a lot of harsh words.

I didn’t speak to him for many days.

During this time apart, one of my co-workers came up to me and informed me about a trip to Atlantic City. The hospital had made most of the nurses get some certification a few years before I arrived. My co-worker had asked me if I had the certification. If I did, then I could get in a free trip to Atlantic City, paid by the hospital, where a workshop was taking place for all those who had that certification. She and many others were more interested in a free trip than the actual workshop. I wasn’t certified, but she handed me an information sheet anyway.

It wasn’t until a few hours later, on my way home, that I realized I had found a perfect excuse that would allow me to get away with Henry.

I thought about what a few days away with Henry would be like. I pictured going-off some place, didn’t really matter where, and simply walking around with Henry out in the open. Maybe even holding hands.Getting to spend nights with him. Whole nights. Saying things like “Good night,” and “Good morning.” Not having to rush while changing. Not having to cancel last minute plans. And, obviously, I thought about all the exhausting pleasure. It sounded amazing.

I was still mad at Henry then, so I didn’t call him right away about this opportunity. But one afternoon I couldn’t wait anymore, I had to cash that lottery ticket I had been handed. Before checking with Henry if he could even get away or not, I casually told my husband about Atlantic City. I handed him the information sheet so he could see when and where it was. I didn’t think he would care to read the entire thing.

He didn’t.

My husband didn’t see a problem with any of it. He was more worried about me losing money at the casinos. He told me right away that I was a terrible gambler, but that I should knock myself out anyway. When I got a free chance later, I called Henry and we talked about it.

After making up over the phone, Henry asked me for details. When? How many days? And if we could do it, where did I want to go?

I told him the girls were leaving Friday night in a few weeks then, and getting back the following Monday morning. So I had to be back by then, and that, “I don’t really care where we go,” but obviously not Atlantic City since there was a chance we could be running into my friends walking around town.

He stayed quiet for a little while, I could practically hear him thinking, and then he came back with, “I have a friend with a house in upstate. He was renting it out to a couple of goofs, but he kicked them out a while back ago. I doubt he’s already rented it out, he asks for a lot of money.”

“Did you tell him about us?” I asked him, worried that he might have.

“No, no,” Henry said. “He won’t be there, like I said. He rents it out and I doubt someone took it already. I’ll check. I’m sure if I ask him that he’ll let met stay there. But, now that I think about it, I’m not sure if it’s furnished or not anymor. I’ll check that too. Listen, we could just go somewhere else. Fly, maybe, to Florida? I’m just talking aloud here, where do you want to go?”

“No, no,” I said. It didn’t sound practical flying anywhere either. A picture came in my mind of me missing a flight and getting stuck someplace without being able to get home. “Your friend’s house sounds nice,” I said.

Henry called me back an hour or so later and told me that his friend’s house had not been rented, we could stay there if I wanted to, but that it was not furnished.

I told him yes and he promised to go up there beforehand and buy a few things to put around the house. He especially mentioned a bed.

We still had a few weeks before our trip and plenty of time to plan. And worry. I kept getting nervous thoughts. I worried about my husband Ankara travesti running into someone from the hospital and asking them about Atlantic City. I knew the chances of that happening would be small. I couldn’t picture my husband walking up to anyone he didn’t know very well and asking them questions. He wasn’t that type of person, but I was nervous. So the thoughts came anyway.

Henry, on the other hand, was calm.

He came up with all these plans and back-up plans for our trip. Like if my husband wanted to drop me off at the bus stop – where my co-workers were supposed to board the bus for Atlantic City- what would I do?

“Just get on the bus and drive away with everyone,” Henry had planned. “Wait ten minutes and tell the driver you changed your mind and want to get off. You’re sick. I’ll follow the bus and pick you up at the side of the road.”

“They’ll think that’s odd,” I said. “I don’t want to do that.”

Henry frowned and said, “Then I’ll pick you up in Atlantic City.” He was anxious about wanting this thing to happen. I was too, but at time it felt like maybe it wasn’t worth it. I spent one day thinking about calling the whole thing off, and the next all excited about going.

Then the night finally came. It was a Friday after work. Around seven-ish and getting dark outside. Cold.

I slowly packed a bag in my bedroom. When I was done, I went downstairs to say goodbye to my husband and daughter. They were both watching television on the sofa. My daughter kissed me on the cheek and my husband patted me on the butt to say goodbye. I stared at them with a bag in my hand, afraid my husband was going to ask who was picking me up again. I had told him before that I would call a taxi to take me to the bus stop, but I was so nervous that, at the time, I thought he looked at me oddly. He didn’t. But I was expecting him to get up and put his shoes on and drive me to the bus stop.

But nothing happened.

One minute I was saying goodbye to my family, and the next I had heard three consecutive honks outside my house. It was the taxi. I said goodbye again and left out the door with my suitcase. My husband just said to have fun as I went out the door.

The driver asked me where I wanted to go and I gave him the address to a parking lot about twenty-minutes away. I kept looking back at the taxi’s rear window to see if I was being followed. I had been so silly. When I got to the parking lot, I picked out Henry’s car right away at a corner space. He drove a black Sedan. Four doors. He was smiling through he window.

“Did he say anything?” Henry asked me as soon as I opened his passenger door, “I thought you might call me and tell me I have to pick you up in Atlantic City.” He laughed.

“I was too,” I told him and we kissed. I felt Henry’s warm grasp on my chest as he slid his hands over my sweater, groping me inside his car. Giving me tongue. Getting glimpses of his face as we held-on with trembling mouths. He lifted the bottom of my sweater, tucked his entire head under and moved my bra down to lick my breasts. Shutting his lips around them and wetting my nipples with his drool.

“Henry,” I moaned until his perversions forced me to press my right check against the passenger window and I remembered where we were.I was staring right at other cars.

“Stop,” I moaned at him. “Stop, there’s cars.” He took a few finals slurps and popped back out from under my clothes. He turned on the car with one hand, put the other one at my knee and we drove away.

Henry told me the drive to his friend’s house would take less than four hours. We made it in about six-and-a-half because about halfway there, we stopped at a motel and checked ourselves in at a pay-by-hour place by the highway. A single story building with block of rooms. Cheap, but clean. The woman at the reception desk looked at me oddly as I walked-in with Henry.

I had been wearing a conservative black sweater with tight denim jeans and black suede shoes. But she stared me down as if I had been naked. She was around my age. Taller and self-righteous looking. I think she thought I was a pro by the way she slid the keys towards me on the counter, like she didn’t want to touch me. Like I was dirty.

Henry was old enough to be my father, and I had turned thirty-four a few months earlier then. Henry was tall and trim, but he couldn’t hide his hoariness. White hair. Slightly-drooping face. Spotty hands. I was fully aware of it all before, but I never had to deal with that before since we had always been alone. I thought I could handle it, but the way that woman had looked at me doubled those feelings.

It didn’t matter though, at least for that small while, because we were in and out of her gaze quickly and I put it out of my head.

As soon as Henry and I got to our room, we turned-on the lights, slammed the door behind us and locked it. Henry walked over to the drapes and said to me, “Get on your knees,” pointing to spot in front of an armchair by the door. I watched Konya travesti him walked towards the windows and close a few spots that could be peeked-in from.

On my knees, I began pulling off my sweater. I heard Henry walking around and then felt him standing in front of me. When I got my sweater off my head, I saw his manhood trying to poke out from his boxers. Pointing right at my eyes, built a nice looking tent in the process. He pulled down his underwear to meet his thighs. I slid it down the rest of the way to the an ugly red carpet.

“Stick out your tongue and put it in your mouth,” he said sitting down on the chair.

I stared up at his face as I ate deeply. Strongly. Hungry. My head bobbed furiously up and down on his stick. I took in every inch. A slurping crash of our juices chugged along the room as I swigged precum and saliva. Stroking my lips towards his crotch, I heard him howl. His hands moved to perch at the back of my head, guiding me by the hair. Henry knew how he wanted his cock sucked.

“Slower, faster, lick it there, twirl your tongue,” he demanded. I coughed a few times, spat on the floor to clear my throat and then went right back to sucking and pulling his prick. His legs began trashing. I traced the length of his dick with my tongue, licking him like an ice cream cone. From the bottom all the way to the top and back down again. After a few trips, he began pushing my lips down on his piece again. I heard him calling my name on the chair. He let me go and I saw a thick, slimy line connecting the head of his cock to my mouth.

I wiped my mouth and began began playing with his balls. I liked playing with his balls. Winking up at him when I tugged at his sack with my teeth. He would wink back. I would always try not to laugh when he winked back, for some reason I found it funny. I started laughing and I covered my mouth with my hands.

He laughed too.

“Every time,” he said chuckling, and let me laugh it out on the floor. When I was done, he gently drew me up and pulled me close to him so he could unhook my bra on the back. I loosened my arms and let it fall on the floor. His warm hands fondled around my breasts. Cuddling them with his thumbs and index fingers. Smooth and soft embraces. He sat back on the chair when he was sure my nipples were hard. He grabbed his hose and swung it from side to side, inviting me again. I put him back in my mouth and right away I sensed he was ready to explode. He cringed and wailed. I was ready for the juices to start flowing. Even after six months, a simple thing like a blow job with Henry could turn me on so much. I loved sucking his old cock.

It was then that he told me,

“Give me a second,” he said and pulled my head out of his mouth. I stayed on my knees on the carpet and licked my lips as I stared at him. I was still hungry. I had grown to love Henry’s cock in my mouth. Everywhere actually. It was the perfect size for me, it fit right just about anywhere inside my body. I can still picture it. It was slightly curved and with a very thin and very black vein running on top. Circumcised. Bushed. Average size but I think a little plumper than most. I missed it when it wasn’t near me.

I was about to ask him if I could put it back in my mouth, when instead he said,

“Come on, get up,” and helped me off the floor. Smiling, I got up and he made me walk backwards until I spilled on the bed. I fell down laughing. Henry just stood there at my legs. I could almost feel his eyes on my chest.

“You’re already tired?” I said teasing him. I coiled my hands together and stretched them back over my head. I had been ready to spend the night there. I wanted to. We hadn’t brought our suitcases out of the car, but I pictured just staying the entire two days in that little room. Fucking. Sweating. Cumming. In a bed with rough covers and staring at ceiling that was chipped and needed painting.

Henry didn’t say a word. He got close and began undoing the button on my pants. He pulled them down roughly taking my panties with it. I felt a bit of a burn on my skin as he did it. I kicked off my jeans. Henry took off my shoes and socks and threw them against the wall. When I was completely naked, I spread myself open instinctively.

He got on the bed and mounted me.

Lately then, I had grown accustomed to Henry taking his time before entered me. I expected his mouth to reciprocate what I had done for him earlier, but not that night. I almost bit my tongue when he stuck it in. I thought he would kiss me and then head down and have a late dinner, but he simply wedged-in his flute and played me like a song.

He groaned as he pushed softy.

I had been getting wet since the parking lot back home, so his muscle was easily sliding in and out of my pussy. My breasts were bouncing to his slow rhythm. I clutched at his ass and made sure to leave marks with my nails as I held on. My blood was steaming. His gun was so wonderful and powerful. I started moaning. He started talking.

“You İzmir travesti like taking your medicine” Henry asked me.

“I do, I do,” I moaned as Henry rocked me. I opened wider for him and he took the message to push his hips harder and go for deeper. Picking up his pace. Panting. Rushing his hips down in a way that made my pelvis shake.

“I know you do,” he said.My climax was building as he violated me. I and began playing with my clit. The combination of his strokes and my rubbing was sublime.

“Que me haces, que me haces, madre, que me haces?” I kept saying. What are you doing to me? What are you doing to me?

Tickles of Henry’s sweat beat down on my body. My own skin was glowing. I was staring right up at his eyes, watching him grunt showing teeth. I just wailed softly beneath his body. My hips had started buckling, bouncing my ass on the bed. My legs wrapped themselves around his waist, trying to hold on.

My right hand was still ringing my clit in circles and I could feel it had swelled like a grape. My left went on his shoulder, just to hold on. I think he thought that I wanted a kiss, because he reached his face down and started kissing my neck and nubbing at my ear.

He said to me almost whispering, “Look down.” He was thrusting harder now. I could hear our crotches clapping together. I loved it. I was really getting fucked now. My legs had a hard time holding on to what he was doing to me. They kept losing their hold.

“Maria, look down,” I heard him say again.

I didn’t pay him no mind. I just closed my eyes and listened to that familiar orchestra of the rattling bed. The headboard banging. Felt the mattress drooping beneath us at the spot his organ crashed down one me over and over again. The sluggish springs getting weaker with every thrust. The covers starchy on my ass.

“Look down,” he said again, this time louder, and I snapped my eyes open and looked down. A little upset as he took me away. I saw my right hand rubbing circles around my clit, with his cock disappearing in my vagina nearby.

“See,” he said struggling to breath. I didn’t know what he meant. I wondered if he was talking about the way he was stretching my pussy? About the way his cock gleamed with my juices? I stopped playing with my clit so I could see better. I concentrated and then I realized, “Mierda,” I said. Shit.

“Forgot,” were the only words Henry said as he smirked and tried to catch his breath. He was talking about a condom. I had forgotten to ask him to wear one. Again. I had talked to him about always using protection, but he had said that he won’t ever remind me. He liked it better without, he said, “I’m old and set in my ways.” I just laughed at that and said okay. Fine. I trusted him and he trusted me. But I promised myself to remember to ask him, and I did most of the time. And he complied when I asked. But yet another time had gone where I had fallen asleep on watch. I should have told him to stop, but there was something so perfect about Henry being raw inside.

I loved it too, and finally admitted to myself that I wanted to forget to ask him. The thought of him cumming inside me again was too sensual and sexy and nerve racking and thinking about all that, along with one final slam of his hips, I came. I came loud. And he followed soon with his slimy, juicy, milk. Warm. It was euphoria feeling his gun shoot inside me. Making pie.

It made me horny all over again.

Henry said that I screamed when he came, but I called it a semi-loud moan. I did curse though. I stayed on my back and rested as I felt him get him off me and lie down next to me. We didn’t say a word. We were both just looking up at the ceiling. I was enjoying the moment of not having to rush out for once.

Eventually, we went under the covers and talked while watching the end of some bad movie. He held me and I put my head on his chest. His warm yogurt flowed out long after we finished. It was running all over my still parted thighs. We talked about the condom situation.

“I don’t want to use any this weekend,” I told him. We were still watching TV. He had gotten up to turn on the lights and then ran back under the covers. My insistence on condoms had always been because of safety. I was on the pill and Henry had been cut years earlier. I made him show me proof once of his vasectomy, paperwork. Pregnancy was not an issue, but I had mentioned a list of others before.

“Lady,” he said holding me, “I was expecting a fight now.” I had always put on a sour puce every time we had forgotten one. Not a big fight, but I always had words with him about how dangerous it was.

Instead of answering, I reached down at my pussy while starting at him, wiped some of his semen with my fingers and licked it.

I could see in his face that he got hard again. He got himself on top of me. Sat on my ribs and put his prick between my breasts. It was Hard, not like before, but with plenty of meat still, and I knew what to do.

I pressed my breasts together with his penis in the middle.

He started to fuck my tits. His balls were grinding back and forth on the bottom of my breasts. I pressed them harder and opened my mouth so I could catch the train that headed my way. I could only taste it a few seconds before it pulled away.

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