Deflowering the Forgotten Housewife: My Thrilling First Conquest

Her bedroom. Wednesday night, 9:30 PM. Thick curtains drawn tight. Pitch black. Canopy bed swallowing the shadows. I stripped naked, slid under sheets. Cock already twitching at the thought. Heart thumping hard. This was new. Her kind—stuffy blonde, 39, untouched for 18 years. Practically a virgin. My gaze had forced her door open downstairs. Now, the couch chat replayed in my head. Her perched on the edge, ass barely touching cushions, ready to bolt. ‘Age?’ ’39.’ Tutoiement threw her. ‘Married?’ ‘Yes, Édouard.’ Lame name. Housewife. Kids in London. Hubby away. No sex since kid two. Arranged marriage at 18. Virgin then. Chambers apart ever since. No lovers. No orgasms. Jackpot. ‘I’ll take care of you. Do everything I say.’ ‘Yes.’ Too quick. She led me upstairs. Showered on my order—fix that awful hair. I snooped. Philosophy books. Surprise for a bourgeois bitch. Waited. Pulse racing. Excitement of the forbidden unknown. No turning back now.

She emerged from the bathroom. Pink bathrobe. Godawful color, but dark hid it. Hesitated at bed’s edge. ‘Come.’ Voice low, husky. ‘Husband…’ ‘Five days.’ She slid in. Hands clenched on robe. Too close. She stiffened. Heart hammered in my chest. Gentled it. Kissed forehead soft. Neck slow. Hand on cheek, down to nape, shoulders. She melted a bit. ‘Untie.’ Fingers shook undoing belt. Small tits. Firm. Perfect. Fingertips circled. Grazed skin between. Nipples peaked. She gasped loud. Breathing ragged. Rolled peaks between fingers. Squeezed full. Cock swelled rock-hard. Her first real touch. Wetness building down there—she squirmed. Peeled robe off. Firmer now: ‘Arms up.’ Licked armpits hungry. Goosebumps everywhere. Tongue on tits, neck, pits again. Body arched. She shattered. First orgasm. Mine too, that way. Insane. Troubled me. Nearly lost it. But held. Hand trailed down. Thighs parted slight. Fingers along outer lips. Slit soaked. Index dipped in. Slow up-down. To clit. Back to puckered anus. Slick everywhere. Repeated. She exploded again. Feral.

The Approach

Couldn’t wait. Rose over her. Missionary. Cockhead nudged wet folds. Thrust deep. Tight grip. Virgin walls? Few pumps. Rhythm broke. Jets of cum flooded her. Relief crashed. Collapsed aside. She curled into me. Warm. Slept 20 minutes. Woke, dressed quiet. Scribbled note: ‘Call Sunday: 85 24 28 25 27.’ Left her sleeping. Drove home dazed. Best fuck ever. Novelty burned. Her weird orgasms. Duty to teach more. Innocence shattered. Mine shifted too. No kid gloves anymore. Heart still raced remembering.