DISCLAIMER:- The following text is sexually explicit and contains depictions of sexual acts that have been classified by the surgeon general as potentially dangerous and unhealthy. You must be a broad minded adult to read the text, and you must not make this text available to minors or to any person who does not wish to view it. Unprotected sexual relations with unknown partners is hazardous and we urge the use of condoms and safe sex at all times.

Kristen was an on-again off-again lover in the Seventies. She was 27 with an
innocent well-scrubbed face, a friendly smile, frameless glasses, and an athletic
field hockey player’s body with the sexiest little bubble butt. The big
complications were that she and I were both married, and not to each other. Another
thing we had in common was our sexually apathetic spouses. Mine was at least
willing to have sex once a week, but Kristin’s husband, David, showed an interest
only every month or two.

Why Kristin’s husband showed no interest in her, I’ll never understand. In bed she
was actively enthusiastic, vocal to the point of having my apartment neighbor
pounding on the shared wall one afternoon, and she had the most delightful pussy I’d
ever encountered before or since. It’s most pronounced feature was a grippy muscle
ring at her vaginal entrance that felt like the width and strength of a thumb and
forefinger encircled around your shaft. You most definitely were aware when your
cock penetrated that cozy little home away from home.

Alas, Kristin only fucked a few times. She was hyperanxious about being discovered.
Those those few times were really terrific. Kristin had an IUD that she trusted,
and neither of us had a concern about STDs with the other, so it was All Systems Go
for bareback sex.

So the on-again time lasted a few months, then it was off-again for a couple of
years. We remained friends in the interim. Then she told me that her husband’s
sexual interest had brightened a bit and they were having sex more often, and that
she had learned to be multiorgasmic. That brought about our second on-again period,
when we fucked a couple of times and she showed me how quickly and how frequently
she could climax.

Then we had another off-again. A year later, Kristin told me that she and her
husband were moving up-state a few hundred miles. She asked me if I wanted to see
her one more time, for old time’s sake. She didn’t have to ask twice. We arranged
to meet a few days later in the large, quiet parking lot of a local suburban
community college. Kristin arrived in her van. It was one of those things that was
common back in the Seventies, with two big seats up front and a large, open space
behind that was fitted out with a foam mattress and some simple shelves.

I joined her in the back of the van. Before long we were both naked below the
waist, and Kristin’s mouth was busy on my cock. While that was enjoyable, to say
the least, it wasn’t all I was hoping for. After a few minutes of that, getting my
cock rock hard and wet, she straddled me and started rubbing up and down on my
shaft, capturing it lengthwise in her slick, noticeably heated cleft, notched so
very nicely between her pussylips.

“So here’s the thing,” she said. I confess I was only paying half attention to her
words. My real focus was anticipating what it was going to feel like to get back
inside her vagina. “David and I have been trying to get me pregnant.” Her hips
kept undulating, and my cock was nicely nestled. “My IUD came out a few months
ago.”

Selfishly, I didn’t like where this seemed to be headed.

“I’ve been taking my temp. I think I ovulated last week and I’m almost due for my
period.” She paused. “I think. I might even be pregnant now.” Now I was paying
attention. Her hips slowed a little bit. “I brought an old diaphragm with me and
some jelly. But… I’d rather not use it. I don’t think I have to.” She paused
again. Our eyes were locked together. “I’m not worried. If you are, I can use the
diaphragm. Or you can pull out.”

Kristin stopped moving. My hands held her hips. I told her, “You know how much I
want to be inside you,” and she smiled, adjusted her straddle, and impaled herself
on my erection. Everything was the same, and old memories came back to me in a
glorious rush. The same thumbwidth encircling snugness, the same creamy heat
farther inside, the same rubbery nubbin of her cervix that no longer had that
distracting IUD string emerging from it.

Off we went, her hips gyrating and rocking, my hands going between her bare hips to
her petite breasts still encased in her bra and tshirt. She climaxed twice, each
time arching her back and rubbing her g-spot against my shaft. I could feel it
roughen against my cock just before she crested, holding her breath for a few
seconds and closing her eyes, then exhaling a loud groan and refocusing her eyes on
mine.

“Okay, now you,” she grinned at me. “You get on top.” I didn’t complain.

We switched positions again, and I was back to driving my cock into her glorious
snatch, this time with one end in mind. I was in a rhythm, firm and steady with
full length thrusts. Kristin’s legs curled around the back of my thighs, pulling me
toward her. Her hands cradled my face and she whispered, “It’s okay, it’s okay,
just let it go,” and I did. I unloaded a week of semen into her, juicy spurt after
juicy spurt. “I can feel it,” she whispered, “Oh so hot, I can feel it” and that
just kept me going and going. When I slowed, her hands reached down between us and
I felt her fingers playing with my shaft. “I forgot how much bigger you are than
David,” and then with a giggle, “And how much you come.” She got it all. For old
time’s sake.