Awakenings_(1)

AWAKENINGS

I really don’t know where to start with this but I have to get it off my chest or the stress will just go on. My husband is a military hardware contractor. We’ve been happily married for four years, and trust each other implicitly. His job entails a lot of travel, but that has never been a problem for me – until recently. We moved to Washington, D.C. a few months ago, where I don’t know a soul, and for some reason, making friends here is difficult. The one exception is Randy, a chef who works for one of the large hotels. He always has a ready smile when I meet him outside the condo, but until a couple weeks ago we’d never talked except in greeting. On evening I was carrying some book cartons in from the hallway as he passed. He just scooped up a couple and carried them inside, smiled, turned and walked out again. Wanting to thank him, I called out, and he paused.
“Thank you. Can I get you something? Coke, tea, a beer?”
“A coke would be good,” he said.
Randy was okay looking. Six-one, a little overweight, with that kind of square jaw that makes men look duller than they sometimes really are. I mean he wasn’t particularly handsome, at least for my taste, but he had a nice smile and I felt comfortable around him. Just another big dufus guy, like someone’s big brother. He told me about his job and said he’d just gotten off work and had brought home some Goulash he’d made at work, his specialty. He asked me if I’d care to share it with him. I agreed and he was back in five minutes, carrying a metal pot.
“I need to warm it up,” he said. “May I use your kitchen?”
“Sure. I’ll finish unloading these boxes while you do. Call me when it’s ready.”
I could smell it simmering as I worked. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the aroma made my mouth water. After a while, he stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Come and get it,” he called.
As we ate, I told him about my last home and my friends back there. It seemed like I’d known Randy for years. We were on our second bowl and the sun had already gone down, when I began to feel funny. Not ill, just loose, like I’d had a little too much to drink. Randy was a quiet type, mostly nodding and speaking in monosyllables, looking at me steadily as I talked. I suddenly felt too warm, removing my jacket. Under it, I wore a simple sun dress that left my shoulders bare, revealing a little cleavage. I almost giggled as I suddenly thought of the first night Stu and I had moved in here. All we’d had was a bed, and boy had we ever made use of it. It was almost as if I could see flashbacks of all the things we’d done that night. I was only vaguely aware that I had somehow removed the hair fastener and let my shoulder-length hair down. I saw that Randy was staring down at his bowl, but I saw a slight smile as he ate.
I remember that sensation of rubbing my thighs together, realizing my panties were sopping wet. I mumbled something, stood and somehow made it to the couch, where I sat with my hands folded on my knees, wondering what was happening. I had to fight back the urge to touch myself down there, where I was now on fire. Why was I suddenly so aroused? It wasn’t Randy. He didn’t do a thing for me. Besides, I’d never cheated on Stu and never would. So why was my vagina so wet? I don’t know how long I sat there like that, but when I looked up Randy stood right in front of me, completely nude. His erection stuck straight out and I could clearly see the large hole in the tip of it. He was larger than Stu, maybe eight or nine inches and very thick.