Cum Laude A Hands On Lesson

Entry 35

'I slept with him. I slept with the Nikolai Fraiture look alike, AKA my husband's best friend, AKA the best sex of my life. And I don't feel terrible.

Every time I imagined sleeping with Gary's friend, I felt terrible because I shouldn't obviously be having wild fantasies like that. I was a wife and a mother, and I should do all I could to protect my marriage and my home, right?

But what if my marriage is not serving me? What do I do now?

After the act, you'd think I would be drowning in guilt, pacing back and forth, and thinking deeply about all my life choices. But the truth? I can't bring myself to feel bad.

I don't feel bad. At all.

Instead, I feel alive. I feel like I should have done this sooner because it made me feel empowered in a way that nothing else ever has. There's a pep in my stop, and I know this sounds like the cheesiest thing, but hear me out.

Ladies, that fuck you've been holding out on would completely change your life. Don't let these men lie to you and tell you that women shouldn't be bothered about sex too much; if not, they are a slut. Be bothered and stay bothered.

None of this was planned. Sure, I documented what I was feeling on here, but I didn't wake up that morning thinking, today's the day I break every unspoken rule of marriage and throw myself at Gary's best friend. Nope. It just happened.

One minute, I'm upstairs changing, thinking about how I haven't had sex in months (thank you, Gary, for your stellar attention to detail), and the next minute... there he is. Standing in the doorway like he knew exactly what was going through my mind.

Did I tell him to leave? Sure, in my head, a hundred times. But did I actually mean it? Not even close.

I really wanted him to stay. I've replayed that scene in my head a million times, but never did I think it was actually going to happen, you know. It all felt weird and fake at the same time, but then he started talking, and I knew he wanted the same thing I did, too.

It was like all this time, we both knew that we wanted each other.

And then we did it! On mine and Gary's bed. It was wild, and I had no words to actually describe what he felt like inside me, stretching and filling me up.

It was even crazier, given that Gary was just downstairs and the door wasn't locked. The thrill of being caught and my husband seeing another man's dick buried inside me made it even sweeter.

Ugh. I'm getting wet just thinking about it.

I have never experienced passion like that or how he was so strict with me when he fucked me. I might be into submission...? I guess we will find out later.

I'm not the dutiful wife who sits quietly in the corner, waiting for her turn to feel something. I want more than that. I deserve more than that.

And here's where it all gets pretty tricky: I don't think I can go back to a life of boring sex with Gary. He's not ready to up his game, neither is he ready to have passionate sex with him. To him, I'm just the mother of his child who's readily available to tend to all of his needs.

But I want more. I deserve more!

Am I really supposed to just be satisfied with the same old routine, day in and day out? Because I've tasted the forbidden fruit, and I can't go back to having just anything.

I want passionate, hot, wild sex. I want the kind of thrill that makes my pulse race. I want more sexual escapades with people.

I tried using an app, but all the apps use the photo system to stay safe, and ya di da. As much as I loved being risky and living on the edge, I didn't want to get caught. I like the thrill of almost being caught, but I need to think of my daughter. So I'll have to find my next escapade in the shadows after all.

Does that make me terrible? Maybe. Do I care? Not really.

Final thoughts: If you're judging me right now, don't worry, I get it. But before you come at me with your pitchforks, ask yourself: when was the last time you really felt something? I know most of you are housewives whose husbands have either abandoned you to dive head first into work or the next younger girl. Or maybe they don't just find you attractive.

So, when was the last time you felt something or did something for yourself? You deserve it all. The love, the devotion, the all-shattering sex and passion.

So, when was the last time you truly felt something? Like, head-to-toe, can't-stop-smiling kind of felt something?

Exactly. I rest my case.'

Willowville Community College was gorgeous. And maybe I was saying this because I'm completely partial to the school and everything it stood for, given that I graduated from there more than a decade ago.

I loved coming back here to buy croissants from the bakery inside the school. Although the croissants are completely dry and flaky, and most of them are just warmed from the day before, I loved driving fifteen minutes just to try them.

There was a sense of nostalgia that always enveloped me whenever I got them and paired them with a cup of hot chocolate. It was simply heavenly.

These days, I've been trying to live off of nostalgia to distract myself from how slowly I was losing it. Since the very wild and exhilarating sex I had with Grayson, I've been looking for a way to replicate that high.

First off, I tried some of the weed he'd brought. It was nice, a very good strain, but the high never quite matched the high I got being pinned to a bed and completely fucked like I was a sex doll.

Then, I went back to my vibrating toothbrush, but again, it didn't match that feeling.

For the longest time, my vibrating toothbrush had done it for me, but now, it felt so underwhelming compared to the real thing. I couldn't stop thinking that maybe I'd made a terrible mistake.

If I hadn't fucked Grayson, maybe I would still be content with getting high or using my vibrating toothbrush to please myself. Now, I spent my time dry-humping everything in the house, trying to replicate that feeling, but nothing was working.

So I knew that I had to leave the house. I had to find something that took up my time, so I was distracted. I've found my finger hovering on Grayson's number numerous times, and I've been so close to calling him up and begging him to come bury his dick inside me once more.

I felt like I was on withdrawal from a very strong drug, and it was really getting to me. I needed a distraction as soon as possible.

Which was why I considered the volunteer options at the community college. If I'm volunteering, I won't be thinking about how much I want my pussy pounded into. It was a good distraction and bonus point because I actually got to do something for my community.

I chose to join the campus cleaning and sustainability project volunteer group. Every couple of days, I show up at the college to keep it clean and help sort out recycling.

For the past week, it has been working just fine. But now, I'm slipping back into old habits, and I can't stop imagining myself being bent over behind a tree and fucked senseless by one of the college students.

They were all so buff, had amazing builds, and, for the love of God, wouldn't stop wearing gray sweatpants.

I've counted at least thirteen dick prints I've seen, and I've only been here for an hour already.

God, I need something in me as soon as possible.

"Excuse me?" A voice said in front of me, and I realized my eyes were closed, and I'd said that out loud.

Fuck me.

My eyes slowly fluttered open to see the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes looking down at me. He had dirty blond hair, slightly tousled like he'd just rolled out of bed. He was all tall and looked extremely nerdy, in a cute way.

I probably looked dumb holding a trash bag and a litter grabber and talking about how I needed something in me.

"I meant I needed food," I said quickly, which I guess was a pretty good save.

The boy smiled, his dimples digging into the side of his cheeks. Aw, how precious.

"You're new here, right?" he asked.

I smiled, biting back the playful quip that danced on the tip of my tongue. "I'm not that new," I teased. "I used to go to school here, actually. But it's been a while. I'm just here volunteering."

"Ah, a local. I'm kind of new here. I started my Master's program a month ago."

I rolled my eyes with a giggle. "You're not that new then."

He laughed, too. "Maybe I'm not so new then." His eyes lingered on me for a beat, and then he stretched out his hand. "I'm Alan."

"Ashley," I said, taking his hand in mine.

For someone sweet and precious, he had a pretty tight grip. I wanted to dissolve the conversation because Alan didn't seem like my type, and he looked too sweet to be able to give me what I wanted, but at the same time, I was intrigued.

If I was going to be coming here a couple of times a week, I might as well make a friend.

"Since you're moaning about being hungry, you can have something here." His eyes trailed to the trash bag and litter grabber I was holding as if he was just seeing it. "I'm sure these can wait. We don't want you fainting on campus."

"Yeah, I'll grab a croissant at the bakery on the 37th."

He raised an eyebrow, the side of his lips poking up into a side smile. "You're not serious, are you?"

I shrugged and rolled my eyes. "I know it's not great, but it's nostalgic, and I've needed some nostalgia lately."

"I understand. They're terrible, but it's very hard to stop eating them when you start."

I laughed. "Yes! God, they were awful. I practically lived off them back in the day. Could never resist the glaze, even if it tasted like cardboard."

"You're just a sucker for bad food," he said, his voice dropping to a suggestive whisper which caught me off guard. "But if you're up for something better, I'm a barista at a coffee shop off campus. Swear they have the best croissants you've ever had."

Then, as if by magic, the nerdy, shy demeanor he had earlier on completely disappeared. His eyes met mine, and I felt an excited ripple go through my entire body. This was wrong, wasn't it? I was married, for God's sake. I wasn't supposed to be standing here, flirting with some grad student like a girl half my age.

But the way he looked at me--the way his lips curved into that dangerously tempting smile--I couldn't help but imagine all the ways this could go.

He could take me to that coffee shop and fuck me silly. And for a second, I allowed myself to imagine what it could be like. I imagined his touch was so gentle even though he's a little bit larger than me, and I hate myself for the way I imagine that same touch on my breasts, down my spine, between my legs. Tracing my pussy while looking in my eyes. And suddenly, I wasn't just imagining any more. I was wanting.

"Uh, I dunno. I have a lot of trash to pick," I said finally after finding my voice.

"Alright then. I'm sure you'll be taking a break pretty soon, so make sure you stop by. I'll be there from 12-2pm during my break. You should definitely stop by. It's my treat, and it's way better than any croissants you've ever tried."

I laughed softly, shaking my head even as my heart raced. "Are you really trying to woo me with pastries?"

"Is it working?" His grin widened.

It was definitely working. It was working a little bit too much because Alan was not my type, but I just needed to be close to any man at this point.

"I'll let you know when I try it."

He grinned, the dimples in his cheeks becoming even more prominent. "So that's a yes, right?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "That's a maybe."

"Great! The coffee shop is called Bakers n Cream. I'll see you there," he said with a wink as he walked backward.

God, he was intoxicating and very convincing. My plan had not involved driving to a coffee shop to have the alleged best croissants in Willowville, but I had nothing else to do, so I might as well.

I also couldn't help but see that every word he said and every look he gave me pulled me in deeper so that I could feel my almost nonexistent resolve shattering.

In a couple of hours, I pulled up in front of Bakers n Cream, my heart pounding in my chest. A part of me believed that Alan had invited me here for an ulterior motive--which I hoped it was--but another part of me felt like he was being sweet.

Maybe I looked like a pitiful older woman, and he just wanted to do something nice.

Fuck it, Ashley. I said with a sigh, pulling down my car mirror and checking my hair and face.

I looked okay, as far as okay could go. I'd done my hair recently, so it was still silky and bouncy, and my skin had been cooperating, which was good.

I applied a bit of pinkish lip gloss on my lips, fluffed my hair, grabbed my purse, and walked into the coffee shop. It was almost empty, except for someone who I assumed was a student studying.

"Hey," I said, approaching the counter which Alan stood behind. He looked even more boyish in his apron and hairnet.

He signaled for me to take a seat, and I turned around and waited for him.

What the fuck was I doing? Is this what I had reduced myself to? Maybe I should just call Grayson and get it over with. Maybe he'll even find it hot if I cried and told him how much I needed him over the phone. Or maybe he'll think I'm a psychopath who he would never want to have sex with.

"Glad you came," he said, sliding into the seat in front of me.

"Couldn't pass up a good croissant, could I?" I quipped, keeping my tone light even though the tension between us was anything but. I could feel it now. It was strong and all-consuming.

He chuckled. "It's a pretty slow day today at the shop, but I knew you'd come."

That confidence--the way he spoke to me like he already had control of the situation--made me shift in my seat. Alan was ten years younger than me, at least, but the way he carried himself and looked at me made me feel like I was the one out of my depth. And I liked it.

"You seem pretty confident about that," I said with a chuckle.

He just shrugged, not responding to my question.

"So," I said, leaning closer to him and trying desperately to take charge of the situation, "you always bring older women to coffee shops with promises of croissants, or am I special?"

His eyes darkened slightly, and he leaned in closer, lowering his voice just enough to send a thrill down my spine. "You're special. But you already knew that."

I swallowed. Okay, he wasn't playing around. He suddenly had a dominance about him that I hadn't noticed. It was like he was already in control of the situation. Like he was in control of me.

"You're very confident."

"I just like to get what I want," he said, his eyes holding mine in a way that made my breath catch.

"Oh? And what exactly do you want?" I teased, half-joking, half-testing the waters.

He didn't smile. He didn't blink. He just looked at me and said, "You."

I felt my cheeks flush, and a nervous laugh escaped me. "I'm older than you."

"And what about it?"

I blinked at him, not knowing what else to say.

"So, you're... the type to take charge, huh?" I asked.

Alan leaned forward, his eyes not leaving mine. "Let's just say I know how to handle things. How to handle people."

Just when I thought the conversation might go back to something lighter, he slipped something across the table--a small, folded note. I picked it up, my heart beating in my chest.

The words scrawled across the note were simple, but the message was anything but.

Meet me at the Clarion Hotel by 7pm tonight. Room 236. Don't be late.

I blinked, the shock hitting me before I could even process it. Alan sat there, looking at me with that same calm, collected expression.

The note was blunt, commanding, and left no room for interpretation. It wasn't a polite invitation. It was a demand.

Okay, I should end this now and be on my way back home, but I couldn't. I just couldn't because I could feel myself getting wet and soaking through my panties.

I wanted this. I wanted him.

"I'll see you tonight." And with that, he stood up and walked toward the counter, preparing a cup of coffee and croissant for me.

By some minutes to 7pm, I was sitting in my car outside a dingy motel. I knew I shouldn't be here, but it was too late now. I'd already sent Paul a text saying I would be back home a bit late, so the home situation was already taken care of.

I quickly got out of my car, walked to Room 236, and knocked. Alan opened the door and grinned when he saw me, totally convinced that I would come.

He pulled me into the room, and before I could even say a word, his lips came crashing down against mine. It happened so fast we were lost in the feeling of our lips moving in sync.

His mouth tasted like black coffee--typical--and he kissed me with long, powerful strokes of his tongue that sent butterflies straight to my stomach.

I needed this as much as I needed oxygen. And from the corner of my eyes, I could see an array of whips and other toys laid out in wait.

As I'd guessed, Alan was dominant.

I moved my hands up and down his back, feeling the taunt muscles of his back from underneath the shirt. Suddenly, he pressed me against the wall as his lips moved down to my neck, kissing and nibbling.

Alan's hands gripped my ass as he hoisted me up, wrapping my legs around him as he ground me into the wall. I felt the rock-hard bulge between his legs as it rubbed against my very swollen clit.

He'd pulled my dress up so it was pooled around my waist, and I moaned as his cock pressed on my clit.

"Alan!" I let out.

"You want my rock, hard dick, right?" he growled into my ear as he pressed harder on me, releasing an explosion of heat around my body.

"Yes," I cried out.

"Then get on the bed and undress!" he commanded.

I scrambled to the bed, faster than anyone could say, Jack Robinson, and got off my dress and underwear before laying on the bed.

My heart was pounding hard in my chest as I wondered what would happen next. The uncertainty of not knowing made me even more hornier.

"Spread your arms and legs wide apart," Alan said, walking toward the table by the side of the room.

I swallowed, not moving, as I watched him take some cuffs from the table.

"W-what are you doing?" I stammered.

"You don't ask questions. You just do what I tell you to do," Alan commanded through gritted teeth. "And since you asked a question, you've done something bad and will need to be punished."

Before I could even decipher what was happening next, he came toward the bed, flipped me so I was lying on my stomach, and whipped me on my bum.

I felt the searing pain of the leather whip on my skin and let out a cry.

"What the fuck?!"

"Right now, I'm your master and you will obey my every instruction and not ask any questions."

I swallowed and nodded quickly, my clit heating up from the way pain and pleasure mixed together in my body. I'd never experienced something like this or been a submissive, but I was loving it so far.

I stayed still as Alan tied my hands and legs to the bedposts until I was splayed out on my bed. He watched me for a couple of minutes, not doing anything. And with each minute that passed, I was getting more feral with need.

I needed him to release my hand so I could touch myself, or he should do the touching, goddammit.

Finally, Alan undressed and moved toward me, careful so he didn't touch me, which made me want to scream. Right now, I would even take the painful feel of the leather whip over not being touched.

Slowly, his hands began to move over my shoulder as it ran down my sides. He moved past my breasts without touching them and circled my belly button. One finger dipped lower and skimmed my entrance. I groaned.

God, I need his finger in me now.

"You have to be a good girl for that," Alan replied, and I would have sworn he was reading my mind, but again, I'd just said my thoughts out loud.