Why do I do it?
A message from the author.
I know that it is not everyone's cup of tea. I know equally well though that there are many of us who thrive on it, who enjoy it and get a big buzz from it. I know I do. I get a massive kick and huge excitement from it. There's some guilt and trepidation too of course, but they are relatively easily overcome. And when you have a fling or an affair the downsides are far outweighed by the upsides, well they seem to be at the time. One of the upsides, ironically, is that often after an affair, fling, or a one-night stand and usually during it as well, you feel closer to your partner and it can become the glue that keeps the relationship stuck together.
Now I am talking, of course, about women cheating. Horrific is it may sound to some bigoted men, it does happen. Women do go off and 'sow their wild oats,' oddly just like men do and have done for years. Well in this new age it's the females' time and it's us who can have our cakes and eat them as we fuck both our husband and our lovers.
I'm talking about cheating, about playing away from home, being unfaithful and having bits on the side. Long term affairs, short flings and even one-night stands, they all provide that buzz, that kick and usually those thrills and excitement. During and between my two marriages I have had loads of buzzes and kicks, and lots of thrills and excitement.
Liaisons such as described above arise from many situations. This series of stories, some of which are taken from my own life, looks at the motivations, pleasures, excitement and concerns of the more common circumstances.
Christina x
*
The casual fuck.
For several months after the end of my first affair, I reverted to my usual roles of wife, housekeeper and now part time worker. I was nearly able to forget about my affair with Kendal; it was almost as if I had seen it in a film or read about it in a book and not been the star character in a real life drama.
As winter set in I started feeling depressed; as October gave way to November the prospect of the long, damp months ahead always made me feel that way. Also, I started becoming restless, I was bored and fed up. Richard had been away quite a lot, meaning we had not had a holiday for ages. I now knew the signs and feelings and I realised that I was ready for another fling.
As is often the case when an office affair goes tits up, one of the parties leaves the office. Clearly, that was not going to be Kendal so I was on my way. My husband Richard and I had been looking to buy a couple of flats and gradually build a property portfolio. Buy-to-let had become a hot topic and it seemed an easy way to make money, certainly enough to more than compensate for the loss of my modest income. Our idea was to rent them out; I would act as the managing agent, giving me something to do as I no longer had a job.
James was the manager of the estate agents in a town a few miles from where we lived, a cheaper area for property prices, and he was handling the search for us. He was smooth, well-dressed, sophisticated, seemingly intelligent, utterly charming and fantastic in bed. However, it took me some time to find that out, for the first few times we had sex there was no bed.
We had been viewing yet another property, probably the tenth we had visited together. It was late afternoon, raining, and chilly. We were standing in the narrow entrance hallway of the flat, facing each other, and each thinking we felt something that had been building up for some time. There was a chemistry between us that James was familiar with, but of which I was wary, although it excited me.
"Is it just me feeling like that?" I asked myself several times as feelings of sexual desire swept through me when I was with him.
"It isn't that big," he was explaining about the two bed-room flat. "But it is adequate."
As I learned later, James often had flings. Late forties, divorced, no kids to worry about, financially very well off and seemingly perpetually horny, why shouldn't he?
His job brought him into contact with quite a few women. There were those who handled much of the viewing, and those who showed prospective purchasers around properties that were for sale. He also met many from other estate agencies and mortgage brokers. To him, they were all fair game.
Smiling and moving just a few inches nearer to me he said. "It would actually make a perfect little love nest, wouldn't it Christina?"
It was a classic seduction technique: get the conversation onto an intimate level.
I was surprised, but managed to keep my cool.
"I wouldn't know James, I've never seen one."
"Actually we get quite a few projects to find flats, for rent usually, that the missus mustn't know about."
"Really?"
"Yes, it seems flings, lovers and mistresses are all the rage at the moment."
"Amazing, I wonder why?"
"Because," James said, his voice quietening and thickening as the excitement of the chase got to him, "Women have more freedom and choice nowadays, I reckon."
"And you think they express that by having affairs?" I asked, my heart starting to pound as I realised that, to an extent, he was describing me.
"Yes Christina, I do, don't you?"
Trying to be cool and clever with my words I quipped back. "What, express their freedom that way?"
"No, I meant have affairs."
My attempt at being clever had failed and I felt myself going red. I knew my attempt at trying to appear cool had also failed. That showed clearly when I stammered, "Errr really, well I don't know."
He had me. He knew it and I knew it.
Putting his arm out against the wall over my left shoulder, he asked "Do you Christina?"
I was having the same feelings I'd had in the early days with Kendal. A kind of sexual frustration, although it wasn't that, for Richard and I had sex at least twice a week, sometimes even three or four times. I was feeling a desire, a want, a need all in one achingly throbbing, irritating sensation. It started deep in the pit of my stomach and was now spreading out to fill my breasts and nipples, which I realised had hardened and were throbbing like two vibrating acorns.
I stammered. "Do I what?"
He smiled at me, just before I averted my gaze, as he replied "Have affairs, of course."
I could not believe how forthright he was. How could he ask such an intimate question in such a matter of fact way? I had no experience of such a conversation or of being so put on the spot. I had no idea how to answer him. My mind was screaming to tell him to fuck off, but my body was screaming to tell him to fuck me.
I hardly heard or took in what he was saying about this being a love nest and how in such places kissing happens, as his hand went around my neck before he lifted my face. I could hardly believe that we were kissing, that his tongue was deep in my mouth and that his body was pressed hard against mine. Those things were happening though. As unbelievable as that was, his hand covering my breast was even more so, and my arms going around his body even more and more so.
He had been priming me all afternoon, I realised that now. Little touches on my arm or back as he ushered me through doors or into lifts, over-familiarity with phrasing, calling me love several times, lingering looks at my breasts, which looked quite prominent in the white, long sleeved, roll neck top under the black, leather bomber jacket and holding eye contact with me just that fraction of time longer than necessary. All that careful priming was now paying off, for him and me, it seemed.
"You have gorgeous breasts Christina," he murmured, his fingers stroking and squeezing my left one, sending torrents of sensation through me.
There was no apt reply I could think of other than, "You must like small tits then," but thought it more prudent to stay silent. Instead of speaking, I pulled his head down and kissed him.
I found it hard to breathe. The smell of his aftershave was so powerful and the feel of his lips on mine was so intimate, the sensation of his tongue in my mouth was so exciting and the feel of his day's growth of beard was so masculine. The feel of his arms around me was so reassuring and the feel of his hard cock pressing into my stomach was so fucking horny I felt in fear of being made to cum there and then.
And that was what James had in mind; well, the there part but not quite the then.
He slid his hand just slightly up the inside of my top in the back. The feel of his fingers on my bare skin made me shudder. He ran them across my waist, just above the top of my jeans. He slipped his fingers into the waistband; I was wearing one of those wide belts outside the roll top so the top of my jeans was not too tight. As we kissed, he pushed his fingers further down, pushing past the belt before they found the elastic waistband of my knickers. He yanked that upward, causing the gusset to be pulled tightly against both the lips of my pussy and my clit, immediately generating an undeniably nice feeling.
I did not mean to make a noise or say anything, but I could not stop myself.
"Oooo," I sighed, groaning "Oh God" as the sensations from beneath my waist combined with those from above it. It seemed my body had now clearly won the battle with my mind, and was being stimulated everywhere: my mouth, lips and tongue, my breasts and nipples, my bum, pussy, clit and my stomach. He assaulted each of these with his mouth, lips and tongue, his hand on my breasts, the other down the back of my jeans near to the crease in my bottom and his hard cock stuck firmly against my belly.
My back was against the wall, but he had pulled my body away from it, from the waist down. He pushed his knee between my legs, opening them before he positioned himself between them. He took his hand away from my breast and grabbed the cheeks of my arse. He pushed the other one further into my jeans grabbing the other cheek, this one though was gripping my bare flesh. He then pulled me hard against his erection.
I was mad, I was convinced of that. We were mad, it was all mad. To be going this far so soon, to be having sex with someone I hardly knew and to be letting him do these things to me was crazy. Yes crazy, immoral, demeaning, wrong, sordid and so unfaithful to Richard. But it was so bloody exciting, those negatives. Or, were they really positives, I mused? Those thoughts soon left me; well they didn't leave but were rather roughly pushed aside by my sexually befuddled mind. They were replaced with feelings of such powerful desire, sexual want, need almost, freedom, empowerment and just sheer horniness that I knew I was now putty in his hands.
I found myself thinking, "this is as near to being fucked as you can be, while still having clothes on."
James had his cock right against my mound, though still inside his trousers. It was stimulating the tip of my pussy and of course my clitoris. He pulled on my buttocks so that the pressure increased. I could not help groaning with pleasure, and arching my back even more, causing me to press myself harder against his erection. He began moving, up and down, up and down against me, sending such delicious feelings rippling through my entire body.
My arms were around his neck, as I pulled on it, grinding myself against him in this amazing simulated fuck. But it seemed that James wanted more. As exciting and pleasurable as this was, I got the feeling that he wanted the real thing; he wanted me, and he wanted me here and now. Yes, this man whom I hardly knew wanted to fuck me in a flat that he was showing me as a potential customer.
Pulling one hand out of my jeans he shoved it unceremoniously up under my top, right onto my left breast. It felt good and we both sighed with pleasure. Without further hesitation he scooped first one and then the other boob out from my bra.
