A message from the author.
Why do I do it?
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. The downsides are far outweighed by the upsides; well, they seem to be at the time. And one of the upsides, ironically, is that often, afterwards, 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 as it may sound to some, 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 too 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 excitements that are missing in our marriage. 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 is taken from real life as it happened to me, looks at the motivations, pleasures, excitement and concerns of the more common circumstances.
Christina x
The Young Man.
I was rarely attracted to men simply by their looks. There is, though, always an exception to every rule isn't there? Carl was the exception. Like many, maybe most, women easing their way through middle age I had a thing about having a young man. Not as a date or to go out with but, not to be too basic, to fuck. To have that one last fling, that one last several-times-in-an-evening and, yes, that one last feeling of him being ready again almost as soon as I was, before I slide off into middle or even old age.
I was rarely attracted to men simply by their age. There is, though, always an exception to every rule, isn't there? Carl was the exception.
I was rarely attracted to men simply by their physique. But there is, though, always an exception to every rule, isn't there? Carl was the exception. He was part of a team doing some work in the grounds of our house just outside Redbourn in Hertfordshire, some 15 miles or so pretty much due north of London.
Irrespective of the sexual thing and him being essentially my prey, I felt that Carl was probably one of the most beautiful young men I had ever seen in real life. He was over six feet tall, well built with a toned and muscular, but not bulky body. He had longish, blonde hair, high cheek-bones, a nicely squared chin and full lips. With the warm weather, he and the other guys had stripped down to either jeans or shorts and vests with the company's name on them. The supervisor asked me if it was ok for them to remove their shirts.
"They can do as they wish as far as I'm concerned," I replied, rather looking forward to seeing three or four young men's physiques. "I'm surprised you asked."
"Our guvnor makes us ask and doesn't let anyone go topless, so we have to wear tee shirts."
"Oh now that's a shame," I smiled back in the joking manner that the guys and I had developed.
A couple of days later, Carl was at the house by himself. Was it luck, a coincidence or had I heard and forgotten that he would be alone, explaining why I wore tight white shorts and a pink tee shirt without a bra? I hasten to add that going without was not something new, as I often went braless. With my modest B cup boobs, not much gets shown unless of course it's cold or I get aroused!
"I've got sprite, coke or would you prefer a beer?" I asked him as he stared at me, with his big blue eyes after I suggested he take a break
"I'd love a beer please."
"Come on inside out of the heat," I suggested.
"I'm a bit messy, perhaps I shouldn't," he replied, indicating his boots and gloves, and mud- and water-splattered tee shirt.
"You could always have a shower if you like," I suggested, rather hoping he would accept.
"I'd love to, but I still have to continue with this afterwards and I'd get all messy again."
"Ok, so just slip your boots and gloves off and come into the kitchen. It's beautifully cool in there."
I watched him struggle with the long boots until the first came off, taking his sock with it. He must have gotten some water in there, I thought, as the same thing happened with the other.
I walked ahead of him along the Yorkstone path, across the patio and up the four steps to the kitchen. I knew full well that I was exaggerating slightly both the sway of my hips and wiggle of my bum, and was sure that he would not be able to avoid seeing it.
"Have a seat," I suggested, pointing at the pine chairs around the long eight-seater refectory pine table.
My heart was pounding with excitement and expectation. I was pushing things; I knew that. It was one thing fucking an estate agent or guys I met well away from home, but quite another seducing a young guy and cheating in my own house with a virtual stranger.
As I got the drinks my mind was in a whirl. In it, Carl was not sitting at my kitchen table in shorts and a tee shirt. No, he was naked in my bedroom. He wasn't complimenting me on my kitchen, but was telling me what nice tits I had. He was not relaxed at the table, but was strikingly hard on my bed. He was not saying 'I would like to have a beer', but was saying, 'I would like to fuck you Christina'.
There was no way out. I was now totally and utterly compelled to go on, to push things further, to extend my boundaries, to gain a new experience and to try to get Carl to fuck me. Looking at him as I opened the beer, I knew that was the case. I simply had to have him. I simply had to, here and now and bollocks to the consequences.
Up until not long ago, when I had started having men other than my husband, there were loads of relationship and sexual things I had never done. Two in particular were that I had never picked up a man and I had never seduced one. Recently I had experienced the former and now, I hoped, I was going to find out about the latter.
Given my dealings with, probably, more than a dozen men I had now been with, I'd learned some tricks and techniques, though.
"So do you have a girlfriend, Carl?" I asked, starting to turn the conversation onto a more intimate level after we had been chatting and sipping our drinks for a few minutes. I'd learned quickly from James, a recent lover.
"No, no I don't."
Looking him directly in the eye and holding his gaze slightly longer than usual, just as Adam had done, I asked, "But I bet you have loads after you, don't you?"
"No, not really."
"I can hardly believe that; the girls around your way must be mad." I went on crossing my legs and pointing the toe on the top leg toward Carl, a little body language trick I had picked up from John when he pulled me to himself in a hotel in Manchester.
