Let me just catch you up to how this all started...
My boyfriend and I had been dating for 2 years, we'd discussed marriage; it was his idea, not mine. He continuously brought up our future together, asked me all the questions- How long would you want to be engaged? What is your dream wedding? Where would we live? How many kids? Yadda, yadda, yadda. I had this idea in my mind, planted by him, that we would one day get married. Then all of a sudden, he hits me with a bomb- now he's not so sure he wants to ever get married again (he's divorced and has a son from his previous marriage). He doesn't understand why this would be a big deal to me. No, no, go ahead, why don't you just waste more of my "good years" and figure it out until I'm a shriveled up prune and nobody wants me anymore? Fuck that. I want a man that wants me, all of me, including marrying me one day. If he can figure out his shit, good, if not, then I'm not going to be here waiting around for his dumb ass to realize I'm quite a catch.
I'm don't mean to toot my own horn, but I've remained in touch with a few exes and I'm usually "the one that got away" or "the one that nobody can compare to" or something like that. I'm very easy on the eyes: 5'5, long flowing brown hair, intense green eyes, 110 lbs, slim waist and a sweet ass, B sized cups- nice firm, perky tits, great personality- witty, charming, intelligent, adventurous, etc., etc. While he tries to figure his shit out, I'll be out "not acting like I'm married" because why the hell not? I never intended to cheat on him though.
There was this sexy, Italian Stallion that was friends with a girlfriend of mine (or more so, her boyfriend's friend) and he gave me his number and insisted on cooking for us all. I never called him, but my girlfriend asked me that weekend if we were still going to have dinner together, and I agreed. We show up, and he's looking amazing, we dined, and wined and had a lovely conversation. One topic we discussed was the origin of the word "lesbians" (I have no idea how this topic even came up!) He mentioned that it was derived from the poems of Sappho, a poet who was born on the Greek island, Lesbos. Then we discussed the difference between threesomes and mΓ©nage Γ trois. I was amused with his ability to discuss sexual topics without being overtly raunchy. He was just vulgar enough to pique my interest.
After dinner, we decided to go out dancing. We danced very closely together and he kept whispering into my ear how sexy he thought I was and that my boyfriend was crazy. His hands wandered a little while we danced to salsa music, and then he slid his hand up my skirt a little to squeeze my ass and I didn't object. We took some breaks from dancing and got some drinks at the bar. He pulled me onto his lap but I felt slightly awkward with my friend there and politely removed myself to grab my drink. We all talked for awhile and danced some more, and he couldn't keep his hands off me, even when I DID try! He was an amazing dancer, and I was still having so much fun as the night grew later. Our friends soon left us and we were alone, dancing, and continued flirting all night until I decided that my feet hurt and I wanted him to take me home. He walked me to my door and kissed me passionately, our tongues dancing in each others mouths, his hands held my face there and he left me breathless. He said good-night and I closed the door and smiled to myself. This was going to be trouble and I wanted more.
He called me the next day and asked me to go out to dinner with a couple that were friends of his. Dinner was lovely again, and he kept playing footsie with me, which really got me thinking again about the trouble I was getting myself into, but I really didn't care. As I said, I wanted more.