Again, just a quicky without much of a storyline. Not much kink this time, depending on your view none, just adultery, sex and minor drug use. If you don't like this kind of stuff, go and read somewhere else. The 3w is big enough for all of us.
For the rest, I hope you enjoy.
Feedback would be nice.
And here it goes:
Guilty Pleasure
my wild love is crazy,
she screams like a bird,
she moans like a cat,
if she wants to be heard
The Doors, My Wild Love
I feel like shit. I am lying on the bed, resting half on her soft body. I can feel the fruit of my loins slowly seeping out between her folds and my softening cock. Gradually, the post-orgasmic bliss is fading and with the fog of lust gone my sense of morality returns. And with it, my world comes crashing down inside me.
I have never before cheated on my wife. I had not even taken on her offer to screw around for six weeks shortly after we had gone steady while she had been going to California. "By the time I'm back you then know whether we are for together and you can stay faithful or whether we better part way" she had said.
What have I done? Why have I done it?
Because she is younger? Far from it. Kelly is at least ten years my senior, which makes her at least sixteen years older than my wife.
Because I don't love my wife? Quite the contrary, I love my wife very dearly. That is the problem. How can one potentially hurt somebody one loves so badly and against better judgment? I don't think I would care if I didn't love her anymore.
Because my sex life, barely existing as it is, is shit? Possibly, but it is at best a partial explanation only. My sex life has been pretty bad for quite a few years now, though it has hit a new low about sixteen months ago when my wife was in the last trimester of pregnancy. We have drifted far apart in our sexual preferences, both in time and type. The former means, when I am horny, she is not and vice versa. Not anybody to blame, I guess. It is difficult to control hormones, especially to turn them on at will, without taking tablets. The latter means I would love to play more with bondage, dominance and orgasm control than we ever did, at both ends of the game, while she has turned to quicky style wham, bang, thank you, ma'am, ah, mister.
Having had sex only four or five times in over a year certainly has fueled my illegitimate action, it did not start the fire. I had been tempted before but never acted. This time I would say I hadn't even be tempted. Temptation insinuates a choice to either give in or not. I didn't choose. I just acted without considering not to. Whatever had gone on inside me, it had literally overrun me without temptations choice to opt out.
Was it the alcohol? Certainly not. I wasn't that pissed and had been drunk much more in other tempting situations without succumbing. If at all, having been drunk would make me behave like this much less likely. For one, I do not lose memory from drinking, no matter how much. Remembering every stupid thing one did is a good way of preventing one from doing them. I do a lot of weird, even stupid things and I don't mind. I do mind people having reason to think I did it only because I was drunk. Secondly, if I'm really drunk, I can hardly get it up and am usually faster asleep than anybody could revive my little fella.
Which leaves: I was the eponymous dick, the proverbial male excusing himself by claiming he was thinking solely with his second head.
Now I got to make the choice of trying to keep it hidden, after all, what my wife doesn't know doesn't hurt. Neither her nor me. Or to slink ruefully back home, confess and hope she can forgive me.
Either way, I will need all the luck I can get.
As to how: that is a much simpler story, if longer.
It had started with us going to a congress. Us, that is Kelly, a good twelve years my senior in the firm and deputy head of department and, of course, myself. The congress had been much as expected. Some lectures and talks were good, some bad, some in between. My own had been going quite well, really. In addition, we made some connections in regards to future business. On Saturday evening, the show was over. Not officially, but little enough people usually stayed for Sunday morning lectures, so the organizers had only put fringe themes up. None of them were of any interest to me or Kelly, nor to the department. That meant I had an early evening and the prospect of a lie in waiting for me.
After the last lecture, we just drifted along with the flow of people when she addressed me.
"You're coming later?"
"Coming? What to?"
She rolled her eyes at me.
"The gala dinner of course."
"Oh. That. Nah, I don't think so. Not my cup of tea."
"Oh, come on. What else are you gonna do? Hide with a book? A paper even? Or zap through the hotel's porn collection?"
I felt the blood rise to my cheeks and just hoped she wouldn't notice or blame it on the heat after the air condition's arctic blast. Because that was exactly what I had planned. Was I that easy to read or had she just been toying with the cliche of the lonely geek in a hotel room?
Besides, the unaccustomed camaraderie did catch me off guard.
"The reading part sounds about right."
"Tell you what. At least come along for dinner. After all, the company has paid for it. Not much point wasting one dinner just to pay for another one, right?"
As little as I fancied going to events like that her logic was difficult to deny. Though I didn't particularly like buffets either.
"Yeah, ok, guess you're right" I agreed grumpy.
"I know," she beamed at me. "Tell you what, I'm going to pick you up half seven. Put on something sexy."
With these words, she turned to the toilets and within seconds the throng of people had separated us.
--
This was a stupid idea. I really didn't fancy the final ball with its stupid tourist games. I didn't particularly fancy the buffet either. Why had I said ok?
The next hour went slowly. Very slowly. I tried to read. I tried listening to music. I even tried tv. Time did not pass.
By seven I decided I could as well get ready. I usually didn't particularly care whether I was dressed appropriately or not. I could do morning suit as well as punk, and I did if fancy took me.
She had asked for sexy. Sexy was, what she was getting. Or my interpretation, at least.
I always travel with some sexy stuff, including a couple of ropes and a cock ring, or something like that. Not to forget my teddy bear. Not sexy, but very cute. And a good help for lonely nights, because that is what nights away from home used to be. And sexy stuff was for my personal and teddies entertainment. I wouldn't have been the first time I had worn some of that stuff in public without anybody the wiser.
This night it was nothing fancy, just a black see-through string tanga. Above a pair of tight, black jeans, showing off my arse to best advantage.
Yes, I am male. No, I am not gay, though I have had my offers over time. No problem with that. Just not the way I do swing. But I do know I got a great arse. I also know a lot of women do appreciate a nice male arse as much as a gay.
