An Affair of Another Color

***************************

Author's notes

This is not a happy story so if that is what you are looking for you should probably look elsewhere.

This deals with the subject of infidelity, it describes the pitfalls and the attraction with equal attention and both in brutal detail. Involves the strain an affair can place on a family.

I'm not writing this pretending to be a pillar of morality, I am just a person.

In any event you have been warned.

***************************

Living two lives can take a toll on a person but this was the choice I made when confronted with diverging paths; I had decided to take both of them. My life had become a shroud of secrecy and deceit. Every lie would lead to another lie until it came naturally but not without some form of repentance. Guilt had become my real partner as no one person now fit the profile. Guilt was the one that was now with me at all times, always on my mind and from whom I could find little respite.

The only time I felt removed from guilt was on my lover's bed. The act of making love to my husband had become increasingly more difficult but it was something I knew I had to do so my lies would not discovered. Before my affair started our love making was not what it used to be but still I wanted to work on it, since the affair I would just spread my legs to get it over with. I never imagined I would find myself in such a vulgar state but I felt powerless to stop it.

I was often taking an inventory of my life. I'm 38 years old and rolling around in bed with a 22 year old engaging in all sorts of carnal activity. Even he annoyed me sometimes as I was becoming increasingly moody to uncontrollable levels. I would often ask why he was wasting his time with me, why he wasn't finding a girlfriend, having a relationship, moving forward with his life. He seemed content to stand still. He would tell me that he loved me but I knew that couldn't be true. Was he prepared to take me with my children? I think not. I know that he couldn't even conceive what that would have meant.

Our relationship was not smooth; it was tumultuous, passionate and intense. We would have heated fights that would often end in a fit of passion wherever he chose to lay me down or for that matter bend me over as was often his preference. It was usually daytime on Sundays when I was supposedly at the gym, the daylight gave our love making a strange character all its own. Sometimes I would get there early so there was still the morning light peaking through the curtains. The light would make me feel even more exposed as I bounced up and down on his ebony sculpted body.

Mark was an attentive and talented lover. He knew how to play on my mood to give me exactly what I needed. Sometimes the sex was slow and sincere, other times it was fast and urgent. Often we would lay in his bed making out in the afterglow of sexual intercourse admitting our love for one another.

I never considered what an affair would make me feel like because up until the point where I was having one I considered it something that other people do. Not stable people from loving homes. I was part of a loving home with two wonderful children. My son, Justin, and I had our problems but not loving one another was not one of them. My love for both my children is so intense that it was what I thought of most each time I tried to break off the affair. My son was now 15 and his sister was 9, I couldn't imagine how it would crush them if they found out or if their parents got a divorce. With that constantly in my mind I was always very careful.

I would always shower before leaving, Mark, my lover's place. I had a good excuse to shower as my Sunday workout at the gym was my cover. We only occasionally went on dates but it wasn't unusual for me to go out with just my girlfriend from time to time so leaving the house a few evenings every now and then wasn't a huge problem. My best friend, Sharon, was always willing to cover for me if needed. When Mark met Sharon she was shocked at my choice of man. Firstly because of his black skin, secondly because of his age and thirdly because of how well she perceived that we got a long. When I told her about all the problems we were having Sharon,who is usually a sage for advice, was really at a loss of what to say.

A few times I went out with his friends too. They were so young and full of life, these outing mostly served as reason for me to feel more guilty for wasting Mark's time. At the same time, I can't deny that being in that crowd made me feel some of their exuberance. They never called attention to my age, they just treated me like Mark's girlfriend making it more obvious that this was just what I was.

Mark loved for me to dress sexy for him and I loved to indulge him this pleasure. He taught me how to do a strip dance for him and the slow seduction of the dance drove me wild as he watched from his wooden chair. I loved the lusty look in his eyes as he shamelessly looked at my body from head to toe.

I knew that I am too old to dance in a club and in reality I wouldn't even if I could but I still liked learning the moves. Mark was always encouraging me, the moves exposed me in ways that ballet never could. I would go to my knees slowly, kneel backwards until I would find myself back to the floor with my legs spread wide open. Keeping my distance at first, teasing, until finally finishing in a lap dance in just my underwear. I had done ballet since I was small and kept with it right through my early 20's. I often talked about it, that's why Mark suggested I danced for him and it was something I really enjoyed.

With this in mind I started picking underwear carefully at the store. I went from buying my first real lingerie earlier in the year to having half a dozen pieces. I started with the little black pair with the satin lace to having different colors of silk and satin. I now had a baby blue pair that was transparent for half of the front. I had my valentine red pair that I matched with a pair of red high heels. A white lacy pair that Mark told me looked like I should wear on a wedding night. Also a few other skimpy pairs even including a few g-strings.

Wearing the underwear would make me feel sexy. My husband would tease me about a mid-life crisis and while that did hurt my feelings I was able to brush it off; I knew that somebody found me sexy. Whether or not I would feel sexy was something that changed almost as quickly as the weather. Every now and then I would wake up feeling sexy and even wear a g-string to work. Other days I would look at myself in the mirror and feel an uneasy feeling that an old woman was staring back at me.

Most of my friends tell me that I'm lucky that I have aged so well. I know that that is something that us almost 40 (ugh I hate that number) say to each other but sometimes I really believe it. My hair is brown and long, while the color has dulled a bit with the odd gray I haven't decided to cut it yet. I've always had long hair and I love the way mine curls at the bottom. I know that a lot of middle aged women cut their hair but I'm still hoping that middle age doesn't come for me until I'm 50:) I have brown eyes that at one time I would cover with glasses but since I was in university contact lens have become more common for me, although I often wear my glasses to work. I have a slight frame but I'm not short, I'm 5'7" and have long legs. My legs have always been my main attraction and since my early 20's I have liked to show them off. While my age does demand modesty to maintain a bit of class I like to wear a short sundress when I have the chance from time to time.

My son was moody before my affair started but once it was in full force I began to internalize his moods as something wrong with me. I began to think of all the failures that I may have had as a parent and I would dwell on them; the guilt was almost too much to bare.It's not that my son is a complete mope, he plays hockey, has friends and does ok in school I guess. It's just that he gets into moods and I know that from myself that I have been prone to depression and it makes me sick to think that maybe I passed that on. As a parent you only want to pass on the good things about your personality, I wanted to pass on my work ethic, my friendliness and most of all my smile. Instead it seems that I have passed on fits of depression.

Depression is something hard to break even if you face it head on like I learned to do. I had a lot of built up depression from when I was in high school. I was pretty nerdy then, I wore glasses, was in the math club, a ballet dancer and pretty much had a stick for a body. Some of the other girls picked on me, it was pretty bad at times. I still had never broken free of its clutches. Why else would I find myself on the bed of a man almost half my age once a week? It had to be depression, it had snuck up on me again and had me acting like a different person, the person that I don't know and who only wants to fill a void by causing me harm.

With all this in mind my son took up a lot of my thoughts, I had even discussed it with Mark until he was sick of hearing about it. I wanted so badly to help him but any gesture I made was met with hostility always usually ending with more bad feelings. It didn't matter matter how I approached the subject. I tried to get my husband to do something but his answers were always the same: something along the lines that mothers and sons have strange relationships sometimes and that I would just need to be patient and things would work out. It's never been my experience that things just work out, you have to make them work out has always been my belief.

As the school year wore on Justin was having problems with grade 10, I guess I didn't pass my skill of math on to him either. I made it a point that I would tutor him on the weekends and we would go through his lessons of the week and prepare for the next one. This was something that he hated to no end and he sulked his way through it. It also interfered with my secret life as I would have to cut my Sunday interludes short on many occasions, often angering Mark and in turn upsetting me.

It was in this uneasy state that Justin and I had our biggest fight that we ever had. He was doing his typical sulk and looking at the ground or his pencil while slumped over and fidgeting in his chair. Really giving me attitude and I wasn't going to put up with it this time and demanded that he sit up straight. After receiving several negative responses I lost it and turned into a crazy woman. I was screeching at him at the top of my lungs, telling him that he was going to listen to me. I was worked into such a frenzy that my husband knew that it was not a good time to intervene. And that's when he said it.

"Why don't you just fuck off you fucking bitch!" were the words out of my one time baby's mouth.

My voice broke on the spot and I was unable to finish my words. I began to cry uncontrollably, my legs would no longer hold me and I had nothing to say. I'm not sure how long it took but it probably was only seconds, his father entered the kitchen. He used most of his restraint to not throw him through the wall. Justin for his part was frozen in horrified shock at what he had said. The expression on his face seemed to say that he could never be in enough trouble for as bad as he felt.

He was almost flung to his room as what we needed most was space from him to sort this out. I hadn't even begun to think of a punishment when my husband asked me what we were going to do. I couldn't even think about that question as all I could think about was that my son hated me. I didn't feel like I had a reason to live anymore and I didn't care what was done to him.

One thing that I was sure of was that my affair would be over. It was causing me to be emotionally unstable and it was a selfish dalliance. I had to end it and I knew that a text message wouldn't work and I was going to end it that night. I told my husband that I needed to get some space and think; there was not one bit of protest as I got the keys and went driving. I knew where I was going but the drive over felt mechanical in a strange way.

I drove down the narrow alleyway that led to the parking spot behind his house. The alleyway that I had once scraped the side of my car on but those months before now seemed like such a long time. I felt changed and I wanted to somehow change back, I wanted to somehow save my family.

Mark was not home when I got there but I had sent him a text message and he knew that I was coming over; he would be there soon. I sat at the bottom of the steps and thought of all the things I would say, maybe I wouldn't even have to go in I said to myself. It started to rain and I went to get shelter inside the covered stairway that led to his second story apartment, I was getting closer to the entrance and felt that going in was inevitable at that point. My will power had been broken down and I was in an emotional state but I was here to restore my will power so that is what I had to do.

Break-ups are always hard, even as it turns out when it involves an illicit affair. I went through the typical I can't go on like this speech but this wasn't the first time I took the podium to announce that. This time I was determined to make it different and I stood my ground and said what I had to say. The normal paces weren't being taken this time; instead we sat and had some tea in his kitchen like the first time we consummated. In a reserved way I made my heart felt good bye and thanked him for the times we had together reminding him that we both knew it would have to end like this.

When I made it out the door the rain was beating down on the covering that led from his front door to the parking spot. The area was very cramped and I stood at the top of the stairs to exhale and catch my breath. As I was doing this Mark stepped out of his house and grabbed me from behind. A struggle then ensued.

"It's over!" I told him as he moved his hands forcefully around my body.

"Tell me what you want." He whispered into my ear as there was no space between us.

"I want to go home." I whimpered unconvincingly.

"No, tell me want you want, I know what you want." The insistence in his voice could not be ignored. I felt him tugging on my pants as he tried to expose my soul as much as my body.

"I want you to fuck me." I let out as I felt him taking my pants down.

He fucked me on the staircase with my pants barely around my knees. As much as I wanted to resist he had long ago broken my will power. The cold rain continued the pound on the roof and it muffled my cries of passion. There wasn't much room to move in the narrow staircase as he held me close and humped with increasing urgency. I felt extreme disappointment with myself and it mixed with my shame but my body wasn't listening to my mind as the intense show of affection was filling my void.

He held my hair with his fist and pulled, something he knew that I liked, it felt like I was some sort of prize he had dragged back from a hunt. My body was crumpled into the small corner where the wall met his door. His thrusts were deliberate and sincere. The screen door banged and shook on his hinges adding to the noise of the copulating figures at the top of the stairs.

Mark had one hand under my shirt massaging my nipple and the other reached around my hip until it found my clit. My orgasm hit with a resigned feeling of shame and pleasure as the two unlikely partners continued to reign havoc on my body. It didn't take long after that before he was filling another void sort of speak, a much more physical void, he was cumming inside of me. I had asked him not to cum inside of me after he had done it once before, we usually used condoms, but this time I felt

no desire to protest; I understood on a primal level what he was doing.

We broke our physical connection as he withdrew his penis from my opening. I fumbled through my purse for some tissue to wipe up the mess. I pressed the tissue on my vagina and then pulled my panties up to cover my sex. They were the sexy valentine red ones that I had worn earlier in the day for our morning meeting. With the tissue and panties in place I pulled my pants up and remorsefully said good-bye. I walked down the steps without turning back.

I drove around for a while feeling isolated in my car. The intensity of the rain had relented but it still drizzled through the darkened sky. I told myself that I would never go back there and that it was over. I hadn't ended it in the most convincing fashion, no, but in my mind I had ended it. I wanted to get home to my family ready to accept the new me; the middle aged me. I believe that my husband was right when he kidded me about having a mid-life crisis, he just doesn't know how right it was.

When I got home my hair was slightly wet from having been in the rain briefly, but worse my pants were a bit wet from the activities of my encounter. My husband met me at the door and seemed very concerned about my state of mind. I told him that I was fine, that I just need to lay down. We could discuss what to do about Justin later.

Before bed I first went to the washroom to remove the tissue and clean up any other evidence. I flushed the tissue down the toilet and went into the shower to clean myself up. I took the panties and put them in the middle of the laundry, I inspected them and there didn't seem to be any obvious signs of cum on them, not that it really mattered as I was the only one who was going to do the laundry anyways. I put on my familiar navy cotton panties and got ready for bed.

In the morning I got up early and left for work before anyone could notice me. I'm guessing that my husband made breakfast that morning for the kids and was at least understanding enough not to send me any messages chastising me for sneaking out.

I wasn't having the easiest time concentrating at work; I even forgot to pick up some samples from shipping; being that they are time and temperature sensitive I ruined the entire batch. I don't really work in an environment where I am closely supervised so when my supervisor asked me to come to his office I wasn't sure how to act. He wasn't mad at me but he seemed concerned and told me that I hadn't been myself lately. Of course, he was right but I wasn't about to confide the reasons as to why. My job was never in question as I am a valued member of the team but the fact that he took notice was enough to make me shake my head.

When I arrived home my son was ready to apologize and his words trembled as he did do. He knew that he was in a lot of trouble but I was still having problems with his apology I just wasn't ready for it. Maybe I wanted him to feel worse about what he said. I don't care what I have done or how guilty I feel he doesn't have the right to talk to me like that. We avoided each other for the next two days until I was ready to make peace. I gathered myself and took him to his hockey game that night, his dad was going to, but I told him that I would be taking him as usual. I didn't want this incident to push me any further out of his life; I still loved my baby boy more than anything in the world.

As the weekend approached I made a clear statement of willpower that I would not go and see Mark. Mark sent me a text asking what time I would be over but I made it clear this time that I was not coming and didn't answer the rest of the texts. I was going to spend this weekend at home with no expectations from anyone.

The first thing on my list was the laundry, and I was going to do it Saturday morning. I got my husband to take Lisa to her gymnastics lesson; I had to avoid Mark completely for at least a little while until he took the hint.

I started to sort the laundry as I put some in the machine that was already being filled with water. I like to do the dark loads first as it usually has more things that I have to hang to dry. Mostly I will separate Justin's and mine together as we are the ones most picky about things not going into the dryer, then I move to my husband's and daughter's. Laundry if done all at once can be a daylong task, I usually do a few loads during the week but this time I had let it pile up.