It's Only Sex
It was only sex, I told myself after my husband's partner asked me if I would ever consider an affair. It wasn't love. I knew I was kidding myself, but I rationalized it thoroughly, deciding I would not be violating my oath because I still loved my husband and was dedicated to the marriage. If I could involve myself in recreation that he didn't, couldn't I enjoy something he no longer did. He was simply too busy for something so unimportant, so trivial as sexual intercourse.
I still yearn for it. Isn't his denying me part of that pledge? Didn't he have some responsibility to hold up his end? He is a good provider, in most ways a good husband, and has given me all I could asked for except that one thing I miss so terribly. Sexual intimacy. Before Jake asked me about having an affair I had thought about it, fantasized about the mechanics of going through with it, the bawdy details, the juicy essentials of fucking someone else to give what I hungered for.
I ran through scenarios in my head. Imagined what it would feel like, what I would allow myself to do and what I wouldn't. I pictured different men I knew in bed, thought of what they would like, what they would do well, and what I would want. I imagined what they would look like naked, what their masculine "gifts" would be, how big each was, how I could take them, if he would make me come, which I had not for years.
I haven't been a person to think about sex very often, until I didn't get it anymore, and now I think of it constantly. It is an obsession now, but a funny thing happened after the company hired a new office manager. Her name is Heather and she is gorgeous. She is tall, blond, well-educated, and as sexy as a person can be. Since she was hired, I could think about nothing but her. Somehow I thought that sex with another woman would not be as unforgivable as a married woman having it with a man, but that was not the reason I thought of her so much. She was absolutely the sexiest person I had ever been within arms length of and I wanted to be closer than that.
Heather's smile could make my panties wet with one glance. To smell her perfume in the room would almost bring on an orgasm, which, as I said, I hadn't had for years. Eventually I dreamed of Heather constantly. I had difficulty during the day keeping my mind on work, and finally I told Jake I could never be unfaithful to my husband, all the while thinking of ways to entice Heather into my bed.
I watched her to see signs, to decide whether she would ever agree to be with another woman. I watched her move, loved to watch her glide through a room, see her bend to pick up her purse, or to turn to slide into a car seat. I began to see her nude when I closed my eyes, whether she was around or not.
I had never thought of other women sexually before, but now I thought of them constantly, although it was Heather who took up most of my waking hours. At night I would put my finger between my labia and I would rub over my clitoris with a finger or two in my pussy. I had never called it my pussy until I became obsessed with Heather. Right next to my husband at night I would masturbate to thoughts of Heather and me in passionate, panting sex and long, sensuous orgasms.
I didn't think anyone could tell, but one day Jake asked me outright if I had "thrown him over for Heather." I was flustered and must have been totally inarticulate because I said something like, "What are you talking about? She is another woman. What are you saying about me?" But all the time I am thinking how I should be careful not to let people see how I felt.
Eventually Heather and I were assigned to the same contract. I wondered if Jake, who made the assignments had done it purposely, to see if it would reveal itself. Over the next few weeks Heather and I spent a great deal of time together. I had always thought of myself as heterosexual, never considering anything else, but with Heather around I realized I was at least bisexual because every thought I had of her was strictly carnal and sensual, imagining every position, situation, and love making activity.
My pussy constantly tingled with her in the room, and I would get lightheaded at her touch. Was it less unfaithful to have sex with a woman if you were a married lady? I didn't care. I don't ever remember wanting anything so much in all my life as wanting Heather's lips on mine or her tongue flicking across my pussy lips. When I dreamed of her she always made me come, in fact she nearly made me come by touching my back, which she did often as we stood together at the work table.