"Are you cheating on me?" were the first words from a disturbed husband when I got home.
I had thought about what to say, but I still didn't know. Of course I flatly denied it. I told him that work was really driving me crazy and that I walked to a co-workers house to vent. I've been with a friend, a girlfriend.
She was a girlfriend, I told him I'd take him to her house. He half accepted it, if only because I was so convincing.
"If you need, you know, need that feeling, it's okay," he looked down dejected. "I just need to know."
I didn't know what he was saying. Was telling me it was okay to cheat? Why would he want to know? If he was cheating on me and I knew I'd kill him. My mind was reeling.
We had a long talk where he professed how he knew I was upset about certain aspects of our lovemaking. I assured him that I was not upset about any aspect of our lovemaking, even though I was.
I wanted him inside of me so bad. I wanted thirty minute marathon session, and he could barely sprint if and when he could run at all. I was frustrated more than upset.
"It's okay, we just need to make some rules," he worked up the courage to say. "I want to be there, and we can't know him."
Him. Little did my husband know that it was "her" he had really wanted to know.
Slowly, as he talked more about the "rules" the idea was taking hold in my head. He was offering me a chance to have sex with another man. I was both scared beyond belief and soaking with sex at the mere thought of it.
What would it be like having a man other than my husband? Would he be different? More rough or more gentle? Bigger or smaller?
"Honey," I mustered, "it's okay, I love what we have."
I reached out my hands and rubbed his legs reassuringly, then gave him a hug, before moving closer, kissing him passionately and moving off to the bedroom.
Between the three hours with Sandy and the hour long talk about me sleeping with another man, I was mad with lust. I through him to the bed and stripped him down to his panties. His cock was pointed straight up and rigid, tight against the pink silk.
I stripped off my pants, panties and all and spread my legs over his hips. I could feel this heat of his shaft so close to me, I couldn't resist him.
I slid the panties to the side, springing his cock free, and quickly pushed it towards my wanting lips. I felt him shudder and jerk as he found my opening and thrust himself inside, my juices dripping between us.
I slowly thrust my hips up and down on him, the feeling of his shaft inside of me, filling me with his heat, pulling me gently apart, was incredible. I pulled my shirt over my head and bent over to kiss him, his cock moving slowly in and out against my wet lips.
"You feel so good," I moaned as I started licking his throat, his ears and cheeks.
I felt him stiffen inside of me as he grasped my shoulders tight, pushing me hard against him. I writhed my hips, squeezed him inside of me, his seed filling me with warmth. I held on to his shaft, squeezing everything I could out, I didn't want to let him go.
I held him there while he went completely soft, kissing him gently, loving him. It had been so long that I didn't want to let him out.
"Did you," he asked without finishing the sentence.
I smiled. I shook my head no, but I really didn't care.
He slowly slid down between my legs and despite my protesting, spread them and then, with a tentative motion, slid his tongue gently against my inner lips.
I felt my body shuddering almost immediately. His tongue slowly exploring me, sliding in and out of me, up and down. I grabbed for something, anything, as his fingers joined in, his tongue and fingers sliding in the mixture of our two juices sent me into an orgasmic explosion that lasted until finally, exhausted, I fell back into the bed, his mouth lingering between my legs.
The next morning I woke up early and made breakfast, cleaned the kitchen and started a load of laundry. I know it sounds silly, or cliché, but I felt like a woman again. It felt good. It felt right.
I could still feel him inside of me, still feel the warmth of his shaft driving deep within me and I wanted it again and again.
We tried again over the next couple of weeks, but to no avail. I was getting frustrated with him and he could tell. I found myself taking a lot more walks and spending a lot less evenings at home.
For her part, Sandy was getting frustrated with me. She wanted to spend more time with me, for me to spend the night, to go on dates. To be partners, not just lovers. She wanted me to leave my husband, to be with her.
I thought about all of this in one of my reflective moods. Here I was now, a year into a crazy time with my husband trying to juggle an affair and a crazy hard job. I was on the verge of a breakdown and the people I would have counted on to help me through it were causing the breakdown.
I felt alone.
I thought about all the solutions. I didn't see myself with Sandy forever. I loved her dearly but it felt like an infatuation, an illusion of love, masked with incredible lust. I was sure she'd feel the same way soon and we'd both drift apart.
My husband. I couldn't just leave him. I made a vow, and, while things have been better and worse, he's done nothing wrong. I have. I was the one who made the mistakes. I was the one who drove the bus into this wreck, not him.
I was paralyzed and so I did nothing. Everything stayed the same. No one was happy.
"I've thought about it again," my husband explained at dinner one night, "and I put an ad on the Internet. I figure if I'm with you it's safe."
I was dumbfounded. I had never said yes, or even hinted at yes, and now he was moving forward. I protested but he got down on his knees at my side.
"I want this for you," he held my hand "I've had other women, you haven't. Oh you know what I mean."
I let out an uncomfortable laugh which he took as a yes.
"I had several responses," he tugged on my hand, "want to see?"
We looked through the emails at his computer. There were a couple of men that were drop dead, but I tried no to let on that I liked any of them. I was scared. I wasn't even sure I could go through with it, and I told him such, but he kept on.
"I kind of think you'll like this guy," he pulled up an email with a picture of a very young brown haired man, boy really. "He's a graduate student and he said he's very interested after seeing your photo."
He sent my photo out to a stranger? I didn't know what to think. I was both angry and excited that someone, somewhere was looking at a picture of me and thinking sexy thoughts.
"Can I contact him? Tell him it's okay?" my husband snapped me out of my daydream.
Looking at his picture, I started thinking about what he'd look like next to me, how he'd feel, smell and slowly I nodded yes.
Waiting was terrible. I wish he would have just come over that very moment and we could have gotten over with, but it was two weeks before our schedules met. For those two weeks I was insatiable. I would go to Sandy's for two or three hours then come home and be with my husband at least as long. I'd touch myself in the bathroom, at my desk, nothing was enough. I was electric.
Finally the Gabe came to our house for dinner.
My husband made some of his best dishes and served the two of us before retiring to his office. I felt so weird sitting across from a stranger having small talk. I found myself listening less and less to his conversation and thinking more and more about our future lovemaking. His looks were distractingly cute, if not beautiful. His personality was wonderful, happy.
We finished dessert moved on to the living room.
I had no idea how to proceed. It was all very awkward. Did I just start kissing him? Do we sit and talk for a while and slowly kiss him? Does he kiss me? I hoped he would just kiss me and we could rip each others clothes off.
He didn't.
