This story needs to be read all the way through. If you don't like the thought of strong, unfaithful women, then this ain't for you. If you want a little insight into how some, not all women think, then read on. Oh, and if you meet me, it might be worth trying it on. Just don't fall in love ok?
I knew I was being played.
From the very first minute he began talking to me while I was out in the park with my young son, I knew it.
You see, I'm pretty, one of those yummy mummies you hear so much about. Mid 30's, great figure still, what with all of the classes I go to while my darling is at school; nice dress sense, decent car, make-up and hair up to scratch despite the 'pressures' of motherhood, thanks to the husband who seems prepared to work himself to an early grave to keep us all the way I would like.
I laugh at those women who say this is hard. Okay, so a short run of tedium during pregnancy and for a year or two thereafter is pretty crap, but thereafter, so long as the bills get paid and you can do the whole mother thing, what a breeze. I don't let on to him that it is so easy, but I've been up that slippery corporate ladder and that really does suck the big one and for decades. I'll take motherhood!
It sounds cynical of me, but it is a life I 'designed'. Marry well enough to ensure that the tiresome issue of work never really worries me, and so long as he keeps bringing home the bacon, I'll keep the house nice and not bother him too much with having to involve himself with family duties. It sort of works...
The truth is though I miss it, the cut and thrust of the relationship, the edge, the battle, the thrill. I know in my own mind I have him so fully loaded with shit he has to deal with that when I do occasionally whine on that we should do more stuff together, it really is not within his remit to do it. He is too worn out, too under pressure, too mindful of tomorrow that he can't cope with another thing on his plate.
And so this is how I ended up here, in bed on a Wednesday afternoon, with this gorgeous older man who has just finished plowing my faithless cunt with the biggest cock I have ever had. And thank Christ for Viagra, because he is so stiff again already and well, we have been together for a month now so I'm thinking of a special treat to round of the afternoon for him.
Back to the beginning - the park, yes. He was obviously making a bee-line for me as his grand-daughter began to play with my son of about the same age. Yes, his grand-daughter. You see, Paul is 55 years old, two decades older than me. He's looked after himself both physically (think older Clooney) and financially (millions for sure) and now in retirement is enjoying the fruits of a very lucrative career and some pretty large investments and the time to enjoy them.
Sure, he has a wife -- she was there the first time we met - a quiet shrew of a woman, totally anonymous and totally in his shadow, but happy to be there. I haven't asked, but during all of that time working abroad, I'd wager that he has sampled plenty of pussy that wasn't married to him. I would also suspect that she knows it and just puts up and shuts up. It is really almost the same deal I have made with my husband.
Mind you, with that gorgeous 8" uncut cock to enjoy, even just periodically, as well as a liberal access to his bank account, I think I'd have taken that deal. These women with high moral values sometimes really do miss the point. So long as he is not shitting on his own doorstep or bringing it home, really the 'out of sight out of mind' maxim holds true for me. And of course, what's good for the goose is good for the gander...
Mind, I've a few gal pals who have strayed. The trouble is they almost all fall in love when they do. 'Love is a fallacy, lust is a must' should be their motto, but no, they suck cock and start dreaming of a life that might somehow be better. They feel the need to divest themselves of the guilt by telling people -- bloody idiots. Suck the cock, have the fun and go back home to the family. They are separate. Happy means having both for me.
You see, this is not my first affair. Actually I don't like the affair word. For me, at least now, it is just cock and a cuddle. I digress (again) -- the first was a guy called Jason. I nearly made the classic gal pal error. Flattered by the attention, he wanted me all of the time. He was handsome, a retired footballer but still only 30. He fucked me daft just as the spark in bed had started to extinguish with my husband, just as I began to feel broody, just as I was vulnerable.
It went on for about three months but I was all over the place emotionally. My husband got the rough end of all of it, the poor fella. He didn't have a clue. And then I nearly let it slip what was going on, first to my Mum, then to him. I used the words 'soul mate' and he went quiet. I think he knew then I wasn't being straight with him.
I expected him to explode, like I always did when I so much as imagined him flirting with another woman. But no, he went quieter, almost stone cold. He is a smart guy my husband, but not a great talker -- I say not great, more that he doesn't talk a lot, but when he does, it almost always is worth listening to. He just looked me straight in the eye and demanded I tell him if there was someone else. Of course I denied it. I tried to turn it back on him but he was having none of it.
He came at me again and now began to list the strange behaviour I had been exhibiting and times I couldn't account for where I had been. Like I say, he is smart. He was also clearly at the end of his tether. At that stage I 'fessed up.
Of course I admitted to being hit on, sort of explained how it had come about, slightly shortened the timescale and told how much it had been a relief to have someone to talk to over coffee and lunch.
What I didn't mention was being taken back to his mate's dockside flat in the middle of the day and fucked like some cheap whore on the spare bed there. I didn't mention going clubbing in town and blowing him off down back alleys for a thrill. And I certainly didn't mention doing all of this bareback in the hope of trying to get pregnant by one of the men in my life.
After the first few weeks with Jason I had started to get quite brazen about it. I didn't mind going to bars where I knew my friends might be. I started to text and telephone at weird times of the day and night. I used to let him cum inside me time and again and then come home with my pussy full of another man's sperm. I would sit on the sofa and chat to my husband and feel it dribbling into my knickers. What a slut.