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.