Hey Angel
By Jay Cameron with input from Angel
If you haven't guessed yet, my name is Angel. An Angel I am not. But you already should have figured that out.
At this point in my life, I'm obsessed with participating in just about any form of sex. I would tell you I am a hot sexy blonde, but the truth be known, I have changed the color of my hair more times than I can remember. My life started as a brunette, and when I woke up this morning, I had a redhead looking back at me from the bathroom mirror.
Before we get too far along, let me tell you I am a thirty-six-year-old hottie. You read that right. I am a hottie.... a hot wife.... a slut .... a sexually free spirit... a real mom with store-bought boobs, and a mom that loves the feel of a real man pressing his body against mine. But that's just the beginning, the feel of a man paying homage to my body is the most exciting, thrilling and stimulating thing any woman can experience.
I didn't know the danger of being caught cheating on one's husband could be so exhilarating and exciting. The endorphins seem to never stop firing. Now, I don't worry much about being caught. I think I want my husband to catch me with another man. Is my husband too dumb? Maybe, but I think he is too busy doing the same thing.
An interesting thing I discovered early on; after a while you don't care about being caught. You just want to see how much you can push the envelope. You want to feel a pair of lips pushing at your lips. An excited tongue working its magic on your clit. A strange man, whose goal is only to feel you surrender to his hard work.
My lovers want to please me more than my own husband. Their ego, their superiority to all other men has to be proven every time their dick sees the light of day. They want to know how far I will go to please them. I only want to go all the way. Especially when the main man in your life decides his life is more important than yours, or he forgets you even exist.
In the movies, the obedient wife is reading a book in bed, and the husband breaks the silence with the question. "Are you in the mood?"
That's when the fun begins. She puts the book aside and waits patiently for the assault. (Come on guys, you know it's an assault.) He gets his rocks off, she fakes an orgasm, and both admit they should do it more often. The wife wonders if it was worth the effort to stop reading her book. Both parties roll over and go to sleep.
It's important for you to also understand, I was a faithful wife to my husband and family for the first fourteen years of a sixteen-year marriage. I really thought I was doing all the right things in my marriage. I was convinced I had the perfect marriage, and my husband worshipped me and the pedestal I stood on. You know, the pedestal that runs from the stove to the washer-dryer to the grocery store. That's the same pedestal that reaches all the way to the bed. It's quite depressing when you realize the words "thank you" or "I love you" don't have a place in your husband's vocabulary. That pedestal gets smaller and smaller, and finally it doesn't exist at all.
Let me take you back to the beginning. I met my husband "the Asshole" during our final year at college. He was a baseball player, and my father was his coach. Dad invited him to dinner one evening, and that was all that was needed. We had sex on our first official date a week later, in his car. I was knocked-up and married two months after that.
If you have any doubts about how the first several years of our marriage went.... don't. He was the best dad a son, and later a daughter could ever want. He had a good job and provided a comfortable life for me, my children, along with various dogs, cats and fish. In fact, he didn't get the name "Asshole" till recently.
We were very active in our community. I was the wife on all the committees. He was the guy that kept the cooler filled with beer and insisted on hosting poker night at least once a month.
Like I said before, the first fourteen years were great. But one day I opened my eyes and saw the real world I was living in.
It wasn't morning when I woke up to see the truth. It was an afternoon when I discovered my husband was "the Asshole."
I had just returned from the grocery store on Friday afternoon and was lugging three full bags of groceries into the kitchen. My daughter was where she was supposed to be, sitting at the bar doing her homework.
Not seeing my son, I ask his sister.... "where's JR?"
For some reason she didn't want to say, but with the power of a mother, I was able to get her to tell me the whereabouts of her brother. "He's in the treehouse."
"Has he already done his homework?"
She looked away. "Mommy, he's been in a fight."
"What?... where is he?"
Still not wanting to look at me.... "I told you.... he's in the treehouse." There was a pause, "mom, he's been in a fight, and he doesn't want to talk to you because he's afraid."
"Why would JR be afraid to tell me what's wrong?"
I didn't wait for an answer. I was out the door and climbing hand over hand to get to my son in the kid's treehouse.
As I got to the top and was able to pull myself onto the wooden hideaway for our kids, I noticed my son with a piece of toilet paper in his nose. As any mom would do, I panicked! A quick look and I could tell he had a broken nose.
"We have to get you to the Emergency room right away."
"It'll be okay mom, believe me I'm just fine."
"No, you're not.... get moving. You don't want to be the only boy in school with a nose that goes in two directions."
His face filled with shock and seconds later he went down the ladder and headed to the garage. His mom had to take a little more time.
When the car turned onto the street from the driveway was the first time I asked, "what happened?" That's when I noticed the knuckles on both hands were scraped and slightly swollen. Now, I had to rethink my line of questioning. "JR what the hell is going on with you? You don't fight with other kids. This looks like you tangled with a bunch of guys. What's going on that I need to know?"
"It's nothing mom.... really not important."
Like I'm going to settle for that shit. "We're going to get you fixed up and then you are going to tell me everything.... I do mean everything." And then I hit him with the coup de gras. "Then you can tell your father."
That brought out the first sign of emotion. His head turned to me so fast a piece of toilet paper popped out of his nose. "No mom.... we can't let dad know anything."
"Well, you're going to have a lot of fun trying to hide two black eyes and bandaged hands from your father for the next few days."
"Mom, please...... don't make me. I can't tell you what happened." He began crying.
"Let's get you fixed up first... then we can talk." I turned my attention back to the street and soon I was watching tears run down his face from a Nurse Practitioner straightening his nose.
Once he was discharged, he looked like he had been in a fight... and lost. His eyes were already black and blue, and his knuckles were covered in a handful of Disney character Band-Aids. This was going to be rough trying to keep it from his father.
Once we were back in the car, I didn't start the engine. I waited till he was seated, buckled in and then I turned to my son and said, "What happened? ... and if you think you are going to get away with some lie or some cockamamy bull; forget it. We are not moving till you tell me the whole story."
"Mom I can't.... If I tell you, all of this would have been for nothing," holding his hands up for me to see.
The conversation in that car went back and forth till I was finally convinced my son was not going to let me in on the facts of the fight. I picked up my phone and said, "Hey Siri... call husband." That was all it took.
"No....no....no... Mom, please don't call dad."
"Why not? he's going to find out anyway."
The look on my son's face told the whole story. "Dad's the reason for the fight."
I could see the defeat on his face, and the tears welling up in his eyes. There was something very serious about what he was about to say. I sat back in my seat and waited.
