It felt like an involuntary movement as my finger pressed down on the send button. It may have been my husband's continuous encouragement, or my new found curiosity that drove me to send it. I was initially frozen with fear as the shadowy figure we just met on a dating site admitted to knowing us. I had no clue who he was, but he surely knew us. My husband's fetish on having other men flirt with me was chipping away at my moral restraint, but I wasn't planning on playing this erotic game so close to home. I had considered many times what it would be like having the comforts of another man, but my fears kept me placid until now.
The image of the man previously on my screen was buff and sculpted. He had to be someone far younger then myself, and very possibly someone my husband taught in school recently. This accidental confession included a catalog of my most explicit pictures that were now in the hands of a person that lived in our small town, and was now capable of doing untold damage to our reputations. The feelings of danger were mixing with my feeling of erotic intoxication. My thoughts went back and forth, but even as my husband was told to write him and beg for his discretion my need for clarification took over.
I went to the bathroom as he wrote an email to the shadowed figure, and ran the shower. As I showered he was to plead for his understanding, and to explain what had happened was only part of a married couple's erotic adventure. After undressing and turning on the shower I sat on a stool; I felt dizzy with the anxiety filling my mind. I thought to cry, but instead found myself reaching for my phone. I check my mail so often that it was the first thing I seen on my screen as I slide the unlocking bar. I still remembered his email address from earlier, and without deliberation it was the first thing I added to the new message I started. I wrote several opening sentences, and each time I deleted my pleas for discretion. My pleas started with me asking for him to delete my pictures, but then later attempts changed to him keeping them discrete for himself. I considered writing how I was mad that he didn't initially tell us where he lived, but then realized we were also lying about our home town's location.
As I sat trying to type words that would stick to the screen of my phone I began to day dream. The man my husband led me to bare all was everything I secretly denied myself. He was young, muscled, and very dangerous. I always wanted to protect my husband from the scrutiny of our guilty pleasures, but images of how I might be affecting him dominated my mind. I wanted this problem to all go away, but it was now out of my control. The appeal of this unknown figure being the beautifully dangerous man I was encouraged to fantasy about was growing in my mind.
The uncertainty of not knowing what he truly thought of me, and what he might do to our reputations was a heavy burden. I rejected dozens of suggestions that my husband made to create a relationship similar to this, but I never felt this fever before. The thoughts of him damaging our marriage, and how I might look desirable were battling figures of my conscience. It was then that my finger finally lowered onto the send button. I might have thought it was a mistake, but my urges to follow through on my growing fantasy might have taken over. I feared what encouraging contact would do, but I had to know what he was thinking. I forced myself to ask him, "Do you secretly still want to be with a married woman knowing it's me?"
The guilt and suspense of what I helped maintain sent a rushing of blood to my head, and my female parts. I should have had much more control after already climaxing twice, but the provoking thoughts of what I was doing drove my hand to touch myself. I read my email to him one last time before placing the phone down and stepping into the shower. I had one hand on the wall, and one leg up on the side of the tub. I removed the shower head and placed it so it was coursing towards my pleasure zones. The thoughts of him stroking himself to my pictures, and wanting me for himself pushed all other thoughts from my mind. I felt my breast as I let out a low moan originating from the feeling building between my legs. "What if he wants me," I whispered.
"BEEP"
My phone just received an email. I quickly returned the shower head to its position, and raced to get my phone. I placed one foot from the shower, and kept one hand holding onto the rod. My heart raced with anticipation on how he responded to my question, and I felt fear thinking that it might have been possible that my husband could hear the sounds of my solo activities with my incoming mail. I picked the phone up while dripping on the floor, and with a wet hand I navigated to my most recent message.
"Yes. It's no secret I want to be with you, and I like that your married. I want to see you," the letter wrote. I read the email several times, and each time wanting it to say more than it did.
As old fears disappeared, new fears arrived. "He does want me. What will he do if I turn him down," I gasped. I knew I was overtaken with urges only discussed in fantasy, but I could not stop myself. I wanted to know who he was, but feared leading him on while he was in possession of so many of my private pictures. I didn't want to meet him alone, but I had to see who he was. I quickly thought of a solution and wrote without a second thought.
"Come to my business tomorrow afternoon around 1pm. My husband will be there and all of the other workers will be gone for the afternoon. Please do not tell my husband I invited you, or that you're the guy that met us online. I would like to meet you safely with no pressure," I wrote. As I sent my second deceptive email I again felt nothing but the satisfaction of being desired. I stepped back into the shower, and this time I used my fingers to massage my aching loins. My thoughts returned to meeting this man, and my new found desirability. The safety of having my husband being there will protect me and my virtue, because I knew it was best not to tempt the fates. As I began to cum an imaginary body replaced my fingers, and it was my voice calling it forward. "Take me, oh please take me now," I whispered with each climaxing pulse.
I finished in the shower and dried off; I then went to the bedroom wrapped in a towel. My husband was already lying in bed waiting for me with his night light on, and his ipad in his hand. "I sent him the email requesting him to be respectful," he said with a reassuring tone.
I dropped my towel and slide into bed beside him, and then looked at this ipad screen. He had the email he had sent to the mysterious man on his screen. It asked for us all to be adults, and for him to honor our discretion. It was asking for him to delete the pictures sent, and for him to understand this was all part of a fantasy we liked to play. The email was in contrast to what I just wrote, and I feared how the two different messages would cause him to react.
Then my husband scrolled down his screen and revealed his response. I felt a tightening in my chest as I started to read his response. "Your secrets and fantasies are safe with me, and I hope you can trust me enough to play with those fantasies again. I will not contact you again unless you contact me first. I would like to keep Rachel's pictures, but they are for my eyes only," he wrote.
"It's done," my husband remarked. "All we can do is trust that this person enjoyed the show we gave him enough to keep things on the down low. I am sure he isn't interested in being the creep that confesses to lurking on dating sites anyway," he said with a laugh.
