Leave Well Enough Alone

I'm one of those guys who hated cheaters. I, Brian, thought that cheating was a sign of total weakness of character and immorality, and it disgusted me; that is until it "happened" to me. It turned out to the best thing that ever did come to pass as far as my relationship with my family was concerned, whether anyone else believes it or not.

****************

It had been an especially bad week in my downwardly spirally life. My wife and kids seemed to be growing distant from me, both of my parents had significant illnesses that might be terminal, I was the lowest producer at work and at least one of my bosses seemed to be on a mission to get me fired, and the dog that I had had since I was a teenager died.

I couldn't figure out my wife Gloria's reaction to me over the last year or so. Virtually every day I tried to have sex with her, and she was declining more and more often so that we were at now at the level of once a week. Plus, it wasn't particularly great when we did fuck; certainly not like our first five years of marriage. I was definitely sexually frustrated. It seemed that my only interaction with Gloria was her complaining about me not helping around the house or playing with the kids.

My kids, Luke, five, and Rose, three, usually seemed glad to see me when I got home, but -- at least according to my perspective, although Gloria says that it was because I planted myself in front of the boob tube -- oftentimes they lost interest in interacting with me, and seemed to significantly prefer Gloria's or their friends' company to mine.

I was selling insurance at a very competitive agency. It was a job that I'd had for two years (after I got fired from my job as an air traffic controller) but didn't seem to be getting any better at. I wasn't meeting my quota, wasn't getting bonuses like most of my co-workers, and seemed to really irritate one of my two bosses, and at least mildly aggravate the other. Gloria worked part-time selling cosmetics in a retail store, but our finances were far from great. We essentially had no savings, and our only saving grace was that the small house that we had purchased four years ago had increased significantly in value and our mortgage was reasonable.

My dad had had prostate cancer for several months, and now my mom had just been diagnosed with breast cancer -- fortunately, supposedly caught at "stage zero" so that with proper treatment she should be OK, but combined with my dad's situation it left me depressed. The last thing that I needed was for the fucking dog, Quincy, to die -- my most constant connection to my youth.

So on a Thursday early afternoon, with my self-confidence in the toilet, and when I should have been stirring up more business to meet my quota, I was in a bar a few blocks from my office. I got a brew from the bar, sat at a back table, and figuratively cried in my beer.

There was no waitress on duty at that low volume time, and only one other patron, a woman who I had just glanced at when passing her while shuffling from the bar to my table.

When it was time for another beer, I moseyed back up to the bar and had the barkeep refill my mug from the tap. As I strolled back to my seat I made eye contact with the woman. Since she was seated I didn't get a real good look at her body -- except that she couldn't hide her seemingly very large tits -- but I did get a good look at her face. She had an olive complexion, dark hair, and nice features, although she was certainly not classically beautiful. She did have haunting eyes that actually looked to be black in color, and a completely forlorn expression on her face. I couldn't really tell how old she was, but I guessed that she was three or four years older than my twenty eight.

"You look as forlorn as I feel, and if you are I really feel sorry for you," I muttered as I passed her. Her eyebrows raised, but she said nothing.

After I returned to my seat I noticed the woman glancing back at me from time to time. After a few minutes passed she got up, went to the bar, and got another drink. I got a good look at her entire body then -- it was really, really fine. She had the aforementioned big chest, a small waist, big hips, a round butt, and really nice legs. After her glass was refilled she surprised me when instead of returning to her table she came to mine. She didn't ask if she could join me but merely sat down.

"So what's your problem, Stud?"

"Sorry if I was too forward it telling you how forlorn you looked," I defensively replied, having been caught off-guard by her directness.

"You were more 'direct' than 'forward,' and to me 'direct' is good. And I do feel like shit -- but I asked you first, what's your problem?"

"I'm not the most open guy in the world -- I'm...uh...well, I'm reticent to open up to anybody."

"I'm a good listener, I don't judge, and I can solve anybody's problems -- except for my own, that is," she quickly responded, the "except for my own" part delivered with what could best be described as somewhere between a cackle and a nervous laugh.

I silently stared into her black eyes for a long time, occasionally glancing at her left hand ring finger which prominently displayed a wedding band and a big honking diamond ring with emerald baguettes.

She stared right back, occasionally taking a sip of her drink, which I concluded was Drambuie, "an odd choice for an afternoon drink in a bar," I thought.

Finally I said "OK," and then proceeded to pour out my heart to this complete stranger.

She let me talk for almost an hour, interrupted only when our glasses were empty and I got up to refill them -- and confirmed that she was drinking Drambuie. She would interject a short comment or ask a probing question every once in a while, and occasionally raised her eyebrows or made a face.

As I droned on I started to notice that she really was a stimulating woman. The way that she flipped her long hair to the side, the method by which she caused her mouth to engage her drink glass, the way that she moved her arms, the manner in which she unconsciously licked her lips or ran a finger over an eyebrow -- they combined to convince me that she was likely the most sultry woman that I had ever seen.

She was also the best listener that I had ever met. Strangely, when I was finished relating my tale of woe, I felt better.

"Thanks for listening," I said when I finally detailed my last problem. "Just telling you what's preying on my mind makes me feel a little better."

She made a point of taking a slow sip of her liqueur. Then she figuratively hit me between the eyes.

"You've got problems, but not the ones you think. The situations you related are only symptomatic of your real problems," she blurted out.

"Say what?" I asked, taken aback.

"Your number one problem is that you look at the glass half empty rather than half full. People don't like to be around pessimists, whether it's in business or personal interactions. Secondly, you have a poor self-image. You don't recognize that you have the inner strength to make yourself anything that you want to be; if you'd just tap it you could successfully deal with all of the manifestations of your problems, and instead of whining about them you'd take action."

Then she paused for effect before she said, "Third, your wife is completely right in telling you that you need to help around the house and pay attention to the kids rather than vegetating in front of the TV."

Then after another pause she got a diabolical smile on her face and concluded with "Fourth, you really need to get laid -- badly!"

I didn't actually fall off of my chair, but I was as shocked as in any conversation in my life. Oddly, although my reaction wasn't positive, it wasn't negative either. Without any attempted sarcasm I replied "Are you a psychologist, or something?"

"Or something," she chortled. "Before I analyze you further, I have a question for you; and I want an honest answer. OK?"

"After your declaration, how could I be anything but honest?" I guffawed.

"Do you find me attractive?"

I paused for a few seconds -- not quite the question that I expected. Finally I responded, "Yeah, I do; I like both your body and your personality -- so far that is, unless you vocalize another dozen or so of my character weaknesses."

"How old do you think that I am?"

"Thirty two," I instantly replied, hoping that my honest opinion wasn't going to insult her.

"Thirty eight," she shot back. "Think that's too old for a guy in his twenties?"

"I think that you could fuck any guy that you wanted to just by giving him a 'come hither' motion with your finger."

She got up from the table, walked toward the left of the bar while shaking her bulbous ass, then stopped about ten feet away. She turned and gave me a "come hither" motion with her right forefinger; her forlorn look had changed to a sexy one.

I was like in a fucking trance as I rose from my seat without conscious thought and started following her, spellbound by her wiggling ass.

The bar that we were in had a men's bathroom, women's bathroom, and a handicap bathroom between them. She stopped at the handicap bathroom and motioned for me to open the door for her. As she walked in she grabbed my arm and pulled me in with her, then closed and locked the door.

"We need to have a nice, animalistic, spontaneous, fuck," she snickered. "It will help you, and is also just what I need."

She then pulled my face down by yanking on my tie, and planted a passionate kiss on me. The surreal situation that was unfolding didn't really give me a chance to think -- I just reacted. And my reaction was just the type that I despised -- I returned her passionate kiss the best that I could.

After a nice juicy lip lock her hands started roaming to my belt and crotch, and mine found her tits -- really hard to miss! I was revealing in the lushness of her upper body and lips when I felt my pants, shortly followed by my boxers, hit the floor. As she grabbed my cock I put my right hand under her skirt and immediately found her heat-radiating pussy, devoid of panties. As she stroked me I finger fucked her.

Her pussy and clit were very sensitive. She broke our kiss after only a few seconds of my finger-fucking and groaned like an old waterwheel. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she moaned as she released my cock and started massaging my balls. I only needed to be asked once since I could feel my raging hard-on draining all the blood from my brain, and any rational thought along with it. I had no idea if this woman was a diseased whore, a plant by my wife, a blackmailer, or a mental patient. My sense of morality and disgust with cheaters never even crossed my so-called mind.

I grabbed both of her thighs, instantly marveling at how toned they were, lifted her up and pinned her against the wall, and moved my cock to the general area of her pussy. She guided it in. I buried myself with one thrust. She let out a scream muffled by her mouth being buried in my shoulder, and started squeezing and releasing my cock with powerful pc muscles. I banged as hard as I could, grunting loudly with each reciprocation, and she continued a muffled scream into my shoulder.

It didn't take long before I shot stream after stream of manly goo into her pulsating cunt, which caused her to shake violently, obviously overtaken by her own climax. Despite my weak knees, I kept pumping long after my last salvo had been deposited, and she continued shaking and spasming until I finally had no energy left.

I gradually lowered her feet to the floor, trying my best not to drop her or collapse myself. When she had her feet on the ground we hugged while groaning for several minutes, and then once again she shocked the hell out of me by dropping to her knees and sucking my cock while manipulating my balls. That was a first in my experience -- I had never before had a woman suck my cock immediately after a fuck -- it was delicious.

When she rose from her knees she kissed me again, and I fervently kissed her back. When she broke our kiss she pulled up my boxers and pants, fastened my belt, and while staring at me with her enchanting black eyes mumbled "Thanks -- I really needed that. It was an all-time fuck for me."

"Holy shit -- thank you. I don't even remember what my problems were," I said before giving her another peck on the lips.

"Let's go back to our table and talk," she said with a sly grin.

I stopped at the bar and got us each another drink as she wobbled back to our table, walking a little bowlegged, which filled me with pride. When I sat next to her rather than across from her as she chugged her drink with her right hand she placed her left hand on my crotch, smiling when she noticed that my cock was three-quarters hard.

"So, stud, if you want to fuck again I need to know your name," she said. When I started to answer she interrupted me with "I don't need your real one, just one that I can refer to you by."

Since Brett Favre was my favorite football player I responded "Brett. What's your fake name?"

"Gina," she said with a smile and a squeeze of my cock. "So Brett, would you like to continue to fuck."

"Since the one we just had was the most physically satisfying of my life, Hell Yeah!" was my immediate, and unthinking, response.

"Do you like to eat pussy?"

"I love to eat pussy."

"Are you willing to fuck on a regular basis without finding out anything about me, and without getting attached to me or ever investigating who I am, where I live, or anything else?" she rambled.

I thought about that for a second. I finally replied "If the sex with you is always as good as today, I will agree to anything -- although I can't guarantee that I won't at some point feel something for you."

"As long as you don't act on it, that's OK. Agreed?"

"Agreed," I quickly responded, resulting in a big grin from Gina and another squeeze of my cock.

"How will we get in touch with each other?" I asked.

"Here's my present, temporary, email address," she said after reaching into her purse for a pen and piece of paper and writing down something ending in "@aol.com."

I looked at it perplexed. "What the hell is an email address?" I asked.

At this point I need to clarify something. It was 1993 and Quantum Computer Services had just changed its name to AOL. Internet service was dialup and many people knew little to nothing about email, and I was obviously one of them.

She laughed. "It's an electronic communication system using a computer and Internet service. This is my address on that system. You're going to need to figure it out, and get your own email address, if you want to ever fuck me again. And quickly, because I change my email address every two weeks, and this one is almost a week old," she continued, pointing to the address on the note that she had given me.

Despite the perplexed look on my face she continued. "When you get your email address, send me the following message." With that she wrote on the slip with her email address "Hi girl; this is Amber. When and where should we meet for some heavy duty shopping?" Then Gina continued "I'll send you a time, date, and place, and we can meet up again."

I was still perplexed as she gave me another cock squeeze, a quick kiss, got up and said "I've got to run. I really hope that you're interested enough to get with the program." Then she was gone.

As I sat there staring at the door she had just exited my crotch suddenly felt uncomfortable. Shit, my dick was rock hard again. My cock was now officially in control of me, and it was telling me that I had some work to do.

******************

I left that bar with a purpose and an outlook that I had not had for years -- maybe ever. I went back to my office and made out a list of what I had to do. It included: becoming more successful at work because if I was going to have an affair I needed to be sure that I was OK financially; finding out what the hell the Internet and email were and tapping into them; and finding a way to deal with my family so that they were happy and wouldn't be tipped off about my fucking Gina.

I took to heart everything that Gina had to say. In particular that I was a half-empty rather than half-full guy, devoid of self-confidence, and who didn't give his family the attention that they deserved. I decided that those aspects of my personality were changing right now!

That night, with my new outlook on life, I was in a cheery mood when I got home. I gave Gloria a big hug and kiss, wrestled with Luke and Rose and chased them around the house pretending that I was a tickle monster. Without being asked, I set the table and poured the kids glasses of milk. Gloria said nothing, but I could see that her eyebrows raised and there was the start of a smile on her face.

We talked about nothing but happy things at dinner, I cleaned up some milk that Rose spilled on the floor and instead of chastising her about it tickled her. I cleared the dishes and loaded the dishwasher -- something while not unheard of was certainly a rarity. After everything was cleaned up I enticed Gloria, Luke and Rose into a game of team Candyland, with Rose and I against Gloria and Luke. I had yet to acknowledge the TV, let alone turn it on.

I read the kids a story at bedtime -- again while not unheard of a rarity -- and instead of immediately becoming a couch commando in charge of the remote asked Gloria if she wanted to watch something. I actually sat with her and cuddled through a chick flick. I didn't even belittle it when we watched.

That night when we went to bed instead of trying to attack Gloria -- even though Gina had so ginned me up that I would have loved to fuck her brains out -- I gave her a back rub and then merely snuggled up to her to fall asleep.

The next day, a Friday, I left for work an hour earlier than normal. I stopped off at a computer store that I had found in the phone book the night before. I found an extremely helpful and knowledgeable employee -- someone we would call a "geek" today -- who gave me a quick course in computers and email, and even demonstrated how email worked and how to access the Internet. I found that I could buy a simple computer and modem on time, and did so. The computer dude promised to install it in my office that afternoon.

When I got to work I informed my boss that I was getting a computer to assist in finding prospects on the Internet, and also asked what I had to do to also begin selling business insurance as well as personal. After some apprehension on his part, for the first time in months he seemed to be willing to truly interact with me.

The first thing that I did when the computer dude set up my computer was -- with his help -- to establish an email account. During the rest of the afternoon I searched for prospects on the Internet, and found a course at the local community college about business insurance.

That night Gloria's sister Sybil and her husband Bill came over for dinner. Again without being asked I set the table, cleared it, read the kids a story when I put them to bed, and was completely jovial in interacting with Gloria's relatives once the kids were asleep. During the evening Gloria and Sybil indicated an interest in seeing a movie that Bill and I had no interest in.

"Honey," I said to Gloria, "if you watch the kids tomorrow morning while I go into work for a while and sign up for a community college course, I'll watch them while you and Sybil go to the movie. I'm sure that Bill would love a chance to go bowling while Sybil is out."

All three of them brightened up. "Won't you get bored?" Gloria asked, with clear surprise in her voice.

"Hell no, the kids and I will have a great time, and once they go to bed I'll start studying about business insurance -- I want to expand my knowledge to be more successful at work."