My second day of freedom started a little more promisingly than the first, but only a little. I had enjoyed more sleep than the night before: the cold had woken me only once, forcing me to slide under the duvet and I had passed the night in relative calm. But as the alarm clock beeped alongside my head and I opened my eyes, the reality of the situation rushed in on me again.
I was alone in the silent house. My husband Pete had left me because I had lied to him about seeing Tony, the only lover I had ever had; the man who months earlier had seduced me and with whom I had started a passionate affair. Our separation might be forever; it might only be for a fortnight but at that moment he had gone and there was no guarantee he would return.
When, after a month of illicit sex I had confessed my infidelity to my husband, Pete had eventually agreed to it continuing and the two of us having a Hotwife-Cuckold relationship. But that did not mean I had carte blanche to sleep with anyone, anytime; my husband was supposed to agree who I slept with and when. I was not supposed to see or fuck Tony without my husband's consent.
It was a matter of trust; trust which I had broken.
Most importantly, I was not supposed to see any one man frequently enough to form a relationship that could threaten to our twenty-year-plus marriage. This I had done with a vengeance too; Tony and I had fallen deeply in love. Indeed our relationship had become so deep that during a recent, highly-illicit overnight stay in a country house hotel, we had openly discussed how I should leave my husband, move in with Tony and perhaps even marry him once he was divorced from his estranged and equally unfaithful wife Julie.
Even this deceit could have remained secret if I had been less naïve and more careful.
On the terrible Sunday only two days before, my period had prevented us making love so to ease his frustration I had given Tony one of my rare blowjobs, swallowing his cum afterwards - an even rarer event. I had then come home to my husband pretending to have been to the gym. Pete had smelled Tony's semen on my breath, tasted it in my mouth as he kissed me and the truth of my deceit had come out.
When he found out the extent of my illicit relationship and the frequency with which I had been deceiving him, my Pete had been angry and hurt, announcing that he needed time and space away from me to decide what he wanted to do.
He had moved out of our house that very day and into the Duty Consultant's apartment at the hospital where he planned to stay there for the whole of the coming week. After that he would go to Geneva for a week-long conference, an event infamous for its nightly bed-hopping, leaving me 'free and single' for two whole weeks.
During that period I could do whatever I wanted with whoever I wanted to decide which of the men in my life I wanted to be with. If I wanted, for two whole weeks I could live with Tony full time as his wife; just we had dreamed about during our romantic nights away to be sure that the decision I made was the one I really meant.
Of course, at the same time my husband would be deciding whether he could remain married to his lying, cheating wife at all, whatever decision I might make.
When he returned from Geneva, if we both wanted to get back together then we would try to make our marriage work again. If either of us was in any way uncertain, separation and divorce would follow.
To reinforce the gravity of the situation, he had insisted we both handed back our wedding rings. The apparent lightness of my ringless hand and the paleness of the finger where it used to lie were unsettling me greatly.
To my considerable unease, far from being delighted that his professed dream could come true, my lover Tony had been strange and distant. Instead of moving straight into his apartment, falling into his welcoming arms and then into his bed as I had imagined, we had not been together at all since Pete had walked out.
It wasn't Tony's fault; his daughter had come home, he had told me. She was staying in his apartment while she recovered from boyfriend trouble and might be there all week. Obviously her presence made it impossible for me to play the role of her father's wife, but Tony had missed our coffee date the next evening too, sending an excuse at the last moment after I had got myself all dressed to please him.
I had even shaved the Little Pink Pussy that he loved so much in the hope that we might at least get one quick fuck in the back of my car as we had when our affair was brand new.
The idea had been a failure. As a result, my first two nights of freedom had been spent alone in a large, empty house, writing erotic stories on my laptop; putting into the lives of my characters all the sexual excitement that was so obviously and painfully missing from my own.
Late that night I had been forced to resort to my first masturbation in decades to obtain any form of release from the powerful sexual arousal my writing so often produced. I had felt dirty and ashamed when I woke that Tuesday morning, naked apart from my bra, my fingers and thighs a sticky, strong-smelling mess of dried vaginal juices.
Thank God work was busy again, making time pass quickly, barely giving me few moments to think about either of the two men in my life. During those rare moments I called and texted Tony half a dozen times to try and arrange a date. But he didn't answer. As the day progressed, the messages I left degenerated from being warm and sexy highly explicit before finally sounding desperate.
I texted him before and after going to the gym too, but still he didn't reply.
That evening I ate alone, drank most of a bottle of dry white wine, spent several hours writing angrily and frantically then went to bed, aroused and frustrated.
***
I rose very early on Wednesday morning after a third night alone. Still feeling ashamed, I had resisted the urge to masturbate the night before or use the secret vibrator that lay secretly in a shoe box at the bottom of my closet. I suspected that my willpower wouldn't hold out for long.
The unexpected and unwanted pause in my sex life had given me time alone - horribly alone - but strangely had continued to give my writing an impetus it had badly needed. Since my affair had begun and physical pleasures had overtaken literary ones, I had published little and my readers were beginning to drift away.
I badly needed the distraction too, otherwise my early waking would give me even more time to contemplate my position and to wonder what both my husband and my lover were doing, both of which I dreaded.
Why hadn't Tony replied to my messages? Was his phone broken? Lost? I had called his land line too but couldn't leave a message in case his daughter Hannah picked it up. Had she found out about us? Was that what was preventing Tony from coming to me, the woman he had said so often that he loved? That he wanted to marry?
The woman whose current marriage was teetering in the brink because of him?
I wondered what Pete had done the last three nights. Had he found someone to take my place in the narrow single bed in the Duty Consultant's apartment? After all, he believed me to have been living as my lover's wife for the last three days, free to make love with him as long and as often as we wanted.
Why wouldn't he find a replacement for his lying, cheating wife?
The thought of Pete in the arms of another woman was almost too painful to bear. How he had manged to tolerate my rampant infidelity for the last months was beyond me. The mere thought that my husband might be with another woman, holding her hand, kissing her as he had kissed me, fondling her boobs as he had fondled mine was agony. And when I pictured him showing her the wonderful bodily pleasures that his mouth and tongue could deliver and, worst of all, penetrating her with his long, thin cock before filling her vagina with the semen that only my body had known for so many years, the images could and did reduce me to tears.
