It had been the boredom and the loneliness that had resulted in Morag posting her profile on an adult contact site. That, along with the drunken urgings of her friend Beth, Morag admitted to herself. She quickly amended her thoughts. The truth was, if she hadn't been bored and lonely, she would never have done it, no matter how much vodka acquired courage she'd had.
It had been fun though. She and Beth had laughed non stop as she had posed for the numerous suggestive photos that Beth had snapped for her profile. She'd enjoyed fooling around with Beth for the video clip that they'd shot too.
All in all, Morag had been pretty pleased with the results. The photos were provocative but, amazingly considering how drunk they had both been, they were also tasteful. They were certainly nowhere near as revealing as the ones Beth displayed on her page. That, however, suited Morag. She was fully aware of her friend's exhibitionist tendencies and her own, comparative, lack of them.
In her mid-twenties, Morag was an attractive woman. She was 5'6" and of slim, yet curvy build, long blonde hair and dark brown eyes. She wore glasses and had made a point of wearing them in her photos, but these only served to accentuate the attractiveness of her features.
Despite all that she had going for her in her favour, Morag was pretty certain that her profile was unlikely to generate much in the way of interest. Even in the less than sober state that she'd been in, she had laid out detailed criteria about the type of people she would and wouldn't meet. She had also taken pains to draw attention to the fact that she was married and was looking to find someone (or possibly several someones) to help her relieve the loneliness she experienced two weeks out of every four while her husband was away.
For the next few days, Morag fretted about what she'd done. At the time, with Beth urging her on, it had seemed like nothing more than a bit of fun. Now, in the cold light of day, and completely sober, it didn't seem to be quite such a good idea after all. Almost a week passed before she summoned up the courage to log in again. During the intervening days, she had had the urge on several occasions to simply remove her profile but something had stopped her.
Somewhat ruefully, Morag admitted that there was something about the whole thing that she found perversely exciting. After all, she told herself, it's not as if she actually had to go through with anything. She was still, technically, in the clear. She was still uncommitted and could still walk away, so what harm was there in having a look to see what, if anything, might be available if only she were too? Was it really any different from perving at some good-looking guy or letting herself get chatted up when she was on a night out with her girlfriends? She done that often enough and, while it always made her feel good to know that, despite the rings on her finger, men were still attracted to her, she had never let things progress beyond some harmless flirting; so why should this be any different?
Pouring herself a glass of wine, Morag steeled her resolve and sat down at her PC to log in. Having expected to receive no more than a handful of messages at most, she was shocked and very pleasantly surprised to find more than a hundred waiting for her. Mentally, she kicked herself for having left it so long before checking.
As she began wading through the messages, her initial elation quickly gave way. The vast majority consisted of one line efforts along the lines of, 'Hi babe, let's fuck!' accompanied by a picture of what was obviously meant to be the sender's penis, although, in a number of cases, she doubted whether that was, in fact the case. Other messages were clearly from people who hadn't taken the time to read her profile; the sender being either too old, too young or lived too far away.
She did laugh when she found a message from Beth, wishing her 'happy hunting' and admonishing her not to get too disillusioned when she found herself overwhelmed with the type of message that she'd just spent the last forty minutes or so wading through. Morag wished she'd found Beth's message earlier. If she'd read it first, she might have decided not to have bothered going in any further.
In the end, after a little over an hour, Morag had found only three messages that, in her opinion, were worthy of further consideration. One of those, although well written, she dismissed on the grounds that he didn't have any pictures. The other two, well, she'd have to think about them.
After another glass of wine and, having read both messages again several times, as well as having viewed both senders' profiles, Morag decided to grab the bull by the horns and type out replies.
Over the next few days, Morag exchanged a flurry of messages with both Craig and Neil; sometimes three or four messages each day. As the days went by, the conversations moved from e-mail to instant messenger and from there to texts via their mobiles. As Morag grew more comfortable with the men, so the tone of their correspondence grew increasingly frank; the text messages more outrageously flirtatious; the web-cam sessions leaving progressively less and less to the imagination.
All in all, Morag was extremely satisfied with what she chose to call her 'cyber affair'. She enjoyed the online attentions of Craig and Neil; so much so that she felt a vague sense of loss when she had to curtail her activities during her husband's periods at home. That said, her husband's physical presence and the attention he lavished on her when he was at home more than made up for not being able to 'spend time' with Craig and Neil. That and the fact that a certain amount of discrete flirting still went on via text message.
And so things continued...
It was Neil who first suggested an actual meeting. "No strings," he had said, "Just a friendly chat over a few drinks."
Morag had hesitated at first but eventually, egged on by Beth, her curiosity had got the better of her.
"Why not?" Beth had asked. "It's only a drink. Nothing more needs to happen. Not unless you want it to, that is," she'd added with a knowing wink.
"It's the wanting to I'm worried about," Morag had admitted. "He's a good looking guy and, well, you know what I can be like when I've had a few to drink, especially if I'm feeling lonely and frustrated."
"Well, don't drink too much then," Beth had advised, albeit not particularly helpfully, "and have a bloody good session with your rabbit before you meet him. That way you won't be too frustrated and you'll probably be too knackered to do anything."
In the end, Morag decided to chance it. As it turned out, their meeting was exactly what they had 'arranged'; a friendly chat over a few drinks; nothing more. It wasn't that Morag hadn't been attracted to Neil; quite the reverse. She was quite prepared to admit that, had circumstances been different, she'd have been happy to have let him give her 'a good seeing to' but, as things were, she wasn't quite ready to go down that route. Yet...
In the end, they both left, content to let things carry on as they were, albeit on the basis that should Morag ever change her mind, she knew where to find him.
Later that evening, sitting at her PC, chatting online with Craig, Morag told him all about her meeting. The conversation quickly descended into an explicit description of what might have happened if Morag had allowed things to go further. With their web-cams switched on, they entertained each other as they described, in as much detail as they could using only one hand to type, the various things they would do to each other if the opportunity ever arose.
They both came. In Morag's case, a number of times. By the time they bade each other goodnight, they had arranged a meeting in a little over two weeks time, after her husband had gone back offshore. They arranged it on exactly the same terms as the one she'd had earlier that evening with Neil, a drink and a chat; no strings; no expectations of anything more.
"So?" Beth enquired the next day.
"What?"
"Last night, silly. How was it?"
"Yeah, it was good," Morag replied noncommittally.
"And?"
