My husband and I have been married for seven years. We don't have any children, but it's not from lack of trying. We've both been to see doctors, but they can't find anything wrong with either my husband or me. I can't be mad about not getting pregnant, but I'm not getting any younger either.
I love my husband dearly and do my best to be kind and considerate towards him. He does the same for me. We never fight and rarely get into an argument.
We're both introverts, so we'll spend evenings together on the sofa watching TV. Sometimes I'll read on my Kindle while he works on our computer. My husband is a software developer for a federal government agency. Yes, we live in a suburb of Washington DC.
We live in a cookie-cutter three-bedroom house in a pleasant planned neighborhood outside the Beltway. We've lived here for as long as we've been married and know our neighbors pretty well. We live near the cul-de-sac on our street, so it's pretty rare to see a car go by that doesn't belong to one of the neighbors.
Sure, our neighbors have friends and family over, especially during Thanksgiving and Christmas season. But, like I said, I tend to notice when I happen to see a strange car go by, especially if it looks like the driver is looking for an address. I'm pretty sure our neighbors do the same.
I sometimes wonder what secrets our neighbors keep. I'm not so nosy that I'd try and find out anyone's secret, but sometimes I let my mind wander and think about what might be going on behind my neighbors' closed doors.
I have one of those secrets, and I've been bursting to share my story with someone. I might as well share it with strangers who don't know me personally.
Andrew.
Yep, I'm having an affair with Andrew.
It all started several months ago. I was browsing biographies at our local library branch. Sometimes, I get tired of reading on the Kindle, and actually want to read an honest-to-goodness book.
Anyway, I'd pulled down a biography of Carter Braxton, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. I was standing in the racks looking through the first chapter, when I heard a voice say,
"Braxton originally opposed independence, but later changed his mind."
I looked up and saw Andrew. "Oh," was my brilliant response.
We walked over to a sitting area, sat down, and spoke quietly to each other for about an hour. Like I said, I try to be kind and considerate. Besides, Andrew seemed to know a lot about history and I was interested in what he had to say. My husband is pretty smart, but he doesn't share my interest in history.
I didn't think much about my encounter with Andrew until I ran into him about a month later. I was going into Whole Foods when I heard a voice I recognized.
"Fancy running into you again. How was the Braxton biography?"
Andrew took me to lunch and I found out about him and his life. He is a police officer in the largest city in the next county over from us. He works shifts, so he often has his days to go out and do things. Like going to the library and doing his grocery shopping.
I enjoyed our lunch together and thanked him for treating me. He asked me for my cell phone number. I gave it to him, thinking he wanted me as a friend. Yes, I was that naive.
The first few times Andrew called, we talked about books we've read and movies we've seen. I felt very comfortable with Andrew. I enjoyed our conversations and looked forward to seeing Andrew's number pop up on my phone.
Andrew and I were talking on the phone one afternoon, when he asked me if I had an open marriage, I was surprised. I didn't know what to say. Andrew could tell I was uncomfortable by the silence over the phone. He apologized, said goodbye, and hung up. I didn't know what to think.
That night, while my husband and I were in bed together, I told him everything that had happened between Andrew and me. He listened to my story, thought for a while, and then surprised me with his response.
"Do you want to be with Andrew?"
At the time, I honestly didn't know. I really liked Andrew, but I didn't want to hurt my husband or jeopardize our marriage.
"I don't know. Do you want me to be with Andrew?"
I was expecting a firm no. I wasn't prepared for the silence. I was wondering what my husband was thinking when he finally responded.
"If you really like Andrew and being intimate with him is something you want, I want you to go for it. I don't want you to regret missing this opportunity."
I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I gave my husband a huge kiss and put my right hand on his growing cock. I gave him a slow hand job while he sucked on my nipple. He came really quick, which was a pleasant surprise. After I cleaned him up, he kissed me while I used my finger to rub my clit. I thought about what it would be like to be intimate with Andrew and had my orgasm really quickly.
A couple of nights later, while my husband and I were in bed together, he confessed that he'd been thinking about me being with Andrew and how aroused it made him. I heard an old historical word that I never thought would apply to me. Cuckold.
