Would You Want to Now?

What I had done was insignificant in the world view. I hadn't started World War III, joined ISIS, or killed anyone. However, I had done something that was toward the "real bad" end of the "marriage relationship" scale. It wasn't the worst of the worst but it was much closer to that than simply yelling at my husband for no reason, for example.

I had a one night stand.

Actually, a one morning stand since it all happened between 12:01 a.m. and 7:15 a.m.

It was a first, and I guarantee that it is an "only," time in my stable marriage to Brad; my two little kids and husband are too important to me to repeat, and it is only because of the circumstances that I was lucky enough for it not to have immediate consequences. What I was wrestling with was "Would Brad want to know?"

Would he prefer to remain clueless, especially since there was no possibility that he would ever know unless I told him? That would certainly save both him and me some real emotional pain.

Would he prefer that I provide the honesty that characterized the rest of our relationship even though it was a big hurdle that we would have to overcome?

Am I thinking seriously of the last option simply because "confession is good for the soul" even if it is bad for a marriage?

These thoughts were so preoccupying me that I had to reach some permanent decision otherwise I would go nuts. It caused me to think back on what had happened.

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

I was an academic and dance star in college, and after graduating got a full time job in a field that I enjoyed with no long range goal of marriage - I would just see what happened. I met Brad a year later, fell in love, we were married eight months after that, and had twins - a boy and a girl - by the time that I turned twenty six. That changed me.

Neither Brad nor I wanted the most formative years of our kids' lives determined by a nanny or day care provider, so I quit my job and raised the kids full time until they were both in kindergarten and I was thirty one. By that time Brad had established himself in his business and could work from home many days so that we could easily share before and after school child care. I was ready to go back to work.

I got back to full speed in the job market quickly. A requirement for me was that the job have no travel, and this was true up until the one year anniversary of my employment when I either would tread water or jet ski in my career; I chose jet ski both for the money and responsibility, but still no travel, EXCEPT for a one week seminar that was mandatory if I wanted the promotion.

When I got to the seminar I was shocked to see that one of the presenters was Terry Boswell, someone I knew in college. Terry was mega-cute, the president of the student body, and a truly nice, compassionate, and considerate guy. I had always hoped that he would ask me out, but since I never asked a guy out in my life (for some reason, although I honestly don't know why, I always had dozens of admirers), and he never got my subtle hints or simply wasn't interested, things never worked out between us.

Terry immediately recognized me. "Hi, Amy," he said with an enormous grin as he hugged me. "WOW, you look even better than in college, if that's possible!"

"You've really aged well yourself, Terry," I replied, also with a smile, although I was thinking to myself "If I looked so good in college why did you never ask me out?" However, that thought quickly exited my mind, as we chatted about the upcoming seminar.

Terry was the sole instructor in two of the sessions I needed to attend, and on a panel in another, and seemed to have organizational duties for the conference in general. I later found out that he was the one of the three owners of the company putting the seminar on, with the help of two employees

The information at most of the sessions was extremely helpful for the job that I was being promoted to, especially the two taught by Terry. It was a good group of people - except for the half dozen guys, most married, that hit on me. I deflected all of them skillfully and only verbally, except for one who I had to knee in the balls.

I especially had a good time with a group of three women and two guys from Texas, and we had most meals together. Terry joined us several times, much to the pleasure of the three women who all remarked "He's dreamy," or "mega-cute," and he was always solicitous of my opinion and asked for feedback on how things were going. Also, Terry and I exchanged loads of information about our spouses, kids, and lives in general.

The only truly bad part of the conference was that I desperately missed my family. I talked to both the kids and Brad twice a day, but it wasn't the same as cuddling the children or fucking Brad.

Brad and I had an active sex life. We both enjoyed the hell out of oral, and liked to fuck at least three times a week, often five or six. In fact except for the two weeks before and six weeks after I delivered the twins I don't think that three days in a row ever went by that we didn't have sex of one form or another, usually playing hide-the-salami.

Friday was the last day of the seminar, but the sessions went all the way to six o'clock, and then there was a dinner and reception to follow, the reception in a hospitality suite one floor up from my room. Because I was working with two of my classmates and the instructor for the last session solving a thorny complex real life problem that my classmates and I all expected to be confronted with in the near future, I didn't get done until almost 7 p. m. My call to Brad and the kids lasted almost an hour because they were chatty and had had a marvelous event-packed day, and each kid required that I talk to her or him alone for at least a significant part of the conversation.

I arrived for dinner late, in fact just in time to accept my award for "best teammate" (the guy I kneed in the balls probably didn't vote for me). The over-zealous staff cleared my plate while I was at the dais so about all I got from the dinner before the reception started was dessert.

The booze was flowing freely at the reception. When I saw Terry working his ass off at it to keep things moving I asked where his two employees who were helping with conference logistics were.

"One had a family emergency, the other got sick, so it's just me," he said with a wane smile.

"Not anymore - I'll help," I chimed in.

As I was bustling about I was also drinking much more than normal - in fact enough so that I was certainly at least legally too drunk to drive - not that I was driving anyplace. Since a number of people had early morning flights - I couldn't get one until around 10:00 a.m. - on Saturday, the reception broke up early, but not before I was tipsy.

After everyone else left, Terry and I flopped down on a couch and sighed. We started talking aimlessly at first, because he was obviously drunk too, and then he said "You know, Amy, that I had a terrible crush on you in college."

"That's the first I heard of that," I snickered. "I gave you lots of hints but you never asked me out."

"You always had so many guys sniffing your butt - I just thought that you were out of my league and I was so averse to getting shot down and having my ego destroyed. Would you really have gone out with me?"

"Hell yeah - I always thought that you were really cute, intelligent and a great guy; much better in every way than most of the guys who did ask me out."

"Can I get a kiss just to see what I've been missing?" he cackled. He raised and lowered his eyebrows in a funny way - as much as a drunk could be expected to anyway - and then we both laughed.

"Sure," I said, standing up on my wobbly legs, as he did the same. We embraced, kissed - and then the next part becomes hazy.

I know that I was drunk, had minimal food, was tired from a long conference day from 8 a. m. to 7 p. m., was emotionally drained from talking to my family, and was horny as hell for not getting any cock for a week for the first time since six weeks after I delivered the twins, now six years ago.

There was a small room, with a bed and bathroom, adjoining the hospitality suite, and sometime after Terry and I kissed I found myself lying on the bed with no lower body garments (but my top still) on with Terry on top of me. I fuzzily remember his basically limp cock in my wet pussy, but he was too drunk to perform and I'm quite certain that we didn't actually fuck - then!

At some point I felt the bed move and saw Terry get up and go to the washroom. I looked at the clock - 4:52 a. m. Terry came back, pants off but his shirt still on, and I went into the bathroom. I looked at my cooch as I peed and there were no real signs of activity - certainly nothing too dramatic anyway.

When I returned to the room, my head still in a fog, Terry was sitting on the bed, still bottomless and shirted, munching from a big jar of mixed nuts, and with two half liter bottles of Perrier sitting on the bedside table. "I'm hungry and thirsty and got these from the mini bar - want some."

"I'm starving and I'm so parched that I feel like I've walked across the desert," was my reply as I - also bottomless and shirted - grabbed a bottle of Perrier, sat next to Terry, and dove into the mixed nuts.

We primarily talked about how good the food and drink felt and how fuzzy our heads were until everything was consumed. Then Terry said "I need a shower -how about we save water and take one together?"

To my addled brain that sounded logical. We took off our shirts, Terry got the water warm, and then we stepped in and soaped each other up.

Up until that point I could have rationalized my actions by the aforementioned drunkenness, horniness, and bizarre circumstances. Once the water cleared my head somewhat, however, from that point on it was cheating, plain and simple - my "one morning stand!"

I noticed that Terry had a nice cock and just the right amount of chest hair and muscle and little body fat.

Terry noticed that I had nice tits and a wet - not just from the water - cooch, and also good muscle tone and little body fat.

I made sure to get his cock nice and clean - and hard.

He made sure to get my tits nice and clean and my nipples hard, and my vagina wet.

We barely dried off from our shower as we stumbled, clutching each other, to the bed. The bastard went right after my pussy with seemingly every movable part of his body - except his cock - and I had two very substantial orgasms before he let up. His cock was starting to seek my pussy when I regained complete awareness, flipped him over, and mounted him.

We proceeded to move from cowgirl, to missionary, to doggy, to reverse cowgirl, and back to doggy, both of us bucking like broncos or thrashing like landed marlins the entire time. In the final doggy iteration if his dick had had a problem the night before, it didn't this time. A seeming tsunami of cum blasted my vagina following a series of Terry's grunts as I screamed into a pillow.

Once Terry extricated himself I grabbed his glistening cock, shoved it into my mouth, and cleaned it up as he moaned, groaned, sighed, and giggled. Once it was spanking clean, he started sucking my tits while I lay in post-coital bliss massaging his heavy testicles. That's how I fell asleep.

Terry apparently had the presence of mind to set the alarm because there was a loud ringing in my ears before I felt his arm move. I looked over at the nightstand with the empty bottles of Perrier, one knocked on its side, and saw that the bedside clock read 7:01.

"I have a 9:15 flight," he groaned, just before he kissed my lips.

We both dragged our ragged asses out of bed, and put on the clothes strewn about the bedroom that we had worn to the reception, to get ready to go to our rooms, re-dress, and pack. We didn't say much until we were fully dressed when Terry held my hands and looked into my eyes.

"Thank you for allowing me to fulfill my fantasy," he choked out. "I...I know that we cheated, but this is a one-time thing, circumstances never to be repeated. I hope that it has no adverse effect on you - and I'll tell you what it will do for me," he somberly said.

Then a smile crossed his face and his eyebrows rose. "The time from four to seven this morning will get me through any bad day the rest of my life. When on the same day I lose my biggest client, my wife is mad as hell at me for some insensitive behavior, my kids are surly and nasty, and it's raining and a car splashes me with water when it breezes by, I'll stop and think. I'll think of the morning that my fantasy came true, when I fucked a goddess and every circuit in my nervous system went haywire and my mind was awash in endorphins. Thanks, goddess!"

Then we passionately kissed on the lips, he turned and walked out the door into the reception room, without looking back.

His words would have knocked my socks of if I had any on. My mind started to fully grasp what had just happened. I have a tendency to rate most of my experiences (sexual and otherwise), and automatically rated this one. While my top five sexual adventures definitely were with Brad, I had to admit that this one with Terry was in the top ten - maybe even number six.

Cum leaking down my right thigh snapped me out of my musing. I wiped it with a blue tissue and inexplicably put the tissue in my skirt pocket, noticing for the first time that my panties were gone. "I'll bet that the bastard took them," I chuckled to myself.

I looked both ways to make sure that no one was in the hallway when I exited the reception area, and took the stairs to my room. I showered again, thoroughly douched (my room had a bidet), put my clothes from the night before in a laundry bag (and again inexplicably the blue tissue in my purse), dressed, packed, and went down to the lobby.

I caught a glimpse of Terry hurriedly entering a taxi (I hoped that he would make his plane) as I walked through the lobby to the coffee shop. I got a pastry and cup of coffee, sat down to consume them, and was in my own cab on the very short drive to the airport by 8:15.

My mind was mostly a blank when I flew home. I was able to concentrate a little bit on some of the more important things that I had learned at the seminar, and was able to successfully avoid thinking about how I had cheated.

Brad and the twins were thrilled to see me, and I them. We had a completely animated, hilarious, trip through the airport to the car, and ride home, stopping at our favorite quick service restaurant for lunch. We took the kids to the park that afternoon, went for a swim in the community swimming pool, had a simple but tasty and nutritious dinner that Brad and I prepared together, and put the exhausted kids to bed early.

Once the kids were asleep, Brad and I grabbed a couple of glasses of wine and sat down in the living room. We talked a little about things that had happened while I was gone, how we were both thrilled that neither of us had any travel planned in the near future, and once our glasses were emptied started kissing.

I don't know what made me do it: something in my subconscious related to my one morning stand, normal horniness from being without my husband's cock for a week, the wine, my fatigue, or most likely a combination of all of them; but suddenly I became a sexual dynamo.

I sucked Brad's cock and balls until he was begging to fuck, then I mounted him right on the couch - oblivious to the possibility that the kids might wake up and see us - and rode him like a prize bull. I twisted, undulated, bucked, rotated, and pulsed my pussy muscles, sometimes all at the same time. I orgasmed quickly but just kept going, right through his orgasm and another for me before I collapsed on Brad.

Brad carried me in a half-comatose state to our bedroom, whereby I rallied completely. By the time that the kids came running into our room to "get up and play" about 8:00 a. m. on Sunday Brad had made a record three sperm deposits in my pussy and for the first time one in my ass; we were a contented cow and bull!

The only drawback? I wish that Brad had not whispered into my ear "You're a goddess, a fucking Aphrodite." Fortunately that triggered what Terry had said for only a second since my little girl had jumped on my lap and needed attention while I tried to cover up my bare tits.

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

Although I sometimes thought about it, I didn't agonize about my fall off the train, as I euphemistically referred to it, for several months. Life with work, where I got my promotion and loved my new job and gave high marks to the seminar (without even factoring in the A+ last morning), Brad, and the kids was going absolutely great. Then a series of events, in a three day period, focused my thinking on my fall off the train.

The first was a story that Gail, a mutual female friend of Brad and mine, told me about getting a divorce because her husband had cheated on her. I didn't pump Gail for details, however from what she said it was multiple times but what she considered a larger transgression than the cheating was him blatantly lying to her about it.

Then I read a story in Cosmo - one of my only guilty pleasures - about one night stands and the potential consequences.

Finally, on a rainy day, after the kids had been surly at breakfast because they were having an argument about some stupid-ass kid thing, as I was trying to stay dry under my umbrella while walking from the parking lot across the street from my building to my office a car flew by and missed soaking me by millimeters, what Terry had said after our fuck came back to me in spades.

I had a very unproductive morning. I finally got my head out of my ass when first I resolved to consult my guru best female friend Joan, and second when my assistant came barging into my office with an emergency.

Joan and her husband Rob alleged that they worked in import-export. They travelled often, without notice. They never talked about their jobs, skillfully deflecting any attempts to draw them into it. They are bright, personable, and the most discrete people that I know. I - and many of our friends - are sure that they're in the CIA, DIA, NASA, or something even more secretive (if such a thing exists).

Joan and I had lunch two days after I almost got splashed, and actually did get my epiphany. Like I said she is my best female friend and I can talk with her about anything. We are very straightforward with each other.

"Joan, I have a dilemma," I started out while stirring my lemonade with a spoon after catching up on families and before we started eating. "I don't know whether I should tell Brad about something that happened."

"What...?" she said with raised eyebrow.

I didn't have to preface my response with "Don't tell anyone" because even the Russians couldn't torture the information out of her she was so secretive. "I had a one night - actually one morning - stand the last morning of my trip to that seminar before I got my promotion a few months ago."

"With who?"

"A guy I knew from college who was one of the organizers of the seminar."

"How did it come about?"

"Drunkenness, horniness, fatigue, and followed by lust."

"Have you been in contact with him since?"

"Hell no, and I won't be. It was a completely non-repeatable event, I love Brad too much, and I feel really guilty about it. However, Brad and I have always been honest with each other, and I wonder whether it is something that he would want to know," I concluded, trying to maintain eye contact with Joan but having a hard time.

"Would you want to know?" she asked.

"Probably; but I don't want to just salve my conscience at the expense of his pain if he doesn't want to."

As you can see professionally Joan is probably a skilled interrogator. In less than two dozen words she had solicited all salient information from me.