Many thanks to Bryan for his great editing work.
***
I am Stephanie, 51years old, and my husband Robert is 63.
This story begins three years ago after my husband's retirement.
Since he retired, we have moved to live in a small place by the sea, we have a very lovely house and life is delightful there.
No traffic, great sea food, cool air, nice weather.
Sometimes our married daughter comes to stay with us with her family. She is a mom of two and I adore my grandchildren. When they are with us, I am so happy and we have a great time.
Yes, it is a delightful place to live. But there is a 'but'. Life it is also a bit boring there when summer has passed by. I realized this as soon as we moved there. It was January.
Bob, my husband, is mad about fishing and every day he went to the shore with his equipment. Gumboots, waterproof garments, sailor cap. He went out at 8am coming back home in the afternoon.
I had plenty of friends before we moved, but they were all 200 miles away. I was alone with nothing to do apart from setting up the new house to my satisfaction. I put up curtains, draperies, I hung paintings on the walls, I positioned ornaments. Then I placed ornaments in a different way and hung paintings again in a different place. I even rearranged the books in the bookcases too.
It was Winter of course, with clouds, north-winds, heavy sea and rain. Stormy weather. I had to remain home and read books. I listened to music also. I love opera and listened to a two hour opera three times a week.
Late afternoon, with Robert coming back from the shore chilled, I prepared him a warm bath and sometimes I bathed with him. Once or twice, I sucked on his cock and he fucked me from behind saying. "Oh, Steph you have a great ass as always," as I bent over the sink.
It was okay but by the time a month had gone by I was bored.
On a sunny day I walked to the village, a very nice sea village indeed with 2000 inhabitants during the winter. Walking to the harbour I came upon a sailing school and read an advertisement on the front door. 'We are looking for a part-time secretary, call number etc... '
I read the advertisement without really taking it in and continued on my way to the harbour.
In two minutes, I arrived at the pier and sat down on a low wall. Imagine that I was in a painting by Monet. A lady sat on a wall in a seascape with boats rocking lazily in still waters.
But I was not a painted lady in a beautiful picture. I was alive.
And I was a bored lady. So, I found myself thinking about the part-time job as the sailing school secretary.
I said to myself why not. It was a good way to kill the time maybe, and on the way back home, I walked past the sailing school and took notice of the number.
I rang up that afternoon and a man with a warm voice answered. He was the boss (and the owner) and offered me an interview the next morning. Not bad! In the evening I discussed the idea with my husband. He had no objections so I put on my best dress and attended at the time agreed.
Andrew, the school boss and owner, was a very handsome man with kind manners. 45 years old, blue eyes, long grey hair tied in a pony tail and strong hands.
The job consisted of recording and banking cash and cheque payments from customers, answering the telephone, helping Andrew plan sailing courses, dusting off desks and generally keeping the office clean and tidy. Not a big deal because there were only two desks, Andrew's and my own. Working days were Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Of course, I accepted and my job as a secretary began.
Usually, Andrew was at his desk when I arrived at 10 o'clock. We went through what was happening with the school, we chatted about all manner of things, sometimes we had a coffee together then he left, coming back in the early afternoon.
In a month we were friends and sometimes we had lunch together. He was a gentleman and once drove me to a very nice restaurant some twenty miles away.
Coming back to the school I asked him in joke "are you wooing me, Andrew?" and he said "maybe". We both had a little laugh and that was all that happened.
I was flattered. Being wooed is an ego boost for a mature woman and Andrew intrigued me being so kind and charming, and single, too.
Two months passed by and spring arrived. No more nasty wind and rains. Going to my part-time job was a pleasure for me as the harbour was lively with boats coming and going all the time and many people visiting our Sailing school or calling seeking information about sailing courses or how to rent a boat. I was very busy. Life at home was still repetitive but I didn't mind it as much.
I was happy to see Andrew three times a week and work part-time for him.
That Friday morning hubby gave me the usual little kiss on the cheek leaving for fishing at 8 o'clock and I remained lazily in bed.
My mind wandered absently, thinking about men. Bob is a good husband, I am mostly a good wife and we are a happy, settled couple. But I had been naughty twice in the past.
Bob, my husband is the real man in my life and I could not compare him to any other man in the world. But when I was about 35 years old Bob was giving his priority to his job and I felt neglected particularly because we rarely had sex any more.
Well, he was busy but I had a strong sexual appetite and maybe my slutty side came out. I started to go out alone resulting in some serious flirting and exchanging numbers with other men.
I was unfaithful for the first time with my daughter's literature teacher. I knew him from parent's evenings and I must confess I came into school a few times under various pretexts because I found him sexy.
One evening I had booked to go to the theatre with my husband Bob but he was very busy as usual and called saying sorry Steph, I am working late tonight, I'm not able to make it.
I answered, "shit, Bob, we planned the evening a month ago, you can't do that."