I couldn't believe I was doing this. No matter what I said to reassure myself, nothing would make me believe that I was ACTUALLY doing this. I had always been the good girl, the one who went without, the one who put others first at her own expense. I had spent so many years bottling up my deepest desires that I almost couldn't remember them. But not anymore. Not this girl. No way, no sir.
Technically, I was cheating. The papers weren't even drawn up yet, and here I was, fully contemplating a lusty afternoon chock full of sin. Hell, contemplating wasn't even the right word anymore. The decision had been made and here I was. I had taken a long time coming to terms with this; I had always sworn to myself that I would never cheat. It was a matter of pride for me. I always promised myself that if it ever got so bad that I was tempted to stray I would just leave first. Well, it got that bad a while ago and I still didn't leave...or stray. I had been stuck in a terrible situation simply because it was all I had known for years and I was too scared to face the world on my own. I had thought I was lucky to have anyone who wanted to be with me at all, so I might as well just learn to deal with a husband who had no libido and couldn't care if he ever touched me.
I was always self-conscious about my weight. I had convinced myself that I was less than human, that I didn't deserve to be treated like everyone else, even though it was all I ever wanted. I felt that nobody could see me, all they saw was my body. All I wanted was to get married like a normal girl, prove that I could be wanted just like anybody else. I was so determined that I sold myself short at a very young age to the first boy, and I do mean boy, who was ever kind to me. Now most people would have lasted about six months to a year in my marriage, but I was a fighter, I was determined to make it work. So I buried myself in my marriage, associated myself only as a married woman. I gave up my hopes, my dreams and my fantasies in order to settle down and play mommy to a boy with a temper and a selfish streak that could rival any five-year-old. I spent so many years living with not being wanted as the extremely sexual person I had always been that I just sank deeper and deeper into my mommy role and gained even more weight while losing more self-esteem.
I was happy in my rut for seven years. I was content to live that way forever, numb and delusional. I was married. Someone wanted me. Well, maybe not wanted, but he sure needed me. He needed me to do everything for him, and I did it happily because it was great to feel needed. I thought I was happy until about seven months ago. That's when I found Literotica. That's what led me to him.
It wasn't right away, mind you. I had a lot of fun for a long time, but in a safe and removed way. Through the computer. I started out trying my hand at one of my favorite things: erotica. I had always wanted to write, and when I decided to goof around in secret one night, I realized that I wasn't half-bad. I didn't win any awards or anything, but they certainly got the job done and left me feeling something I hadn't felt in years: Sexy. I felt sexy again, perhaps truly for the first time. I felt sexy and I was ready to play.
I discovered that I had a little bit of a secret naughty streak in me. I began to make many online friendships through Lit, mostly innocent, some not so innocent, and all in pure fun. I found out that there were men in the world who not only thought that a bigger woman was attractive but would treat her like a princess, a goddess even. I began dressing better, taking care of myself. I started wearing make up again and giving a shit about what I looked like. I hadn't felt that good about myself in....well, ever. It didn't matter that these were nameless, faceless men who I never intended to do anything with. Most of them lived on opposite sides of the country, others on opposite sides of the world. All that mattered to me was that I was having fun and I felt sexy. I felt so damn sexy that I started realizing that I was getting a raw deal. I knew now that I could not go on in a funk for the rest of my life. I couldn't continue feeling rejected by the one person who should want me more than anyone else.
When I finally met him, I had already decided that it was time to start leaving. In the beginning he was just like all the others. A few flirtatious comments here, some sexy discussions there. He was twelve years older than me, and I had always found older men sexy. At one point he disappeared for such a long gap that I figured he had gone the way of so many flirts before him, on to greener pastures when it was obvious I wasn't up for meeting in "real life." What surprised me was that not only did he come back, but he came back with a vengeance. He made it clear in no uncertain terms that he was going to be my friend, and he was going to make me smile. He would tell me jokes and flirt shamelessly, just to get me to laugh with him. Whenever I was down, he was always there. Even if he couldn't be online at just the right time, he always managed to send me a quick note letting me know that he was thinking of me. The only flaw that I could find in this man was that he was married...happily. Now that sounds awful, I know, but I had met so many men who were just as lonely and depressed as I was. I had started justifying the possibility of hooking up with someone in the future if it ever came to it, but I always figured that it would be with a man who was in the same situation...married, but barely. Someone in need of comfort and touch, someone starving just like me.
This man was not like that. He had made more for himself than that. He had recreated his life in such a way that left no room for depression and emotional starvation. When his life had started heading south, he changed everything and was reborn from the ashes like a phoenix. There was no self-doubt, no aching hunger and need. He was a proud, strong MAN. He took what he wanted; he went from a bad marriage to being wonderfully happy. I had no idea how to relate to that, other than sheer idolatry. I was in awe of this man, and every time we spoke it only grew more and more. He was like nothing I had ever experienced. Was he a big flirt? You betcha. Did he think I was sexy? Damn straight. Did we have unbelievably arousing discussions in an open, frank way? Yes we did.
Perhaps I enjoyed his company so much because I knew I was safe. He was happy, he was satisfied. He liked to flirt unmercifully, but it was always in fun. I could let my guard down a bit; I didn't need to always be on for him, I could just be myself. He could see the real me and still want to be my friend. In one hand I idolized him as the ideal I would love to someday become, and in the other hand I simply idolized him as the ideal prototype for what I wanted to find in a man. So of course, being a typical woman, these feelings didn't last long before they meshed together into simply wanting HIM. Knowing full well that I would never have him, it didn't stop me from fantasizing. Looking back, it was ridiculous, actually. I admired him for being a wonderful husband, yet I secretly wanted to be the one he cracked for. I didn't necessarily want to keep him for myself, although there were plenty of fantasies like that also, but I wanted a piece of him. A piece of that wonderful man who made me feel unbelievable. I wanted to have a taste of what a real man was like, so much so that I was willing to forget about just why he was so perfect to begin with. I wanted to taste this man so much that I didn't care about anything else.