Dianne Meeting With Peters Wife

During the time I worked with Peter O'Neill on the suburban improvement project, he hosted barbecues at his home. All the families were invited. There were Peter and his wife, Dianne, their sons Mark and Paul, along with me and my husband, Ron and our son, Ryan and Clive Wishart with his partner, Cindy. They were good days and I found out at the first BBQ that all three boys go to the same school — not surprising in a small town.

Some months after the barbecues, I met Dianne, Peter's wife, in a large shopping mall in Hopetoun. She asked me if I had time for a coffee and a sandwich with her. I accepted her offer and we found a quiet restaurant. Unlike Peter, she had to ask for a table. We ordered and chatted as we waited for our meals. She told me Peter hasn't stopped talking about me since he met me at the council meeting almost a year earlier.

"Peter has the belief that Fate has a hand in how our lives work out, he believes it was Fate that brought you and him together. He likes the way you work and your enthusiasm," she told me. I thanked her for her kind words, but explained,

"Dianne, he has undersold himself. I was at the meeting to see what I could find out as a journalist, to try to break into the local newspaper scene in some way. It was he who saw the potential I had, not me; I was feeling lost in a world of seemingly important people. I attribute my interest in the project to Peter when he painted a lovely word picture of how it will be when it was completed."

"Oh yes, he does that all right. I have been the recipient of many word pictures for ornate bridge designs, road widening and the occasional tunnel projects that come his way. He is good at his work, but I really don't need to know every detail of the lace-work of a bridge railing. But as a wife, I listen. Yes Wendy, I can understand how he brought you into his dream. I bet that is what he called it. Didn't he?" Dianne waited for my response.

"Yes, he did. Until I met Peter, I didn't know what it was to have dreams that you could believe in. He was very good at sharing his ideas. I have to say, Dianne, that after meeting him I am having dreams, some of which have come true. I attribute them to Peter's explanation of needing to believe in yourself and make them come true. To be positive, which I lacked before meeting him, I have thanked him for that, many times. You have an exceptional husband, you are so lucky." I meant every word I told her, although some of them not in the same context she believed them to be.

"Oh Wendy, I can see you have been drawn in under his spell. Sometimes I would like to have just an ordinary husband; not one who is always thinking and planning into the future. I think it would be nice."

I reached my hand out and placed it over hers on the table, "No, Dianne, you would not like it. Believe me. My husband, Ron, is an ordinary man. He has negative comments about everything and all that I do, my work — even with the wetland project. When I told him I had met Peter who had some great ideas for the wetlands near Jackson Boulevard, he said, 'Why? That's a dump. Just let it be; it can't be fixed.' That was the most interest he has in anything I do. No, Dianne, you want Peter. I think that every job to him is a new world that he can share with you. You don't want one like my Ron, I can assure you." She looked taken aback.

"Wendy, can I share something with you, please? It's something very personal. I had been hoping to see you shopping here one day, so I could talk with you. I don't want you to say anything to anybody, but I want to ask you a very serious question. Can I, please?" The expression on her face changed to deadly serious and for a moment I thought I was dead! Was she going to ask about Peter and me? What did she know? What had she found out?" I had no choice, but to let her share whatever it was and face the consequences, if she asked that question.

"Dianne, what is it? You look so serious. Has something bad happened?" I needed a clue before I was in too deep. Dianne's expression changed back to friendly.

"No, it's personal, rather than serious, but I don't know anyone I can trust for an answer, but I think you have been involved with people's lives more than me, and I hope you won't tell anyone. Can you do that, Wendy?"

"Of course, I can keep secrets. I have been doing that for a long time now. I value people's privacy, so nothing of whatever you say will be forwarded to others, I can promise you that. But what comes into that category in your world, Dianne?"

She leant forward across the table to me, and in a voice barely audible, she said, "I have a lover." I gulped.

I wasn't expecting that! I tried to be as quiet as she was when I whispered to her, "What do you mean?"

"I have a lover." She repeated her answer and paused to let me absorb it. "He's a young man in his twenties. He's lovely and so attentive," she told me. I was dumfounded and relieved, both at the same time.

"Dianne! How? How? I mean, how did it happen?" I didn't know what to say or where to start. "I am stuck for words, Dianne. Please explain how that all happened." I was trying to sound surprised, but my surprise was focussed on her taking a lover. I didn't think she was the type to do anything like that, but you just don't know with some people.

"Oh Wendy, I have shocked you, haven't I? I'm sorry, but I needed someone to talk to," she explained.

"That's OK. It's not that I don't think women have lovers, but because it was you saying it, I was shocked by your admission. Are you happy, or do you want to end it?"

"It happened a while ago and I have been agonising ever since then about what is right and what is wrong with me having sex with a younger man." It was a strange explanation, but at least the story was becoming clear. I nudged her along by adding, "I am not judging you, Dianne, but has this affair been going on for long?" I asked as calmly as I could.

"You know him. He was at the barbecues Peter had at our house for that project you were working on. It's Clive Wishart." The words hit me like a whack on the head. I wondered how it could have happened.

"Yes, I do. He did the excavation work for the wetlands project. He is very good-looking and well-built. Right? I had to work closely with him to get the digging done, he doesn't like what he calls office work. Yes, I know Clive," I confirmed.

There was a silence. I looked at her and thought for a moment before I spoke, "Well, having sex with a younger man is something I dream of. I think it would be great. It must be every woman's dream, but few of us are that lucky. Is it really true?" I was still tossing over in my mind how the unlikely association between a sophisticated woman like Dianne and a simple-living, working man like Clive came together. It reminded me of Lady Chatterley's Lover, to be honest. I needed to know more, so I asked her.

"How long has this been going on? Has it developed to you fucking him?" I asked straight out. Beating around the bush was not going to do it.

"Yes, it has been going on for some weeks now, and yes, we are doing what you just said. It's been many times now. When Peter is not home, obviously." She was looking down as if she was ashamed of what she was saying.

"Dianne, you are a lucky girl. It is a dream I have had, but not fulfilled. I know many married women who talk of such things, but only as fantasy, you have made it real. So, what is your problem, Dianne?" I tried to sound convincing.

Dianne, looked at me and said, "I don't know if I am satisfying him. I don't want him to stray. I have never felt as alive as I do when he is inside me and holding me off the ground." My mind tried to take in that image of Dianne being suspended on Clive's cock. Maybe it is something I could try with Clive one day, I thought.

I took her hand in mine and said, "Do you want me to say congratulations, or to caution you about having sex with another man's partner? I am not a counsellor, but a friend. I don't know what to tell you. My brother used to say, 'If it feels good, keep doing it.' I'm not the one to say stop, I think it is great that you have found some diversity in life; another interest, you could say. It has been said by experts, that a change is as good as a holiday. Perhaps this is your holiday time." Just a few clichés, but ones I hoped would start her thinking. I was thinking that I really would like to try that cock thing with Clive, one day.

She was silent for a while. "Would you like another coffee, Wendy?" I nodded and she signalled the waiter and ordered. "The truth is, he gives me more pleasure and satisfaction than Peter does, I am ashamed to say. He is a true lover. With Peter it is just a fill-in between his thoughts, if at all. You know what I mean?" I didn't really, when Peter was with me he was the antithesis of her notion of him, but I'm not married to him, besides, he has never disappointed me. "Wendy, I am always last in his thoughts. Let me explain something to you. One night he was exceptionally happy and I sensed it might be a chance for sex, so I prepared for some activity in bed. He came to the bed, still seemingly in high spirits and I thought, 'Tonight's the night'. He climbed into bed, came over to me and put his arm over me and said, 'Today was great, Gallagher Engineering have accepted my design for the new sewerage pipeline.' You can't imagine how letdown I felt when he said that; so you can see why Clive's advances were so attractive, can't you?" Indeed, I could.

Our coffee arrived. I watched Dianne put sugar in her coffee, all the time looking down at the table. I touched her hand again, "Dianne, I am not judging you, I'm the last person to do that. I have had affairs with other men's wives in my younger days. I know what it feels like. How does Clive make you feel?"

She turned her head to look at me, "Alive, Wendy. Alive." As she spoke I saw the hint of a smile and the sparkle in her eyes. I could see she was enjoying this newfound interest.

"Dianne, have you ever had extra-marital affairs before? I mean to say, if it is your first time, you may be having misgivings about where it is going and if Peter will find out. My feelings are that you get used to it after the first few times you start an affair. Doesn't Clive have a partner? He did at the barbecues. Is he still with her?"

"No, that's my worry. If he had a partner or a wife, he would still be thinking of her when he wasn't with me. When I am with him, I never think of Peter. It is only after he leaves that I remember I am married to Peter."

"Wow, that's heavy stuff, Di. Do you want it to stop?" She shook her head in a negative gesture. "Then, enjoy it while you have it. Treat it like a flower. You watch it grow, put it in a vase and soon after, when it fades away you throw away the remains. That worked for me in my younger years." Most of what I told her was the truth.

"He left Cindy because of me, he said. He told me he knew there was more to sex that just a 'quick poke under the bedcovers in the dark'. He said he wanted more than that, so I have been encouraging him to do more with me. He likes blowjobs, but Cindy thought that was dirty. Wendy, I shouldn't admit this, but he licks me ... you know where, unlike anyone I have ever known before. Not even Peter does that. Clive gives me such pleasure doing it." I bet he does, because I taught him, I reflected silently. Boy, have I got some things to discuss with Clive the next time he visits me.

"Well, that's good, isn't it? You want a man who knows about your vagina, they are complicated things, so if a man has good knowledge it means you get great pleasure in my book." I paused to let that sink into her brain. "By the way, you didn't say how it started. Who did what to whom? Who made the first move, Dianne?"

"I think I did. Peter told Clive he wanted some-one to replace the back fence because it was falling down. Clive offered to do it in return for Peter getting his work recognised by council for that project thing. The day he started replacing the fence I asked him if he'd like a cold drink. It was a hot day and he was bare up top and was wearing shorts. I was afraid he'd get too sunburnt, so I invited him inside to have a cooling beer with me. He did and that was when it started. It just seemed to happen and neither of us stopped it." She explained rather poorly, so I had to ask.

"What were you wearing? Maybe your clothes provoked him. Tell me what actually happened. I am sure you can remember, no-one forgets their first affair. Can you remember?" I was keen to know, because Clive liked bare thighs, I learnt that from my experience with him. Dianne has nice legs, so that may have made him horny. She thought for a while, then started to piece together that first day Clive entered her house.

"It was a hot day. I had forgotten he was coming, I think Peter may have told me that morning before he left for his office. I must have forgotten. Clive came to the front door and told me he was about to start pulling the old fence down. I said OK. I watched as he took his shovel and other heavy tools into the back yard. Because it was a hot day, I may have only been wearing a caftan over my naked body. I had a shower earlier and put on perfume then slipped the caftan over my head. Yes, I think I was wearing my caftan, nothing else." I thought for a moment and asked,

"Does it have slits up the sides? Slits up to about mid-thigh?"

"Yes, I think it does. Why?"

"Well, if he could see a lot of leg, maybe he thought it would be nice to feel. Some men are like that. If he had left his partner, he may be feeling lonely — or horny. Especially, if he knew she wasn't interested in sex. Didn't you say that before? Anyway, tell me what happened next, that seemed to be the start."

"I went to the fridge and brought him a cold can and one for myself. He watched me as I walked to and from the fridge; I knew he was watching me — and I liked it. We sat and talked about his job and how he met Peter."

"Did you sit beside him?"

"No, I sat opposite him in an easy chair. While we drank our beers he seemed to be looking closely at me from the other side of the coffee table." I had an idea of what may have happened and asked her,

"Dianne, did the caftan cover your legs while you were sitting down? If I wear a caftan I know that the fabric leaves an opening between my legs, so he may have seen your bare pussy and thought you were seeking his attention."

"Do you think so? I didn't mean to do that. If I did, I didn't realise it." There was a short pause before she went on, "But Wendy, I am not regretting it if that really was the cause. He offered to get another can from the fridge for us and when he returned he gave the can to me and asked me, quite casually, if I'd like to see his penis. I thought it was unusual, but out of curiosity, I said 'yes' and there it was, his hard, long penis pointing directly at me. I couldn't help myself; I took hold of it and gave it a few playful squeezes. From there on things happened fast and I was soon giving him a blowjob. I think he asked me to do it, but I can't be sure now."

"That sounds like a normal situation, so what happened next?" I queried her, and asked her to continue.

She continued, "He reached down and rubbed his hand on my thigh and kept going up higher. I was still sucking his cock and I didn't want to stop him feeling my leg. He came in my mouth just as he reached my vagina opening." I think I can remember a similar scenario at my place some months earlier. He was doing what he learnt from me.

"Was that the only time he did it?" I asked Dianne.

"No, he was here for three days replacing the fence and each day I invited him in for a cold drink. He came inside and I worked on him and he fingered me like an expert. He visited me again, after the fence was completed, and asked if he could come inside. Of course, I let him inside and we chatted over a coffee. He kissed me on the mouth as he was leaving. I think it may have been just a 'thank you' kiss, but I asked him to stay longer."

"He told me I was a lovely looking lady and he would like to make love to me. Well, I wasn't busy and he took me by the hand and led me to the long sofa in our front room, he sat me down and asked if he could fuck me. Wendy, I didn't want to disappoint him and I truly wanted to know what his big penis would feel like inside me, it's been a while since I felt one inside me, so we did it. We did it that day, the next and each day for the following week. I have never been so happy and relaxed — until I thought about what I had done. That's when I felt I needed to talk to some-one about it. That is why I wanted to talk with you. I knew you shopped here, so I have been waiting, just to talk with you. I don't have anyone else I would trust with this situation. I hope you don't mind, Wendy."

"My god, Dianne, by telling me all that you have made me wet. I think my panties are wet! So, why do you want to stop? I'd keep going as long as I was getting enjoyment out of it. Remember what I told you what my brother said by enjoying the moment?"

"Well, I know it is wrong and I can't reconcile enjoying good sex with being a good wife," she told me.

"Dianne, when I was in that situation, I convinced myself that the two situations are mutually exclusive, one has nothing to do with the other. There was the everyday world I lived in and the world I entered when I was doing what you are doing. I tried not to let one confuse the other. Enjoy each world at it occurs. It was the only way I survived my love affairs as a young journo."

We finished our coffee and I must say I envied her situation. I hadn't been that far with Clive yet, but I was grooming him for some long term sex trysts, but Dianne has experienced the fruits of my labours already. Good luck to her, I still have her husband— the Peter she doesn't know.

A week or so later, Clive came to visit me. "Hi Wendy, how it all going?" I answered him and he asked me, "How's your sex life going?" I didn't know if it was a casual comment or if there was a hidden meaning.

"Not as good as yours," I answered.

"What do you mean, Wendy? He looked surprised, as if he had been caught stealing sweets from a jar.

I told him, "I had lunch with Dianne O'Neill last week and she told me about you and her." His face went pale.

"Don't worry, Clive, I am not angry. In fact, I am pleased to hear you are getting good sex from a woman who has good experiences with sex. You are a lucky man. She is a beautiful woman, but for god's sake, don't let Peter find out. It could get you scrubbed off the preferred tradesmen list at the council office in a flash. So, why did you visit me today?"

"I was in the area and I like you, so I thought we could spend some time together." A good answer, I thought.

"What happened with Cindy? Dianne told me you have split with her," I asked him.

"You know, I told you. She doesn't like sex because her parents said it was for having babies, not for pleasure, so I tried to show her it can be quite pleasurable, but she said her parents told her it was not right to do it unless you wanted a baby. I liked being with you and what happened with Dianne was just strange. I can't remember how it happened, except that she was giving me a blowjob, when I was replacing her fence. I liked it and called in the next day and soon after we got to have the real thing. You know."

"Yes I know. How was she? Good? Bad? Indifferent?" I asked him the questions in rapid succession.

"I think she was good, she knew how to do it and I enjoyed it," he told me. He was being honest, so I asked him,

"Would you like to do it with me, Clive?" He said he really would like it, so I took him to the spare bedroom and slowly removed his clothes and made him watch as I slowly removed mine, taunting him with glimpses of boobs and pussy and playfully flicking his cock with my panties. I watched his cock register his interest and when he was fully erect I told him to lie on the bed. He did so and I lowered my body on his cock, but I didn't move. I let him feel my tits and I teased his nipples. "Did Dianne do all this for you?"