I knew it was risky. Stephen and I had been chatting for weeks. Beyond the intense and erotic, we’d shared stories of dissatisfaction with our other halves. How they don’t listen. How we sat in silence. But mostly, tales of dying sex lives. Our feelings were mutual. Every single one. Now my pussy was positively burning for him and I’d risk everything for it….
Readers of this blog will have noticed I haven’t been posting for many months. What happened that day with Stephen is basically the reason why, though I have continued my journey under the radar since then and still have a story or two to tell.
Stephen and I had been chatting on a sex site. He’d been upfront about his desire to meet for sex. Again, it was mutual. He’s from a different part of the country but one day in March, he’d got word that he was going to work away. Stay in a hotel. 10 miles from my house. We had it all down. Details. I’d knock on his hotel room door. We’d not speak. He’d just bend me over. I’d cum so hard his groin would be soaked. Infidelity with military precision.
He was due to drive up tomorrow. I’d been giddy for days, during which my knickers were rarely dry. Every mundane action I did became aggressively hijacked, pirate transmissions in my brain, warped red-lit images of what we’d get up to. Seeing my tits swing in the bathroom mirror. Beads of sweat on his shoulders. My mouth round his engorged cock. While I was at the kids’ football practice or at the charity cake sale. Inappropriate, but so damn horny and made all the more hot by the fact no-one knew this quiet community helper was about to get her brains fucked out by a stranger.
So because I’m me and because I’m impatient, I ended up texting him and getting myself beyond worked up.
– I can’t wait, call me
– Where’s your husband?
– He’s not in. He hasn’t called yet so he hasn’t left work 😉
My hand was clasped to my clit when Stephen’s number came up on the screen. I was already moaning by the time I answered. The phonesex was steamy. We’d done enough small talk and it was down to serious masturbating. Two fingers deep in me, then drawing them slowly out and smearing my juice over my twitching clit.
I was on the couch, legs spread so wide, lifting my leg over the back of the sofa for extra leverage. Then the door opened. My husband HAD left work after all. The only saving grace was that I didn’t still have my hand inside me. Other than that it was as bad as it gets. Me naked, with my phone in my hand, clearly playing with myself. The fury I saw in his eyes will stay with me forever.
– What the fuck are you up to?
I heard a ‘hello? hello?’ on the phone. Stephen was fading away audibly and fading away back into the fantasy he started out as. In an instant our plans to meet had gone. More importantly, I thought my marriage had too.
So my husband and I had a lot of clear the air talks. I told him I was ringing sex lines. I cleaned my phone like a criminal covering tracks. Things were bad and this blog, among other things in my life, took a back seat. But this is a journey I don’t intend to stop right now. It’s taken me to new and exciting places and it’s only going to get better.
That incident back in March was a risk, but I honestly believe risks feed the soul. It’s vital we take risks to learn about who we truly. Although Stephen is one ship that sailed, there’ll be others that steer their way into my waters sometime soon I’m sure. I’m back in the game….
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