Why do I do it?
A message from the author.
I know that it is not everyone’s cup of tea. I know equally well though that there are many of us who thrive on it, who enjoy it and get a big buzz from it. I know I do. I get a massive kick and huge excitement from it. There’s some guilt and trepidation too of course, but they are relatively easily overcome. And when you have a fling or an affair the downsides are far outweighed by the upsides, well they seem to be at the time. One of the upsides, ironically, is that often after an affair, fling, or a one-night stand and usually during it as well, you feel closer to your partner and it can become the glue that keeps the relationship stuck together.
Now I am talking, of course, about women cheating. Horrific is it may sound to some bigoted men, it does happen. Women do go off and ‘sow their wild oats,’ oddly just like men do and have done for years. Well in this new age it’s the females’ time and it’s us who can have our cakes and eat them as we fuck both our husband and our lovers.
I’m talking about cheating, about playing away from home, being unfaithful and having bits on the side. Long term affairs, short flings and even one-night stands, they all provide that buzz, that kick and usually those thrills and excitement. During and between my two marriages I have had loads of buzzes and kicks, and lots of thrills and excitement.
Liaisons such as described above arise from many situations. This series of stories, some of which are taken from my own life, looks at the motivations, pleasures, excitement and concerns of the more common circumstances.
The casual fuck.
For several months after the end of my first affair, I reverted to my usual roles of wife, housekeeper and now part time worker. I was nearly able to forget about my affair with Kendal; it was almost as if I had seen it in a film or read about it in a book and not been the star character in a real life drama.
As winter set in I started feeling depressed; as October gave way to November the prospect of the long, damp months ahead always made me feel that way. Also, I started becoming restless, I was bored and fed up. Richard had been away quite a lot, meaning we had not had a holiday for ages. I now knew the signs and feelings and I realised that I was ready for another fling.
As is often the case when an office affair goes tits up, one of the parties leaves the office. Clearly, that was not going to be Kendal so I was on my way. My husband Richard and I had been looking to buy a couple of flats and gradually build a property portfolio. Buy-to-let had become a hot topic and it seemed an easy way to make money, certainly enough to more than compensate for the loss of my modest income. Our idea was to rent them out; I would act as the managing agent, giving me something to do as I no longer had a job.
James was the manager of the estate agents in a town a few miles from where we lived, a cheaper area for property prices, and he was handling the search for us. He was smooth, well-dressed, sophisticated, seemingly intelligent, utterly charming and fantastic in bed. However, it took me some time to find that out, for the first few times we had sex there was no bed.
We had been viewing yet another property, probably the tenth we had visited together. It was late afternoon, raining, and chilly. We were standing in the narrow entrance hallway of the flat, facing each other, and each thinking we felt something that had been building up for some time. There was a chemistry between us that James was familiar with, but of which I was wary, although it excited me.
“Is it just me feeling like that?” I asked myself several times as feelings of sexual desire swept through me when I was with him.
“It isn’t that big,” he was explaining about the two bed-room flat. “But it is adequate.”
As I learned later, James often had flings. Late forties, divorced, no kids to worry about, financially very well off and seemingly perpetually horny, why shouldn’t he?
His job brought him into contact with quite a few women. There were those who handled much of the viewing, and those who showed prospective purchasers around properties that were for sale. He also met many from other estate agencies and mortgage brokers. To him, they were all fair game.
Smiling and moving just a few inches nearer to me he said. “It would actually make a perfect little love nest, wouldn’t it Christina?”
It was a classic seduction technique: get the conversation onto an intimate level.
I was surprised, but managed to keep my cool.
“I wouldn’t know James, I’ve never seen one.”
“Actually we get quite a few projects to find flats, for rent usually, that the missus mustn’t know about.”
“Yes, it seems flings, lovers and mistresses are all the rage at the moment.”
“Amazing, I wonder why?”
“Because,” James said, his voice quietening and thickening as the excitement of the chase got to him, “Women have more freedom and Kastamonu Escort choice nowadays, I reckon.”
“And you think they express that by having affairs?” I asked, my heart starting to pound as I realised that, to an extent, he was describing me.
“Yes Christina, I do, don’t you?”
Trying to be cool and clever with my words I quipped back. “What, express their freedom that way?”
“No, I meant have affairs.”
My attempt at being clever had failed and I felt myself going red. I knew my attempt at trying to appear cool had also failed. That showed clearly when I stammered, “Errr really, well I don’t know.”
He had me. He knew it and I knew it.
Putting his arm out against the wall over my left shoulder, he asked “Do you Christina?”
I was having the same feelings I’d had in the early days with Kendal. A kind of sexual frustration, although it wasn’t that, for Richard and I had sex at least twice a week, sometimes even three or four times. I was feeling a desire, a want, a need all in one achingly throbbing, irritating sensation. It started deep in the pit of my stomach and was now spreading out to fill my breasts and nipples, which I realised had hardened and were throbbing like two vibrating acorns.
I stammered. “Do I what?”
He smiled at me, just before I averted my gaze, as he replied “Have affairs, of course.”
I could not believe how forthright he was. How could he ask such an intimate question in such a matter of fact way? I had no experience of such a conversation or of being so put on the spot. I had no idea how to answer him. My mind was screaming to tell him to fuck off, but my body was screaming to tell him to fuck me.
I hardly heard or took in what he was saying about this being a love nest and how in such places kissing happens, as his hand went around my neck before he lifted my face. I could hardly believe that we were kissing, that his tongue was deep in my mouth and that his body was pressed hard against mine. Those things were happening though. As unbelievable as that was, his hand covering my breast was even more so, and my arms going around his body even more and more so.
He had been priming me all afternoon, I realised that now. Little touches on my arm or back as he ushered me through doors or into lifts, over-familiarity with phrasing, calling me love several times, lingering looks at my breasts, which looked quite prominent in the white, long sleeved, roll neck top under the black, leather bomber jacket and holding eye contact with me just that fraction of time longer than necessary. All that careful priming was now paying off, for him and me, it seemed.
“You have gorgeous breasts Christina,” he murmured, his fingers stroking and squeezing my left one, sending torrents of sensation through me.
There was no apt reply I could think of other than, “You must like small tits then,” but thought it more prudent to stay silent. Instead of speaking, I pulled his head down and kissed him.
I found it hard to breathe. The smell of his aftershave was so powerful and the feel of his lips on mine was so intimate, the sensation of his tongue in my mouth was so exciting and the feel of his day’s growth of beard was so masculine. The feel of his arms around me was so reassuring and the feel of his hard cock pressing into my stomach was so fucking horny I felt in fear of being made to cum there and then.
And that was what James had in mind; well, the there part but not quite the then.
He slid his hand just slightly up the inside of my top in the back. The feel of his fingers on my bare skin made me shudder. He ran them across my waist, just above the top of my jeans. He slipped his fingers into the waistband; I was wearing one of those wide belts outside the roll top so the top of my jeans was not too tight. As we kissed, he pushed his fingers further down, pushing past the belt before they found the elastic waistband of my knickers. He yanked that upward, causing the gusset to be pulled tightly against both the lips of my pussy and my clit, immediately generating an undeniably nice feeling.
I did not mean to make a noise or say anything, but I could not stop myself.
“Oooo,” I sighed, groaning “Oh God” as the sensations from beneath my waist combined with those from above it. It seemed my body had now clearly won the battle with my mind, and was being stimulated everywhere: my mouth, lips and tongue, my breasts and nipples, my bum, pussy, clit and my stomach. He assaulted each of these with his mouth, lips and tongue, his hand on my breasts, the other down the back of my jeans near to the crease in my bottom and his hard cock stuck firmly against my belly.
My back was against the wall, but he had pulled my body away from it, from the waist down. He pushed his knee between my legs, opening them before he positioned himself between them. He took his hand away from my breast and grabbed the cheeks of my arse. He pushed the other one further into my jeans grabbing the other cheek, this one though was Kastamonu Escort Bayan gripping my bare flesh. He then pulled me hard against his erection.
I was mad, I was convinced of that. We were mad, it was all mad. To be going this far so soon, to be having sex with someone I hardly knew and to be letting him do these things to me was crazy. Yes crazy, immoral, demeaning, wrong, sordid and so unfaithful to Richard. But it was so bloody exciting, those negatives. Or, were they really positives, I mused? Those thoughts soon left me; well they didn’t leave but were rather roughly pushed aside by my sexually befuddled mind. They were replaced with feelings of such powerful desire, sexual want, need almost, freedom, empowerment and just sheer horniness that I knew I was now putty in his hands.
I found myself thinking, “this is as near to being fucked as you can be, while still having clothes on.”
James had his cock right against my mound, though still inside his trousers. It was stimulating the tip of my pussy and of course my clitoris. He pulled on my buttocks so that the pressure increased. I could not help groaning with pleasure, and arching my back even more, causing me to press myself harder against his erection. He began moving, up and down, up and down against me, sending such delicious feelings rippling through my entire body.
My arms were around his neck, as I pulled on it, grinding myself against him in this amazing simulated fuck. But it seemed that James wanted more. As exciting and pleasurable as this was, I got the feeling that he wanted the real thing; he wanted me, and he wanted me here and now. Yes, this man whom I hardly knew wanted to fuck me in a flat that he was showing me as a potential customer.
Pulling one hand out of my jeans he shoved it unceremoniously up under my top, right onto my left breast. It felt good and we both sighed with pleasure. Without further hesitation he scooped first one and then the other boob out from my bra.
James told me some time later of his theory that once you start a seduction, the best plan is to continually increase the tempo and pace. ‘Don’t give her time to think, rationalise or object,’ was his motto, and that had worked well for him with many women since his divorce.
Almost roughly, but appropriate for the circumstances, he yanked up my top. Again, without further ceremony he buried his face between my breasts, licking the shallow cleavage and gradually moving towards my nipple. Greedily, he sucked that into his mouth as he still simulated the fucking movements with his cock on my stomach. My body was now screaming for total satisfaction and I responded by grinding myself back against his sensational hardness.
If I’d had the time to think about what was happening, I might have objected. Although I had played away from home a little, I still considered myself to be relatively faithful to Richard. In no way did I consider myself to be particularly promiscuous or low on morals, certainly no more than many of the girls I knew through work and social activities. Yet here I was in an empty flat being humped unmercifully by an almost total stranger. More to the point, I was loving it and I wanted more.
His hands left my bum. They had served their purpose there, they no longer needed to pull me forward, as I was only too happy to thrust my pubis against him. He pulled away from me, just a little, but that was enough to fill me with disappointment as the lovely feelings stopped. He moved back just enough that his hands could go between us, so that his fingers on one hand could fumble with the brass button at the waist of my jeans, and so that those on the other hand could slide my zipper down.
“No, James, no,” I said, not in the least bit convincingly.
“Yes Christina, yes,” he breathed. “Let me.”
“Yes we should. You want to and so do I. I want you like I haven’t wanted a woman for ages,” he lied.
I could not help smiling at what I knew was typical male bullshit.
“Like in what, this week?”
“Like in ages ever since the first time I saw you.”
He kissed me again and I forgot the bullshit. My arms went back around his neck. Unwittingly I had removed any barriers to him getting to the zipper of my jeans. He slid it all the way down, pushing his hand inside my jeans and right onto my wetness.
He slid his hand along the sodden gusset of my dark blue panties, sending shock waves of sensations through me. My body stiffened and I trembled. I knew that I was close to a climax.
“Oh God,” I moaned.
That was partly due to the extreme feelings, and partly to a slight sense of disgust I felt for not being strong-willed enough to stop him.
He pulled my jeans down until they were round my knees. It dawned on me then ‘He really is going to shag me here.’
“We can’t, we mustn’t,” I groaned, deep down knowing we could and probably would.
I reached down for my jeans, but he grabbed my hand. He held it tight and then pulled it up Escort Kastamonu and placed it right on his erection. It felt so good. He was nicely sized and so very, very hard.
“Unzip me Christina.”
That shook me. No man had ever asked me to do that before.
“Unzip me and get my cock out.”
The blatantly wanton words crashed into my mind as, unthinkingly, I did what he’d asked. My fingers were shaking, partly due to my arousal and partly due to the anticipation of holding and seeing his cock. I fumbled his zipper down and plunged my hand inside. Fiddling through the tails of his shirt and past the folds of his boxers, I eventually got that awesome sensation of holding a lover’s cock for the first time.
It was fairly big, more in girth than in length, bigger than Kendal’s and bigger than Richard’s, but it wasn’t huge, like some I had seen when messing around on the web. It was hot, it was smooth, it was full and it was throbbing. It was everything a cock should be.
“Oh yes Christina, yes,” he moaned thrusting it in my hand as he kissed me and rubbed my mound. “Do you like it?”
“What?” I asked not quite understanding him.
“My cock Christina, do you like my cock?”
Again, I was amazed at his affront, asking such a question. I was even more amazed, however, when I found myself replying.
“Yes James, I do.”
“I want you to have it Christina, I want to give it to you.”
“Not here, not in the flat James, we can’t.”
“Oh yes we can, and I want to Christina. I want to fuck you right here and now in this empty flat.”
I had never before felt that I would enjoy dirty talk or that I would find such basic words arousing. And yet, as James said that he wanted to fuck me, I felt my pulse start to race and my heart start to pound. I wanted to hear more.
“Oh God,” was all I could mutter as the words, ‘I want to fuck you,’ roared through my mind. Nobody had ever said that to me before. ‘I want you’, ‘I want to make love to you’, and even ‘I want to sleep with you’ but never the bald, harsh, arousing and so to the point, ‘I want to fuck you’. It sounded just right, it felt just right and was just right for that was precisely what I wanted him to do: fuck me.
James must have understood what was happening, felt the vibes, and picked up on the clues very quickly.
“Yes you like my cock, and you want me to fuck you with it don’t you? Say I can, Christina, tell me that I may fuck you.”
As much as I now wanted, no needed, to have full sex, I could not quite bring myself to say it. His fingers suddenly pushed the cotton of my panties slightly up my pussy and he almost snarled “Say it Christina. Tell me you want my cock up here, that you want my big, hard cock up your cunt. Tell me Christina, tell me I can fuck you.”
I could not do anything other than cling to him or say anything other than a whispered “You can James, yes, you can.”
I didn’t reply as he went on, now purposefully turning the screw as he pumped himself in and out of the palm of my hand. He repeated himself: “Can what, Christina? What can I do?”
I was almost sobbing at the somewhat degrading way he was pushing this. But somehow that added to my excitement as I groaned “You can fuck me James.”
“And where can I do that Christina?”
“Here, right here,” I sobbed, now totally out of it.
“No, I meant where do you want my cock?”
“In me, up me.”
“Yes I know that, we both know that Christina, but where in you?”
“In my pussy.”
“No Christina, don’t call it that, give it its real name.”
I was a little confused, but then the penny dropped and my pulse raced even more as I said quietly “My cunt, James. I want you in my cunt.”
Still wearing the bomber jacket, with the top bunched round my shoulders, my tits pulled out of my bra and my jeans around my ankles, James shoved the gusset of my knickers to one side and that is precisely where he pushed his cock, right into my cunt.
If the lack of guilt and remorse I felt when I first had sex with Kendal surprised me, then being at home with Richard that evening after being shagged by James, and not being worried about it, absolutely amazed me.
That I had done what I did with James was bad enough. But the way it was done was just so simply sordid that if I had been told of another woman doing that, I would have been shocked and probably a little disgusted.
To have sex where we did, to say the things he persuaded me to say and to have been screwed—for that was what it was, a screw—with most of my clothes still on while standing up against a wall, was simply awful by the standards of most of my life. But here I was, cuddled up on the sofa with my husband, sipping wine and watching TV as if without a concern in the world. And that is exactly how I felt.
“Oh yes Richard,” I groaned, genuinely excited as, later that evening, his cock slid inside me.
I was on my back, my legs were spread, drawn up and wrapped around my husband’s back; he liked that. His right arm was underneath me, his fingers nestling between the cheeks of my bum, his left one was between us, his fingers pinching and pulling my nipple. My arms were around him with my hands gripping the firm cheeks of his well-formed bum., a position we both liked and used quite often.