Monthly Archives: May 2010

Big city, big plans

My period in exile is almost over. Next week I leave the husband at home and travel to London. Alone.

It has been so long since I had my own life, time to write, time to think, time spent with lovers. Months. Their memories distant, fading. I need to immerse myself in sensual surroundings, overdose on the intoxicating scent of my older lover, drown in the adrenalin of a new lover’s touch.

Soon. Plans have been made. The first night will be spent with my older lover.  His family away, we will have all the time in the world. The night will be ours. My days are filled with momentary pauses as my body stops what I am doing and I linger in that place where he and I are entwined, naked, warm, wet. I imagine what it will be like when I see him again. We have not spent a night together since January. The thrill of rediscovering the familiar, to inhale his delicious scent and talk, touch, laugh over dinner, happy in the knowledge that we will indulge in one another for dessert.

My wedding gift is also due and so the second night will be spent in the company of the tall guy, recently returned from his honeymoon and keen to “collect”. A swanky affair, cocktails, dinner, a posh hotel. So cliched but, oh what fun it will be. He says he’ll bring the silk blindfold. I like his sense of adventure. I can’t even remember the last time I was tied up and blindfolded. It has been far too long.

Then there is the cute barman. He wants to fuck me. To give me the “best orgasm” I’ve ever had. Promises, promises. If I’m honest, I’m excited, but also apprehensive. He is the sort of guy to lose interest once he has conquered, and so I’d prefer to flirt, tease, hint, but keep him hanging.  He can fuck any girl he wants. He’s a slut. What a delicious tease it will be.

There will be fleeting meetings with others – the horny American, and the chance of meeting someone new… A week is a long time in adultery.


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Feeling alive

I’ve been awake for two hours. It was a restful sleep, a warm, all enveloping sleep until I was dragged back into a state of consciousness. Now I sit in an empty kitchen, sipping black coffee with a few hours to myself. The husband lies asleep next door. Dawn is outside. All is quiet. My mind wanders.

Perhaps because I was looking at flights back to London last night, or IM’ing the cute barman and planning our first fuck, or perhaps because it has just been too damn long since I had a fuck (with or without the husband). I’m not sure. Whatever the reason, my mind was searching in my sleep. Searching for him. For that deliciously warm feeling of his naked skin on mine, his tongue on my neck, my breasts cupped and kissed, feeling his smooth hot hardness inside me. Fuck, I need a fuck.

I want to abandon myself to the blackness, the red fleshy sea. I want to feel alive, living just in that moment, to hell with everything else. I long, crave, desire. Him. Why is it always him? My older lover. My nights are filled with his scent, taste and touch. I could drink from him and never be satiated. Fuck, I need a fuck.


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Is it just me?

Sometimes I wonder why I cheat. How did it start? Why do I do it? Do I have a sex-addiction? Or am I just addicted to the adrenalin of the forbidden? And then there’s the guilt. Or rather the complete lack of guilt. Why do I not feel any sense of remorse or regret for what I do? Am I lacking a sense of morality? Am I some kind of sociopath? Am I the only one? Is it just me?

I’ve read a number of articles about adultery and serial adultery. My first observation is that most are written about men. The underlying assumption is always – ‘men just can’t help themselves, it’s in their DNA, oh, and their poor wives who are left holding the baby ‘. Take the recent stories about Tiger Woods, Sandra Bullock’s husband etc, etc. So is it just men doing this? Is there some innate higher morality that women internalise as children, which means they would never do such a thing? Or are women just better at hiding their adultery? For every man having an affair, there is another woman (or many, if he is like me).

The only place I have found any voice for adulterous women is in the blog sphere. It provides both comfort and relief to know that there are others, that I am not the only one. I wonder how many of the women sitting on the tube, or waiting in line at the supermarket are thinking about their younger lover, the night they will spend in a hotel with another married man, the web of lies they will need to weave to escape their husbands or boyfriends tomorrow night…

If my affair track record is anything to go by, then the husbands you would least suspect of having an affair are probably having an affair. I wonder if the same is true of women?

I’d love to know what your experiences are, do let me know.


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