Tag Archives: cheating

Brinkmanship

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon in the company of the pilot, his wife, child and their friends. A mutual colleague (and yes, another serial adulterer) had invited us over to his place to ‘work’. No one told me it would be a family event. I genuinely thought we were going spend Saturday afternoon working at his place. 

A strange afternoon, with three children playing and running around, two wives, distant, unsociable, watching TV, whilst the three of us poured over laptops, working and cooking dinner for everyone. The pilot would brush past me in the kitchen, tackling me to the floor, playfully. We stepped out together to pick up some missing ingredients and beers. He drove. We talked about sex. He told me about a 3 year affair he’d had at his last job. Apparently, no one knows about it. Not even the co-pilot. I told him about my little bondage fun with the co-pilot. He said he was jealous.

Then he asked me a question that’s been playing, tantalisingly on my mind ever since: “Have you ever had aggressive sex?” I racked my brains, various images, memories flitted across my eyes. Animal, yes. Instinctual, raw. But not aggressive.

Now I am curious. I imagine what he would be like. I think he knows me better than I know myself. I long for this brinkmanship to climax. 

2 Comments

Filed under General

Flying with the co-pilot

Insomnia. It is a good state to be in when you want to write. Dark outside, husband asleep, brain racing.

Last week was that start of an adventure. It has been six months of build up – looks at work, touching under the table in bars and conversations full of innuendo and promise. The co-pilot is someone I’ve had my eye on for some time.

He is the pilot’s best friend and partner in crime. The pilot has instigated a role change for me at work, so that I now work directly with the co-pilot. I can tell he fully expects something to happen between us. It has brought about a delicious dynamic between the three of us – meetings, lunches, drinks – we all know what will eventually happen. You see they are both like me. They are serial adulterers.

Last week the co-pilot and I travelled on business together. We stayed in the same hotel, taking the local teams out for dinner and drinks – a double act of charm and hard work. There is an unsaid understanding between us. We work well together. We play even better together. As the evening drew to a close and we regaled the remaining stragglers with stories of the London office, we fondled one another’s legs under the table. That familiar heady heat began to course through my veins. It was time to leave. A short taxi ride later, we stepped out of the lift and walked calmly to his room.

I had decided not to give myself to him yet. I wanted to retain control over him, so I undressed him, not allowing him to remove my clothing. Blindfolding him and tying his wrists together with his leather belt, I pushed him to the bed. It has been such a long time since I had touched a man. I reveled in his pale, naked skin, his beautiful body and fully erect cock. He has a cock to admire – both aesthetically and proportionally. My objective: to give him the best blow job he could have hoped for. And to leave him wanting more.

Taking him in my mouth, I slid his shaft in until his tip touched the back of my throat, clasped his girth with my lips and pressed my tongue against the underside of his cock. I began to massage that throbbing vein with my tongue as I masturbated him with my mouth and hands.

The first time you bring someone to orgasm is like a sketch for a painting. You are looking, watching, reading, interpreting. It is the first stage of a process. Every sigh, exhale, shudder and gesture hints at how you need to capture the person. The co-pilot promises to be an interesting subject for a longer term project. The first studies are done, I begin to plan my masterpiece.

2 Comments

Filed under flings

The pilot

Let me introduce you to the pilot. He is someone I work with. Charismatic, engaging, intelligent, ambitious. He can also fly a plane and for the purposes of this blog, will henceforth be known as the pilot.

We have spent a couple of evenings together (always within a work context), yet it is already clear that both he and I share a physical attraction. His hands have strayed to touch my back, slipping around my waist as others were not looking and quickly withdrawing before being caught. Sitting side by side at a table, our legs brushed and remained touching as conversation above the table continued with other colleagues. We have exchanged late night texts, confided aspects of our personal lives with one another and I am beginning to realise he and I may well be a similar species: adulterers. There is something about the way he makes eye contact (held just a fraction longer than is socially acceptable); his smile (the slight twitching of the corners of his mouth as he decides whether to toy with me or not); the way he looks at me (I feel undressed, light headed).

The unspoken conversation between us is unravelling into the most delicious, delectable game of flirtation, chastisement and desire. How delightful that he and I have a meeting over coffee tomorrow morning.

Leave a comment

Filed under General

The road to recovery

I suppose I’ve come off the rails a bit recently, neglecting this blog, my adventures in adultery, losing my lust for life and libido in the process. Don’t get me wrong, there have been flirtations, fleeting embraces and some incredible head (courtesy of a surprise visit by my older lover). But somewhere in my brain that switch hasn’t flipped for some time. I long to lose myself in sheer physical, sensual arousal.

I had a good half hour of thinking time, driving across London this morning. I drove past the pub where I met Moriarty before going to the swinging club all those months ago. It crossed my mind to go there one evening, to be touched, sucked, fucked out of this numbness. I spent an evening with Moriarty this week. He cooked, we talked, drank wine, touched. It felt like a thaw, a long inhalation of breath. Something began to shift, lift.

The next night I saw the economist, ironically he has broken up with his girlfriend. We had dinner, though he remained on a work conference call throughout. We went to a gig, hands touching briefly, the alcohol loosening our inhibitions. We spent time at a bar afterwards. I told him how much he meant to me. We kissed. But it is clear to me that he is not someone who can cheat. And I cannot bear to witness him find another girlfriend again, standing on the sidelines as a substitute.

And so, I am reaching the conclusion that the road to recovery lies ahead. A new lover. A new lust for life, for living, for fucking, for feeling. I am hopeful.

Leave a comment

Filed under General

Caffeinated dating

He owns a cafe in trendy East London. We met at a gallery a few weeks ago. Last night we met again. I will call him the barista, though I have yet to try his coffee.

I can tell he is a player. He has that twinkle in his eyes, a disarmingly charming smile and he moves quickly. He approached me first of all, handing me his card, promising to make me any coffee I wanted ‘on the house’. He flattered me, followed me from gallery to gallery, pub to pub for the rest of the evening. We talked, openly, honestly. He told me about his girlfriend who had just found out she was pregnant. He seemed excited about it, unable to keep it a ‘secret’. I told him about my husband, about my life. He suggested we all meet up for dinner sometime. We exchanged numbers and this week arranged to meet up. But just the two of us.

Wanting to have an ‘activity’ to do together, I booked last minute tickets to a comedy show. We met in the rain outside the theatre, kissing cheeks (as friends would). I was struck by his scent – the same scent as my older lover. It triggered a deep and distant desire. We chatted over a few beers before the show started, our conversation very rapidly turned to sex. He told me about some of his sexual experiences, revealing rapidly what I had suspected – that he has a high sex drive and follows his desires. We took our seats in the theatre, but left half way through, the show not living up to expectations. We jumped in a taxi to avoid the rain and sped towards Soho.

Drinking G&Ts at various pubs and bars, we talked, looked, smiled, I blushed. There was a tension in the air, one that felt heavy and in need of release. After all the usual places had closed, we found our way to a great little underground bar. He had this uncanny way of talking to the bar staff and waitresses that made them feel at ease, giving us incredible service all night. In that underground bar, we sat close to one another, our legs touching, our hands lingering on the other’s arm, our eyes locked in a silent conversation. I felt alive. He touched my knees, letting his fingers linger between my legs, hinting at what he ‘could’ do. He is an incredibly sexual person, a predator. I recognise those traits. We were the last to leave the bar when it closed and walked arm in arm to find taxis. He stopped and took me in his arms, kissing my neck and collar bone. I could feel his erection as he pressed against me. We did not kiss, merely let our cheeks brush and inhaled one another’s scent. It was intoxicating. It reminded me of an animal sizing up the prey it has caught.

Today he has texted me a number of times. I find my mind wondering what it would be like to have sex with someone so experienced, such a predator. I suppose only time will tell. I sense a little danger, but then I love that tingle that comes with it.

Leave a comment

Filed under flings, General

To bolt

I find it interesting that the word ‘bolt’ has both the meaning of restraint and escape..

I feel trapped, bolted into a situation I want to bolt from. One evening this week I was out for dinner with the husband, in-laws and other members of their family. The conversation turned to super injunctions and Strauss-Kahn’s alleged rape of a chamber maid in NY… and to serial adultery. A sudden cold panic gripped me as I tried to look calm and nod at the appropriate comments. I was shocked to hear their views: that someone who is a serial liar, such as a serial adulterer cannot possibly be trusted in any aspect of life, including their job. They were all very vocal and opinionated on the subject matter. I remained quiet, trying to think of ways to deflect the conversation onto other topics. Eventually I succeeded, yet had to endure an evening of heavy hints and passive-aggressive talk about babies (or lack of).

Ever since then, I have had this incredible urge to bolt. I look at flights almost daily, trying to find ways to escape this bolt hole. Evenings like that feel like a noose around my neck, getting tighter and tighter until I cannot breathe (and sadly not in any erotic sense).

1 Comment

Filed under General

The need to be out of control

The last 7 days have been, perhaps, some of the most delectably decadent days I’ve had. From my first swinging club and orgy, to indie night with Moriarty and the economist, to sampling the ‘fetish’ scene, being spanked by some guy in a pub, exchanging numbers with three very interesting men, one of whom I sat next to on a flight, to being driven by a cab driver who wanked whilst speeding me to a weekend of partying with Moriarty, the economist and his girlfriend and dancing with a beautiful older woman.

I am exhausted, yet not satiated. I can feel the pull, the drag, the need to cast off all restraints and plummet head first into an abyss of abandon. The more I sample, the more I crave. Perhaps this is some form of self-destruction, but already, my mind is planning my next project. There are a number of candidates to choose from. It is most definitely time to lose control.

 

Leave a comment

Filed under General