Bad hair day

I have been away from here. My excuse is that I have been visiting family, friends and a conference, as well as seeing my not very well mother again. Then my laptop fell ill and was in intensive care for a long time (a bit like my mother!), and now it is functioning at half its former level (just like my mother!)

So, this post is all about today - I hope it will amuse you...

As I work part-time, it was meant to be a day off, so I had about 20 tasks to perform to keep me busy. First though, I suddenly remembered a doctor's appointment, and rushed out of the house at nine to get there. I have made a pledge not to drive when the distance is less than a mile or so, so I walked (in the lightly falling rain). By the time I got to the practice, I was soaking wet (despite the waterproofs), so I announced myself and waited with the other ten or so steaming wet souls, all coughing away. I swear that if you weren't ill before you arrived in a doctor's waiting room, you will be afterwards.

A friend once said, well there are certain advantages to getting old. I responded sourly that, believe me, there are none! Bits fall off you, you get short of breath and before you know where you are, you need a new hip to walk with, new glasses to see with, new aids to hear with and a blue pill to keep your erection going for a couple of hours. Some things are cheaper - like I now get free bus travel (but, in 30 years I have only once taken a public bus, so why do I need a free pass?), I can get 10% off screws in B&Q (but I hate DIY, so why do I want to queue up with all the other grey-hairs on a Wednesday for paint, wallpaper and light bulbs?), and I get 30% off rail travel (actually, I like this because I can read a book on a train, which beats looking at the car in front's licence plate while queued up for hours on the motorway).

Anyway, the doctor saw me 1/2 hour late. He was full of apologies and was clearly having a bad day, so I let him off (having spent the last half hour composing a stinging letter complaining about doctor's appointment times being a work of fiction).

I asked him if he had the right Kevin Jones up on the computer screen. There is a reason for this: the last time I went in, I saw a different doctor, who seemed rather surprised at seeing me looking so fit and healthy, and mumbled something about the wrong notes being up, and I was clearly not the person whose details she was looking at. The doctor today laughed, and explained that the other Kevin Jones was dead, and his post-mortem details had been attached to my entry in the database for a while! I assured him I was still alive, which he agreed with (using his medical knowledge), and we got on with the consultation. Apparently I have high cholesterol and high blood pressure, so I need to cut down on all the things I love, like cheese, chocolate and viagra! Not a good moment.

Oh well, semi-skimmed milk and lots of fruit for me from now on. I walked out into the now pouring rain and made my way home. Damn! I had left in such a rush my keys were inside, but my wife wasn't. She had also left her mobile phone inside, but I left a message on it just for luck. She had a day off, so wasn't at work, so I guessed she might have gone shopping. We don't leave a spare set of keys with a neighbour (I will change that situation today!), so I had to set off in the now tropical downpour to find a cafe, a paper and a warm corner to sit out the morning.

I now know what it feels like to be a down-and-out. I was soaked to the skin, but the cafe was fine and I read the local paper from cover to cover, did the sudoku, read the notes about my new diet, and at one o'clock I ordered a nice creamy curry for lunch (condemned man's last meal). As the curry arrived, my wife phoned to say she had picked up my message (I had left messages all over the county for her, so at last someone had told her I needed help). I finished the curry, she picked me up, gave me my keys and I went in for a hot bath, cup of cocoa, pipe and slippers (well, maybe the cocoa, pipe and slippers are an exaggeration!) Needless to say, the 20 tasks I had scheduled for today won't all get done.

To add insult to injury, when I phoned my mistress to tell her about all this, she thought it was hilarious. I pointed out I might just have a heart attack whilst we were making love, and she told me that if I did, she would load me into the back of her car and tip me over the nearest cliff... Oh well, I'll just have to come back to haunt her!

In the heat of the night

Please leave your message after the tone...

Hi mistress, I just thought I'd call you while your mobile's switched off, first to say thank you for such a wonderful day yesterday... And just to let you know that I am alone in my bedroom, naked, and feeling very very horny tonight...

I am imagining they are your hands on my body, playing with my cock and cradling my balls and making me feel so good, and getting me sooo hard now... I was all alone at work today and wishing you could come in to see me. I thought about which desk I would take you over, about how I would pull down your jeans and pants in one quick, rough movement, bend you forward, push your head down on the desk, make you spread your legs wide apart and then, dropping my jeans so that they were piled sleazily on the floor by my feet, I would take you without any finesse, just thrusting into your warm moist pussy.

I'm thinking of your pussy now... I was looking again at the pictures you texted me last week and just looking at your beautiful pierced nipple and then at your wonderful pierced, shaved pussy, I started to get hard, which is why I am leaving this message...

Oh that feels so good, just thinking about those pics, just thinking about being inside you, thrusting so deep... Oh yes, I am sooo hard, so incredibly hard now, it won't be long, oh fuck yes, I'm going to cum soon, oh yes, oh my god yes, oh that is sooo good, oh my GOD I'M CUMMING... oh fuck oh fuck, that is so good, just imagining being inside you... oh yes, all that cum going everywhere, I'll have to clean it up before my wife gets in... wow

You have ten seconds... beeeeeeeeeeeep

I'm back again...

This is such a strange post for me. I've been away, due to a family crisis. My mother has been very ill, and we are trying desperately to ensure she retains her independence whilst accepting that some parts of her life may change. Having handed the baton over to another member of the family, I can take up the blog with renewed vigour - this HNT is called 'Through the looking glass!'

Today I went to mistress's home and we lay in the bed, holding each other, just hugging and being together. I had not realised how close we were, and how much I could talk to her about my life and the family and emotional problems, and she listened. Sometimes that can seem trite, but in the place where I am now, it is important to have someone I can talk to, other than my wife. I don't open up to many people, but it seems so natural.

Later we made love, slowly and tenderly, more interested in looking into each other's eyes than in the sex itself, although that must have played a part, of course! We made love this way for over an hour, with her cumming over and over. Then, and this is the strangest thing, I wasn't sure if I'd cum. I had, seemingly gallons of it, but there was hardly any sensation. A new, and not very welcome experience. Maybe the emotional roller coaster that I've been on during the last few weeks has taken away my sensitivity in some way, but it was such a strange feeling, not knowing.

I need a holiday!

I am shocked

I don’t really do serious posts, but something happened last week that shocked me. The prime minister finally apologised to the family of Alan Turing. Not many people have heard of Alan Turing, but he was a brilliant mathematician who worked at Bletchley on cracking the Nazi codes. In fact he was (despite Hollywood’s attempts to change history) one of those responsible for cracking the Enigma code and so helped save thousands of lives of mariners who would otherwise have been sunk in the North Atlantic by U-Boats.

According to Wikipedia, “In 1999 Time Magazine named Turing as one of the 100 Most Important People of the 20th Century for his role in the creation of the modern computer. His Turing test was a significant and characteristically provocative contribution to the debate regarding artificial intelligence.”

So far, so boring. Alan was homosexual and, in 1952 he met a young man, and eventually (after a few meetings) took him home and slept with him. This was consensual sex between two consenting adults. The man he picked up told an acquaintance about the contents of Alan’s house, and the acquaintance then burgled the premises and stole some of Alan’s property. Alan reported the burglary to the police, and asked them to arrest the men involved.

The British police knew their duty. They questioned Alan, discovered his relationship and decided it was far more important to prosecute him for gross indecency, than to prosecute the thief and his accomplice for burglary. Alan admitted the crime and was given a choice between prison and chemical castration. He chose the castration. Two years later he committed suicide.

I am absolutely shocked that my country was such a repressed, backward society that this could happen, just a few years ago. If it had happened in the 19th Century, I could accept it, but in the 1950s? And why has it taken so long for the powers-that-be to acknowledge what a crime against humanity this represented?

Why does this bother me? Because homosexuality was still illegal until 1966, when the law was changed. A year or two before then I guess I must have committed some acts of gross indecency with a few male school friends. Not only was the act illegal, but we were under any kind of age of consent. We were just having fun, of course, playing with each others’ cocks, masturbating together and making each other cum. I have fond memories of doing it. Some boys were caught and got into no end of trouble with the school authorities, although the matter was pretty much swept under the carpet to avoid scandal. I kept my head down, so to speak, and avoided any serious trouble.

Boring, I know, but I had to get this off my chest!

HNT - If my mirror could speak (2)

Happy HNT. Yesterday, we both took time out to walk in the countryside. The sun was hot, the views were stunning and we were relaxed in eachother's company. We talked, we teased, we walked. At lunch time we found an out of the way hotel serving food and we stopped there for a couple of hours, talking, relaxing in the sun and chilling together. We were happy. It was a magical day. It felt so right to be together, enjoying the moment, without even thinking about sex, not even open air sex (well, we thought about it, but too many others were enjoying the all too rare sunshine). At last we had to part and drive back to our own lives, but the memory will be etched into my brain forever. In a few weeks we will have been together for a year! That nearly didn't happen, but I will tell you about it next time...

Text, sex and guilt

Her: Sitting bull has left his teepee
Me: Running bare will be there in 30 to steal from his honeypot
Her: The door's open, just come straight in. I'm naked in bed

I went straight in and walked into the bedroom. She was smiling. Without a word, I slowly undressed, pretending to be masterful and strong, but she was impatient and took my cock in her mouth before my jeans were off. I didn't complain. It had been at least a couple of weeks and we had missed eachother. When I finally managed to finish undressing, we wanted to touch eachother, to feel the skin, the nakedness, the having, the holding and the cuddling. I had expected our joint mood to be rampant with urgent hot sex, but it was more like love-making and rediscovery. Her insecurities came out.

"I wasn't sure if you would still want me... You didn't text me while you were away..."

I did, but not often. The family was all around me. Guilt, laced with pleasure, went through my mind. We laughed, we chatted, but right at the very back of my mind are some difficult thoughts. When I'm with her, it is fun, she makes me feel incredibly good about myself, she makes me laugh and she makes me feel young. We have a lot in common - love of walking, love of nature, love of good food.

When I'm at home, I feel as though I'm with someone 20 years older, who moves so slowly, with attitudes of an older generation. Wife and I do have a lot in common still, including family and friends. But she is growing old before my eyes and I find myself getting eaten up with impatience at her slow pace: in making simple decisions, even in walking to the car. I know I am being unfair and hypercritical, and I know we all slow down, I know I am slower than I was 20 or 30 years ago - even ten years a go - and that this change comes to us all and I am lucky to be healthy and strong when many men of my age are suiffering heart attacks, impotence, enlarged prostates and the rest. But, I am simply not ready for my pipe and slippers yet!

We made love over and over - I discovered a new tender place that felt incredibly good for her, and I made her feel good about herself. She does look incredibly beautiful when she is happy - it shines through her smile and fills her face. I love to tell her that, and she loves being told. But, how long can this last? Do I really want it to last? I have no idea. In a month's time, we will have been together for a year, and are we becoming too familiar with eachother and our respective lives? I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. I will work it out over time.

When I came, it was explosive, noisy on my part and incredibly satisfying. I felt as though I nearly passed out, it was so good. I guess all the blood drained from my brain into my cock (she said my cock really swelled up inside her, before I came, which tipped her over the edge, too), and left very little for cognitive funtions! We cuddled and had to part, going back to our real lives.

Me: That was fantastic. Thank you for an amazing start to the weekend.
Her: Mmmm all part of the service sir.

Been away

I have been away, visiting family and then taking a break with wife at a lovely romatic hotel on the coast. It really was a fantastic establichment with amazing rooms and a wonderful 6 feet wide bed. Such a shame it was wife I was with and not mistress. Yes, we did have sex of a sort but I was thinking of mistress the whole time (well, maybe not wuite the whole time, but that's what I told her).

Back to normality this week - we are meeting again on Friday after a two week break. We had a great phone conversation today and she was laughing the whole time, so I think things are still good between us.

A (nearly) shag in a shed

“Would you like lunch?”
“Yes, please, and maybe a little dessert...”
I left her to the customers while I fetched something to eat from the local bakery. When I returned, I was amused by the way she handled the customers, with skill and good humour. They would return, just like I would.
“I’ll put the tea on.”
We ate and drank, chatting and playing footsy in her office, half an eye on any new customers.
“I have a job for you,” she said. “Heavy lifting. I don’t do lifting.”
“I’m just here for my muscles, eh? All that talk about dessert, and all you want is a labourer!”
We went to the shed and I lifted the 20 kg bag up for her to its new home. She tidied up and we looked at each other. The sexual tension was palpable.
“I’ve missed you...” We kissed. We ran our hands over the contours of our bodies. We kissed again, deeply, roughly. It was clear that I was pleased to see her, and, judging by the state of her nipples, even through a bra and top, it was clear the feeling was mutual. We kissed and fondled and felt. She was wet, very wet. I was hard, very hard. With my fingers, I made her cum quickly, a sordid act in amongst the dirt and spiders’ webs of the shed. My cock was standing fully to attention, revelling in the attention it was receiving from her hands after a barren weekend. In another few seconds I would have turned her round and entered her for the quick shag we both craved...
“Customers,” I whispered. I could see a middle aged couple through the window. In two seconds flat, my trousers were zipped up, and my fleece too, artfully covering up my rock hard, enormous erection. She kicked her knickers under the table, adjusted her skirt and went out to meet them.
“Good afternoon, can I help you at all?”
“Oh, yes, please. We need a bit of advice...”
I left her to it. “Don’t forget the knickers,” I whispered as I walked (well, limped really, with my erection acting as an unusual impediment to my normal brisk gait) past her.

What next?

Out of the blue, the possibility of a threesome came up. Now, I had carefully avoided the subject ever since mistress felt I was pressurising her too much in this direction. Actually, I think what happened was that a lady she had done it with before, and with whom she had renewed contact, had suddenly disappeared off the radar, and so nothing was going to happen, and so she was disappointed, and took it out on me. That was a couple of months ago, at least.

Suddenly, last week, she mentioned the landlady of a pub she has started going to with her husband, who seems to be giving off some very good vibrations, and could be 'bi'. She seems to be getting very friendly with mistress, and stands rather closer to her than would be normal sometimes, so maybe something will happen. Mistress seems to be very pro the idea of doing it with her, so I shall have to pop in and take a look at her myself some time (when mistress and husband will definitely not be there), just to see how the land lies.

Independently to this, I sent one of my exes the link to this video http://www.redtube.com/15878, with a brief note saying I wished I had seen this before, and maybe we could have tried it out together... She emailed back, with a chatty note about how things are with her marriage (as bad as ever) and with her boyfriend (very good) and asking how I was, etc. So I wrote back and explained my current situation and said we were considering doing a threesome. She responded, not by offering to join us (shame - I would have liked that!), but saying she and her current boyfriend had tried it a few times, thoroughly enjoyed it, and she recommended it. Watch this space, I reckon, and enjoy the HNT.

Jealousy

I am not sure where this post is going, but I'll write down my thoughts anyway. I am not very good at introspection.

Some weeks ago, I made some kind of thoughtless off the cuff remark to mistress about rogering the wife at the weekend. Yes, crass, I know. She was furious, clearly jealous about the fact that I was still having sex with my wife, and I had to back pedal and win her back round. Weeks later, she explained that she hadn't been jealous of the fact that my wife and I still make love occasionally, but that she was jealous of the fact I was going to have sex of some kind that weekend when she knew she wouldn't. I don't believe that story, so I have been very careful ever since not even to hint at the fact that my wife and I do still occasionally indulge. Sex with my wife is not great, it's very predictable and boring, but I still enjoy the intimacy, and if we didn't do it now and again she (wife) would know something was wrong.

By the same token, I know mistress occasionally has sex with her husband. She has explained it to me, apologetically, along the lines of if she didn't, he would know something was wrong because he knows she has a very high sex drive. Again, it sounds predictable, boring and not very good for her. I totally understand that, and don't feel at all jealous about it. (I feel envious of him, sharing the same bed as her every night, with her feeling so horny all the time, but that's another matter...)

So, why did I get so upset (and I tried very hard not to show it) when she told me what a good lover he was in the past? It's insane. I know he had a lot of experience with women, far more than me, and seems to have had a master touch, to the extent that he was almost certainly the best lover she had ever met, until his sex drive took a deep dive a couple of years ago. He once made her cum 250 times in one long weekend. I know numbers don't matter, and quality is more important than quantity, etc., etc., but I am insanely jealous of his abilities, the bastard.

I don't often get jealous of other people, but this has the capability of eating me up if I don't stamp on it, hard. I know perfectly well I am offering her something totally different, a tenderness and understanding that he won't ever give her in a million years because he is so self absorbed and selfish, the bastard. Did I mention I don't like him, even though I've never met the bastard?

I also know, sadly, that our relationship is doomed to end eventually, because it is unsustainable in the very long run. In a year's time, when my wife retires from work, I have no idea how we are going to meet, because she is forever questioning me about my movements, what I am going to do each day, and so on. If she's permanently at home, it will be difficult to get away for a few hours each week, to say the least.

I shall have to work it all through. Meanwhile, mistress and I have been unable to meet recently because of holidays, visitors and pressure of work. Tomorrow, for the first time in a fortnight, I will be able to call on her at work for an hour, but sex will be out of the question :(

If mirrors could speak, what would they say?

She went down on me, taking me in her mouth, squeezing me, sucking me, bringing me over time to a full erection. The sensations took me to another world, a place where pleasure was the sole reason for existence. I reached down and found the smooth curve of her backside, touchable, strokeable. But my thoughts went further, and I stretched, finding her slick, warm wetness. I wetted my fingers at her well, then withdrew them, finding her other, tighter orifice, and moistened it. I did the same again, this time probing it with a single finger, that slid in easily. On the third trip, she looked up from what she was doing and smiled.
“Are you prepping me?” she asked.
My mouth was dry. “Yes,” I whispered in return.

She invited me wordlessly, turning her arse towards me on the bed, on all fours, like a bitch on heat, aching for me to take her in that illicit hole. I was already aroused but now I felt as though my cock was going to burst through sheer unadulterated lust. Hands shaking, I took the lube and applied it liberally to the forbidden crack between her cheeks and slowly worked my finger in, then a second finger. She stayed still, allowing me to give full play to my lusting, until I knew we were both ready. I moved up close, spread her cheeks wide and slowly placed my cock head at the entrance, slowly push it forwards at her tightness, withdrew, then tried again, each time gaining a millimetre of entry. At last, the entrance was eased open for me and I was finally inside, feeling like an intruder who had made a forced entrance into the house of his dreams, feeling dazed, wanting the moment of indescribable pleasure to last and last. I looked down and wondered at the pornographic sight of my cock sliding slowly in and out of her arse.

No matter how often we do this, it still seems a prohibited act, as though I am breaking a taboo for the first time, mixed emotions and feelings racing through my mind, this is a forbidden act in a forbidden relationship, and made more extreme because she gets as much pleasure from it as I do.

I can’t hold back. The hole is so tight and I am so excited that I have to give in to my animal instinct and fuck, fuck, fuck, not caring if it’s good for her, because it is so good for me, until that moment when my cock swells even more and explodes deep inside her belly, spurting until I am completely empty.

I am out of breath, sweat pouring from both our bodies, still locked together by her sphincter muscle, collapsed, holding each other for that long moment until we can trust ourselves to speak...

Viagra and Cialis

I am going to conduct some experiments. I have used Viagra for a couple of years - not every time I have sex with a mistress, but often (OK, a lot). It is reassuring, because things stay up when they should and don't deflate until the end, and it feels really jolly to strut around the room with an amazing stiffy. The trouble is the side effects. Half an hour after ingesting the blue pill, I hear a rushing noise in my ears (which makes the tinnitus worse), feel my face flushing and I start to get a headache. I also get thirsty, so I need a drink. The trouble with that is, the liquid rushes through my kidneys and I need to pee, sometimes at awkward moments. Guys, have you ever tried to pee with an erection that refuses to lie down? It's bloody hard, and that's the problem, it is bloody hard. I haven't quite perfected the art of doing a handstand on the toilet seat, but I'm getting there. Then, after we have parted (having kissed and cuddled for ages in the way that Cheri and Rainy like), I go to work or whatever else I'm doing, in a very weird state. I'm knackered, my body feels like it's had a tough old workout (which it usually has), there's a buzzing in my ears, I have a bright red face and a splitting headache. Oh, and an inane grin on my face, and a strange scent about my mouth and nose. And I keep sniffing my fingers.

Something has to be done. I tried Cialis last week. Trouble is, I took it too late, and it didn't really have the desired effect at the time. But at least I didn't have a headache afterwards, although for days I kept getting random erections at night, something that hasn't happened for years. And I got sort of mini increases of blood supply during the day, so I felt really confident standing in men's urinals: instead of hiding my organ in my hand I could stand back and let everybody see my larger than usual 'flaccid' member. Smug face here.

Mistress has her family visiting this week, so I shall have to contain my eagerness. I shall work on the timing of taking Cialis and let you know my conclusions... Strictly in the interests of scientific investigation of course.

Thursday is HNT, and I have a few nice pictures for you :)

Getting older

I'm back, following a fantastic interlude spent with my family. I had some lovely conversations with my daughter in law (she is like a daughter to us) and some great chats and banter with son, daughter and her partner. And I got to know my grandchild. Wow. We went out for a great meal together (sadly, wife was ill, but for some reason, that made the whole meal experience much more relaxed - I don't know why! Maybe I need to think about that...) And of course we celebrated a big birthday. I won't reveal which one, but if you've read this blog with the attention it deserves, you will know. OK, OK, I went out and got my B&Q diamond card if you still don't get it...

But the birthday fuck never came (so to speak) and it was left to mistress to administer the first fuck of my new life as an official oldie. That was great. When she answered the door, she was wearing, if that's the word, a tiny pink number, and I obviously didn't like it because I took it off within a couple of minutes of seeing her. I think she had missed me, because she was very wet. Mmm and she tasted sooo good too. We made love and we cuddled. Well, there is more to it than that. I was all fired up after seeing a fantastic new video that serialmistress had found at redtube www.redtube.com/15878 I am always up for learning new stuff (it's supposed to ward off dementia, if I remember correctly), so I tried that technique out... well it worked pretty well, so that's another one in my armoury, kind of.

We held each other for a long time. She'd had a bad couple of weeks and needed cuddling and holding, needed to feel safe and secure and, above all, loved. It's tough to realise that the person you thought you loved and knew, and then married, has a different, very arrogant and nasty side to him. She unburdened all that to me and I was there. Their marriage is not irretrievable, but it needs working on. I am not in a position to offer advice, but I can listen. LOL and I do listen, not in a "yes, dear, that sounds interesting, but I'm drifting off to a different world" way, although I have been known to do that, but in a caring and understanding way. Well, OK, I'm not that caring and understanding, but I have my moments. Now and again.

She said that we've never been on a proper date, so we'll have to rectify that one soon. The trouble is, I am fairly well known in this county, by a lot of people whom I don't know and I am occasionally greeted by people I am sure I've never seen before, but who definitely know who I am! It makes going to public places quite dangerous, really. She will have to masquerade as my cousin... Do cousins play footsy under the table and French kiss between courses?

Why do I blog?

I am asking this question of myself because I had the opportunity to be in Heidi's article in the Independent (see http://serialmistress.blogspot.com/ and follow the link to the article). I turned it down and I'm glad I did. Infidelity blogs as this genre is called is coming under scrutiny apparently, and the outrage we bloggers are causing is something to be seen to be believed - just read the comments and outpouring of bile that followed the article itself.

In a way, I feel more guilty about writing this blog (because a lot of it is about my mistress, and she doesn't know about it) than about being unfaithful to my wife (who, of course, doesn't know about my mistress or most of my other affairs). I used to feel waves of guilt about being unfaithful, and would close down my account on IE and try very hard to be faithful. It (the guilt) sometimes lasted for six months or more. The fact is, though, my wife has lost most of her interest in sex and the once a fortnight thing is simply not enough for me, and I need, I physically crave the tender touch of someone and the wild sex, the loving moments, and the opportunities to share jokes and romance with someone else. The fact is, I never even considered being unfaithful until about ten years ago, i.e. until after we had been married for nearly 30 years!

Now for a confession. Back in the early 1990s, I kept track of how many times we made love, because we seemed to be well above the national average LOL. In 1996, we were aged 45/46 (and had been married for over 25 years), and we had 'normal' sex 87 times, anal sex 3 times, she gave me a hand job 8 times (usually when she had a period) and I masturbated on my own a whopping 47 times. I'm quite proud of that. We really did have a great, functioning marriage. I promise, I do not keep that kind of a diary any more. Really. I don't.

Fast forward 13 years and we will probably have 'normal' sex 25 times this year if I'm lucky. I can't remember when we last did anal, nor when she last wanted me to do oral on her. I try, I really do try to do the romantic things and the fun things, but the fact is her interest in sex has fallen off a cliff. My libido is obviously less than it was, but I crave the closeness and the physicality of sex and touching another human being. We are very supportive of each other in many ways, and I do love her dearly, but I am not ready for the proverbial pipe and slippers just yet. She may have transited from sex and shopping to god and gardening, but I haven't!

So, am I proud of my infidelity? No. Why do I blog about it? Because I can't tell anyone else my thoughts and feelings. I need to write it down and a diary is too dangerous. Am I truthful in my blog? Yes. Obviously, I sometimes cannot remember exactly what I said and did on a particular day some months ago, so I might elaborate the details, but I try to catch the mood of the day. These days the blog is mostly very current, so that doesn't apply.

My family is coming to stay for a couple of weeks, so I will not be able to blog for that time, nor will I be able to comment on others' blogs, so please forgive my silence. After that, I shall return refreshed and reinvigorated, so look out!

Time for something different

I strode masterfully up to the front of the house, peremptorily rang the chimes and went all weak at the knees when she opened the door, dressed, if that's the right word, in something very short, red and low cut. It was obvious she wore nothing else, but I investigated anyway and was rewarded by the feel of wetness... mmm a lot of wetness. "Would you like a coffee?" she asked, all innocence and non-melting butter. I can't remember what I replied, but we went through to the kitchen, where I regained my composure and kissed her hard at the kitchen sink. My fingers made her cum, and again and again, while we kissed, deeply and urgently. I turned her round, forced her legs apart pushed her face down so that her by now bare breasts were squashed against the cold slate working surface, undid my belt and jeans, and slid into her soft moist warm pussy from behind. She soon came again, twice, before I withdrew. "Wow," she said, "that was a real knee trembler, I can hardly stand up! Shall we go into the bedroom?"

We undressed and made love again, more slowly this time. Afterwards, she went down on me and I stroked her hair as she took me to a far away land of ecstasy. Just before the moment came, I withdrew from her, roughly turned her over onto all fours and mounted her like a lustful animal. In the words of the old joke, we did it doggy style for half an hour, but in human time it was probably more like four minutes, before I came, noisily, strongly, gushingly...

We held each other in silence for a long time, enjoying the silence and the closeness. She was sated, I was sated. Eventually, we started talking, about anything and everything, including love, sex, politics, equal opportunities, and anything else we thought of. Our allotted 2 1/2 hours soon vanished and we had to part.

I strode masterfully into the office, a very smug smile on my face. I dumped my briefcase and went into the gents, and went cold when I saw my face "OMFG," I breathed, there was lipstick on my collar. Ten minutes with soap and water, and then I had to turn the collar artfully in on itself to hide the evidence. The vanishing soap bar at home would be getting a bashing later, I thought.

I never did have that coffee, but who cares?