The Years of Guilt

I will be adding postings from now usually on Mondays. It will help if you start reading from the first posting.

Jaquie had been my first exta-marital lover. When her husband returned to a land job and we broke off the affair, desire and sexual frustrations remained, but I felt incredibly guilty at what I had done to Norma, even though Norma didn’t know anything about it. The guilt was less of a problem when I was alone, but if, in conversation, or on TV or radio, there was any reference to infidelity, I felt as if Norma or anyone else could see my secrets. At times, I took three or four travel sickness pills – they have a soporific effect and numbed my emotions so that I would be less likely to blush if infidelity was mentioned. The guilt was so bad, I decided to get treatment for my desire to commit adultery.

The only cure I could think of was some sort of religious experience. I heard from a colleague at work that a preacher with a healing ministry lived only 20 miles away. I went to see him. He explained to me that if I confessed my sin and was truly sorry, God would wipe the slate completely clean. I prayed with him and felt an incredible burden lifted. I felt whole and clean. The adultery had been made as if it never happened.

I started going to church with my Norma, who was already a regular worshipper. I could now hear the commandments read without feeling overcome with shame, guilt and embarrassment. I no longer blushed. It was all very fine for a month or so and then my work took me away from home. I became very turned on on the train. Every half-attractive woman was a temptation. I then went into reverie, fantasing about making love to all the young women I knew. The temptations had returned with a vengeance. I saw an ad in an alternative newspaper for a ‘contact’ magazine, claiming to have the details of women who wanted sex. I sent for it and had it sent to my home, but addressed to the previous occupant. When it arrived, I re-addressed it to the previous occupant and told Norma I was going out to post it. In stead, I discarded the envelope and smuggled the magazine back into the house. I wrote to many of the women who advertised there and had a few replies, all addressed to the previous occupant.

Most replies were from prostitutes, but one clearly wasn’t. She lived on the other side of the city. We exchanged photographs and eventually arranged to meet at her house. I was still in my mid 20s and she in her 30s. She answered the door with a lovely smile, invited me into the living room. To my horror and embarrassment, there was her husband, sitting in an arm chair, watching television. They were a 1970’s ‘swinging couple’. I felt awkward, embarrassed and claustrophobic. She introduced me to him. He seemed more interested in the TV programme. She asked me if I wanted a cup of tea. There was no way I wanted to sit with the husband, so I declined. Off we went to the bedroom.

The sex was deliciously enjoyable. A friend of mine said that it takes a few weeks to get over initial awkwardness with a sex partner and to enjoy it. My experience is the opposite. The first time is always magic for me. I’m not saying that it goes down hill from there. Some of the best sex has been with established lovers, but there is always an added component of discovering a new personality, a new body, a new intimacy. I adore sex with a new partner.

The guilt returned and I bought more travel sickness pills. I made a number of liaisons through contact magazines. One of them was with two women at the other end of the country. Their husbands were working in the Gulf and they needed to get rid of their frustrations. That’s the only time I ever had a threesome. They were normal young women. Lots of people would have described them as slags or whores, but I have no doubt that they were loving wives.

My pattern was cyclical. The guilt would build up. I’d then go and get forgiven and a couple of months later, the desire would return.

There was a part of me which felt that my ‘lust’ was entirely normal. It was primeval. It was what had populated the world and kept the gene pool diverse. This is how I see things now, but it was a long road of discovery. Next posting on Monday – the art of subterfuge.