For context, please read postings starting from the first one, 'The beginnings,'
Norma, my wife, has a career as demanding as mine. She came home from work on Friday, tired and stressed. I suggested she should relax over the weekend. I did the shopping and cooked, Saturday and Sunday. Sunday afternoon, we made love for a couple of hours. Being a man with a number of lovers, I never fantasise about being with another woman when I am making love to Norma. I enjoy her and she me.
On Friday while at work, I received a text from Kate. Kate and I became lovers 11 years ago when her marriage was breaking up. We had many romantic times, She knew I would never leave Norma, but over the years, she has made it clear that if I should ever leave Norma, she wanted first refusal. Six months ago, she phoned me to say she had moved in with her new man and that we were no longer lovers. A month ago, she sent me a text from her holiday abroad, saying that it was such a romantic setting and how much she missed my ‘hugs.’ ‘Hugs’ is a euphemism. Kate is very highly sexed, but never uses any explicit words. Everything is couched in romance, which I find delightful. The text went on to say that her new man was perfect in every way, except that he needn’t like the physical side very much.
Her text on Friday simply said, ‘I miss your hugs and kisses more than you will ever know.’ Since her new man came on the scene, Kate has asked me never to text or phone out of working hours. I sent the reply on the way to the office this morning, saying that we need to talk. I have no crystal ball, but in all probability Kate and I will be in ‘bed’ before many weeks or days are past. I put the word ‘bed’ in inverted commas because a fair proportion of our love making has been in the open air or in a car. Her office and mine are a stone’s throw away from each other and we are only a short drive from some woodland.
Sex in such circumstances has hardly been romantic. On one occasion, she ran a couple of hundred yards into the trees, pulled her knickers down, threw up her skirt at the back, took hold of a tree trunk, bent forward and waited for me to oblige her. There was a certain comedy about it. Though turned on, we laughed a lot.
So, she misses my ‘hugs.’ Watch this space.
Monday, 30 June 2008
Thursday, 26 June 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, 24 June 2008
Then Came Jaqui
After almost eighteen months of marriage, I was still very happy. Sex was good, but I had the hots much of the time and began to be occupied by the thought of making love to other women. The frustration at times was unbearable. Then my chance came. My wife, Norma, was a Guide leader and went off for a week on annual camp. I saw her off at the railway station and then made a tour of bars in the city centre, drinking soft drinks, looking for a woman with similar needs to mine. It was turning out to be a dismal failure. I went home and then went out in the evening again to continue.
I had read in a local paper that a certain neighbourhood in our city had the biggest proportion of single mothers in Europe. Early evening, I set off on a tour of pubs in that area, looking for women I could chat up. My logic was probably false, namely if there were lots of single mothers, the people in the neighbourhood were liberal about sex.
It was a miserable start to the evening. I had taken a newspaper to read in the pubs and read it over and over again. I was about to give up when a woman walked into the bar. She wore a wedding ring and was carrying a book. I deduced that she had brought a book because she was to be alone. The landlady knew her as well as others. She was Jaqui.
She sat at a table adjacent to me and put her book on the table. I can’t remember much of the conversation, but it went something along the lines of my saying, ‘That’s the problem when you come out for a drink alone – you have to take something to read.’
Somewhere in the conversation I told her that my wife was away with the Guides. She said something like, ‘While the cat’s away.’ I think I said, ‘Pardon,’ getting her to explain. She replied something like, ‘While she’s away, you can go out for a drink.’ I cannot believe my forwardness, especially as I had had no alcohol to drink, but I said something like, ‘While the cat’s away, my bed is very empty.’ I blush now at my forwardness, but I was driven to it by sheer sexual frustration.
Before closing time, she had quietly told me her address. I couldn’t write it down, because it would arouse suspicion. I had to memorise it. She asked me to wait at least fifteen minutes and then come round to the back door. It was down a dark ally, but I found it.
Jaqui was two years older than me, shoulder length dark hair, with a lovely figure not dissimilar to my wife’s. Her husband was at sea. She seemed more on heat than I and we made love for hours. She was on the pill. This was a fairly new drug, something of which my wife was suspicious. I was young and energetic. We kept going almost till dawn. I returned most evenings while my wife was away.
When Norma returned, love making with her seemed even better. However, communication between Jaqui and me was difficult. No mobile phones and no Internet in those days. The previous occupier of my house was William Osborn. Quite a lot of mail came for him which I redirected. I asked Jaqui to keep in touch by writing to me, addressing the envelope to William C Osborne. The letter’C’ indicated that the letter was for me. My wife would be unsuspecting. Jaqui wrote regular sexual fantasies and also communicated when her husband would be at sea. However, love making on future occasions was usually over in an hour, on a Tuesday evening – Guide night and then only when her husband was away.
Jaqui loved her husband and I loved Norma, but for two years, we were lovers. It genuinely enhanced our marriages, but came to an end when Jaqui’s husband took a land job so that they could start a family.
During the two years that she was my lover, I had times of agonizing guilt. Part of me believed what I was doing was wrong. I occasionally went to see a priest. It was always the same. I would be absolved, feel better, and then the urges would start over again.
One day, I went with Norma to a Guide’s church parade service. The Ten Commandments were read out. When the line about adultery was read, I went bright red and thought that everyone could see me. More of guilt in my next contribution…
I had read in a local paper that a certain neighbourhood in our city had the biggest proportion of single mothers in Europe. Early evening, I set off on a tour of pubs in that area, looking for women I could chat up. My logic was probably false, namely if there were lots of single mothers, the people in the neighbourhood were liberal about sex.
It was a miserable start to the evening. I had taken a newspaper to read in the pubs and read it over and over again. I was about to give up when a woman walked into the bar. She wore a wedding ring and was carrying a book. I deduced that she had brought a book because she was to be alone. The landlady knew her as well as others. She was Jaqui.
She sat at a table adjacent to me and put her book on the table. I can’t remember much of the conversation, but it went something along the lines of my saying, ‘That’s the problem when you come out for a drink alone – you have to take something to read.’
Somewhere in the conversation I told her that my wife was away with the Guides. She said something like, ‘While the cat’s away.’ I think I said, ‘Pardon,’ getting her to explain. She replied something like, ‘While she’s away, you can go out for a drink.’ I cannot believe my forwardness, especially as I had had no alcohol to drink, but I said something like, ‘While the cat’s away, my bed is very empty.’ I blush now at my forwardness, but I was driven to it by sheer sexual frustration.
Before closing time, she had quietly told me her address. I couldn’t write it down, because it would arouse suspicion. I had to memorise it. She asked me to wait at least fifteen minutes and then come round to the back door. It was down a dark ally, but I found it.
Jaqui was two years older than me, shoulder length dark hair, with a lovely figure not dissimilar to my wife’s. Her husband was at sea. She seemed more on heat than I and we made love for hours. She was on the pill. This was a fairly new drug, something of which my wife was suspicious. I was young and energetic. We kept going almost till dawn. I returned most evenings while my wife was away.
When Norma returned, love making with her seemed even better. However, communication between Jaqui and me was difficult. No mobile phones and no Internet in those days. The previous occupier of my house was William Osborn. Quite a lot of mail came for him which I redirected. I asked Jaqui to keep in touch by writing to me, addressing the envelope to William C Osborne. The letter’C’ indicated that the letter was for me. My wife would be unsuspecting. Jaqui wrote regular sexual fantasies and also communicated when her husband would be at sea. However, love making on future occasions was usually over in an hour, on a Tuesday evening – Guide night and then only when her husband was away.
Jaqui loved her husband and I loved Norma, but for two years, we were lovers. It genuinely enhanced our marriages, but came to an end when Jaqui’s husband took a land job so that they could start a family.
During the two years that she was my lover, I had times of agonizing guilt. Part of me believed what I was doing was wrong. I occasionally went to see a priest. It was always the same. I would be absolved, feel better, and then the urges would start over again.
One day, I went with Norma to a Guide’s church parade service. The Ten Commandments were read out. When the line about adultery was read, I went bright red and thought that everyone could see me. More of guilt in my next contribution…
Monday, 23 June 2008
The Beginnings
At the age of nine, I was with my parents at the sea side. They gave me a few pennies to play on slot machines in an arcade. I was intrigued by a viewing machine, ‘What the Butler Saw.’ I put in a penny, and, standing on my tip toes, looked through the viewer. The pictures of naked women must have been from the 1920s, if not earlier. A sensation not previously known to me overcame me – sexual arousal. It was the most pleasant feeling I had known to date. It beat chocolate, ice cream and any Christmas present. I had my first erection and it was unbearably pleasant.
I returned to the viewer a number of times on that and future holidays. By the time I was 11 years old, there were two girls in my class whom I fancied. In gymn classes, we practiced hand stands. One child did a hand stand, while another caught hold of his or her legs. One day, I partnered the girl I fancied. She did the hand stand. Her skirt fell down over her head and I looked down at her barely covered crotch. From then I seemed destined to seek the pleasure of the opposite sex.
It was then a regular occurrence for me to go to bed early and imagine being with ‘Tina’ the girl I fancied. I read in my parents’ Sunday paper how it is possible to have an out of body experience, transporting one’s soul from the body to any place one chose. I am sure it never happened, but my imagination was strong enough for me to believe that I transported myself to Tina’s bed room, and could see Tina getting undressed.
I practiced such fantasies for years. Pictures of half naked women, even women in swim suits were used, too. When I was 12 or 13, I had my first real orgasm when playing with myself. The pleasure, as this gooey white stuff came, was immense.
The problem with sex fantasies was that I went to mass. The priest preached against lust, ‘Who ever looks at a woman unto lust has committed adultery with her.’ I was racked with guilt half the time. The other half of the time, I was turn on and pleasured myself.
Then I, at the age of 17, I got myself a girl friend. We spent hours kissing. I was on heat while doing so and, I later discovered so was she, but there was no sexual contact for six months. And then, while her parents’ were out, and we were entwined on the settee, having been kissing for hours, I touched her breast. It was breathtaking for both of us. She said that she now knew that I loved her, because ‘You have such high principles, that you would never do that to a girl you didn’t love.’
Within a couple of days, she had had her hand down my trousers, and I a hand inside her knickers. The feelings of pleasure were indescribably wonderful.
Full blown sex came within a month or so, but both of us went on guilt trips, regularly. I looked young for my age and found it difficult and embarrassing to buy condoms, but more than once, I bottled out and bought something else.
I went to university at the age of eighteen and was separated from her by a distance of many miles. I had the urge to make a pass at other girls, but I refrained.
We married when I was 24. Sex was fantastic and often, but as good as it was I soon began to feel the need to spread my seed further. I was still in love with her, but the thought of having it with another woman was becoming almost too much to bear. Eighteen months after marriage, I had my first extra-marital encounter.
I returned to the viewer a number of times on that and future holidays. By the time I was 11 years old, there were two girls in my class whom I fancied. In gymn classes, we practiced hand stands. One child did a hand stand, while another caught hold of his or her legs. One day, I partnered the girl I fancied. She did the hand stand. Her skirt fell down over her head and I looked down at her barely covered crotch. From then I seemed destined to seek the pleasure of the opposite sex.
It was then a regular occurrence for me to go to bed early and imagine being with ‘Tina’ the girl I fancied. I read in my parents’ Sunday paper how it is possible to have an out of body experience, transporting one’s soul from the body to any place one chose. I am sure it never happened, but my imagination was strong enough for me to believe that I transported myself to Tina’s bed room, and could see Tina getting undressed.
I practiced such fantasies for years. Pictures of half naked women, even women in swim suits were used, too. When I was 12 or 13, I had my first real orgasm when playing with myself. The pleasure, as this gooey white stuff came, was immense.
The problem with sex fantasies was that I went to mass. The priest preached against lust, ‘Who ever looks at a woman unto lust has committed adultery with her.’ I was racked with guilt half the time. The other half of the time, I was turn on and pleasured myself.
Then I, at the age of 17, I got myself a girl friend. We spent hours kissing. I was on heat while doing so and, I later discovered so was she, but there was no sexual contact for six months. And then, while her parents’ were out, and we were entwined on the settee, having been kissing for hours, I touched her breast. It was breathtaking for both of us. She said that she now knew that I loved her, because ‘You have such high principles, that you would never do that to a girl you didn’t love.’
Within a couple of days, she had had her hand down my trousers, and I a hand inside her knickers. The feelings of pleasure were indescribably wonderful.
Full blown sex came within a month or so, but both of us went on guilt trips, regularly. I looked young for my age and found it difficult and embarrassing to buy condoms, but more than once, I bottled out and bought something else.
I went to university at the age of eighteen and was separated from her by a distance of many miles. I had the urge to make a pass at other girls, but I refrained.
We married when I was 24. Sex was fantastic and often, but as good as it was I soon began to feel the need to spread my seed further. I was still in love with her, but the thought of having it with another woman was becoming almost too much to bear. Eighteen months after marriage, I had my first extra-marital encounter.
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