The Affair

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The word still stings.

I had an affair.


I don’t do affairs.

It’s what other people do.

I have always had high moral standards.

I have a strong religious faith.

I had never ever considered having an affair.

Yet, I did.

And I can’t say that I’m sorry.

I feel no remorse.
For a short time, I experienced the ultimate emotional, intellectual, and physical bonding a man and woman are capable of. For a short time, I experienced love in all of its aspects. For a short time, I found that real love, unconditional love, is possible and attainable. It was a, giving, emotionally fulfilling, intellectually satisfying, physically completing love. It met every need I had ever had, ever dreamed of, ever hoped for. I thought it impossible that I would ever feel in my mind, my heart, and my body what I felt with her. I experienced love in all its splendor, love how God meant it to be.

How can I be sorry for that?

Catherine is her name.

It started so innocently. Back in early January, I sent a comment to her after reading a story she posted on Literotica. I simply wrote how much I liked the story and how well-written it was.

I often write positive comments to people I think have written a great story. Sometimes I get a thank you in reply. Most often, I get no response. Of course, I don’t expect a response anyway. I just like to write words of praise and encouragement to writers for their talent.

I didn’t hear from back from her, and didn’t think any more about her.

One day, January 26 at 9:29 AM to be exact, I found an email from her in my inbox. She said she had overlooked my email and was just now writing a thank you. For some reason, I wrote back a “You’re welcome” email. She responded a few hours later and before I knew it, we were writing several times a week.

We “talked” about writing in general at first, then writing erotica specifically. She was intelligent, incisive, and easy to talk with. She had a sense of humor and a way with words. And it turned out we both had an ornery streak.

I found myself looking forward to exchanging emails with her. Eventually, a day didn’t go by in which we did not email each other several times. We shared about our families and our lives. We both have been married for nearly 30 years. She has three children, the youngest of which will be entering college in the fall. I have four children, the older two from a previous marriage. My youngest son will graduate from high school and attend college in the fall. My youngest daughter will be entering her junior year in high school. I am a retired teacher who occasionally teaches introductory computer classes to senior citizens. She is a registered nurse. She works part time as a school nurse and dabbles in real estate. We discovered that we lived in the same state, she in the central part and myself in the southwestern part. She is in her mid-40’s, putting around two decades of age difference between us.

It seemed natural that we eventually began sharing the state of our current sex lives. Our spouses had lost interest in sex. In my case, my wife never broached the subject of sex and only reluctantly was willing to “do me,” as she put it. I usually masturbated but on occasion, when needing a human touch, I would ask her for some relief. She would touch me and fondle me while I masturbated and every now and then let me come in her mouth. Then she would to go the bathroom, spit out my semen, and rinse her mouth out. In Joan’s case, she too mostly masturbated. When she needed the human touch, she would ask husband for sex. He would comply most of the time. It was missionary position and when he came, he stopped whether or not she had an orgasm. Like my wife, he would go and clean up after sex.

Of course, our moral and religious values entered into our discussions. We both shared the same ideas about right and wrong, moral and immoral. We were at the same place in our faith and served in our respective churches. Though frustrated sexually, neither of us had ever contemplated an affair. Both of us had thought about divorce at one time or another but we had family obligations and didn’t want to hurt those close to us. That, along with our moral and religious objections, seemed to make our relationship a long-distance one. It seemed were destined to live, no matter how much we bantered and hinted, with unfulfilled needs. But our need for fulfillment began to over-ride the moral and faith issues we shared. The longer we talked the less important moral and faith issues became to us.

We shared our sexual frustrations and continued to rely mostly on masturbation to meet our sexual needs. Our emails became increasingly graphic about how, in a perfect relationship, we would like to share sex with our partner. On one occasion I told her that for two people who aren’t getting any we sure talk big about it. That led to some bantering that if we ever had sex together we would certainly fulfill each other’s sexual needs. We had Göztepe Escort added naughtiness to our orneriness.

Before long, we were bantering back and forth about sex in nearly every email describing our sexual fantasies. It turned out we shared many of the same sexual preferences. The two of us became each other’s fantasy. We had some serious discussions about sex and found that agreed that there is so much more to it than the physical. Sex is physical, we agreed, making love involves the mind and emotions. We talked frankly about our mental and emotional needs and how sex played a part in meeting them. We stopped using the word sex and replaced it with making love. Our emails became more personal, the bantering more emotional. Because of our teasing, we came up with what we called “t” words: tease, tempt, tantalize, titillate, torment, and torture. We accused each other of deliberately “t-ing” each other, which we were of course. We also began using “s” words describing what our reactions would be if we were making love with each other: shiver, squirm, squeak, squeal, screech, shriek, scream, and shout. We were turning each other on so much with our words that often we would have to stop in the middle of reading or writing an email to masturbate. We admitted that we were meeting the needs of each other’s minds and emotions. But our physical needs continued to be unmet.

Honesty became important to us. Whatever we thought, whatever we felt, we were to express to each other. We agree there would be no holding back anything. The relationship we were building was to be totally open and free from judging.
We continued sharing our frustrations and what we would do to relieve them in each other if we ever had the opportunity. It got pretty graphic. We covered every possible nuance of making love. To us, making love was not a sprint, though an occasional quickie had appeal. We agreed it was a marathon. Making love was not jumping all over each other. And it wasn’t just intercourse. Foreplay was important. We talked about kissing, how we liked it, how we would share it. We shared the need we had to simply to hold and to be held. We described how we would caress each other’s faces, massage necks, backs and shoulders, whisper words of endearment. We wrote of stroking fingers over each other’s bodies and running lips and tongues from head to toe. We shared with abandon what we would do with each other if we would we would ever meet and let our passions take over. We shared our “hot spots,” what we’ve always wanted to do with-for-to another, what we’ve never tried but would like to. A deep attraction developed between us. It came to the point that we were depending on each other to feel needed and wanted and desired.

Things changed in one email in February. On Monday, she wrote that she was going a nursing seminar at a college in my part of the state the next weekend. She mentioned the name of the college. I wrote back that if she took the obvious route from her part of the state to the college, she’d pass within a mile or so of my house. We began giving each other clues about the towns we lived in and eventually identified the towns where we lived. That of course, led to more bantering and innuendo and complaining that it was unfair that two people who seemed so compatible and had such similar needs couldn’t get together.

We began hinting about the possibility of meeting. Then we began to talk about the possibility of meeting for lunch on her way to the seminar. I suggested a restaurant in a town close to the college and about 20 minutes from where I live. So we made a “date.” She did warn me that she just might embarrass me with a huge passionate kiss in the parking lot. I warned her if she did that I might just have to drag her into the van and have my way with her. But in our more realistic moments, we said we knew in our heads it was wrong, but our hearts were saying yes.

Several days before we were to meet, the weather forecast for Friday was not good. Snow flurries and possible freezing rain were predicted. We went back and forth about whether or not to cancel, but decided on keeping our date weather permitting.
I had previously found out that she owned a small apartment complex. One of the units was vacant and she was in the process of renovating it. It was located in a city a little over an hour from her and about 35 minutes from me. I’m not sure exactly how it started, but we began hinting about meeting at her property. I’m not sure exactly which of us finally came out and suggested it, but we quickly agreed.

Our plan was that she would leave early in the morning with the excuse of dropping some things off at the property and meeting with a plumber before going to the seminar. We shared cell phone numbers. She was to call me when she arrived, let it ring three times, and hang up. I would call right back and allow three rings so she would know that I was leaving and that I’d be there in a half hour or so.

We got really excited on Thursday because the forecast İstanbul Escort had changed and there would be no weather problems. Of course, we didn’t change our plans back to simply meeting for lunch. Without question it was the apartment.

I decided I should tell her about myself so that she wouldn’t expect much. I’m really an average, you might even say non-descript, person. I’m about 5′ 8″ tall, older, wear glasses, and have grey hair. I’m not heavy. I work out three times a week at the local Y, but still have that slight paunch we males tend to develop. She wrote that she was about the same height, had curly light auburn hair, and had lost 70 pounds in the last year. One time when we were discussing making love, we had agreed that it really didn’t matter what a person looked like, or what they had, it was what they did with what they had that mattered. But, because of our honesty, we agreed that if either one of us was not comfortable with the other, we’d simply find a place to eat, go on our way, and see where our email relationship might go after that.

On that Friday, February 24, I anxiously awaited her phone call. When it came, I returned the call and put my tool box in the trunk of my car. I had suggested bringing my tool box so that if her tenants noticed my arrival, I would appear to be someone who was involved in the renovation. Then I was on my way.

On my drive, I started having second thoughts. I asked myself, ‘What are we doing?’ I’d never done anything like this before. Neither had she. We were married. We had spouses, children, friends. But we didn’t care. We had needs that we knew in our hearts would be met in the other.

All my reservations went away when I arrived and saw her step out on the porch. Two thoughts immediately went through my mind: ‘So you are Catherine,’ and, ‘You are gorgeous.’

She smiled as I got my tool box and said that at last we were meeting.

I followed her inside and set my tool box down. When I stood up, she put her arms around my shoulders, tilted her head, and put her lips on mine. No, it wasn’t “a” kiss. It was “THE” kiss. The kiss we had often talked about. It was a full-body kiss. It was a hungry kiss. It was a kiss beyond any kiss I had ever experienced before. I put my arms around her waist and drew her tightly against me.

I can’t tell you how long we kissed. It seemed like forever. I had neither kissed nor been kissed like that before. Our bodies moved against each other. Our lips pressed together. Our lips parted. Our tongues played back and forth. We sucked on each other’s tongues. I darted my tongue in and out of her mouth. My tongue was making love with her. We would break the kiss for a moment for a breath then continue. The kiss became the most arousing kiss I had ever imagined. Our lips moved to cheeks and chins and ears and necks. We sucked on each other’s earlobes. Our lips met again, several quick kisses, then our tongues were playing again, exploring the depths of our mouths. Our hands began massaging each other’s back. We grabbed buttocks and pressed our pelvises together. Our breathing quickened, became heavy, panting. I felt my penis harden. She felt it. She pressed against it. She rotated her hips.

She broke the kiss, took a deep breath, looked into my eyes, and suggested we move to the bedroom. Taking my hand, she led me up the stairs.

There was nothing in the bedroom but an air bed she had inflated before I got there and a space heater she started because the furnace was turned off.

Throwing the covers back, she lay down and held her arms wide to me. I was amazed at how comfortable and natural we felt with each other. We had never seen each other before. We had said few words to each other so far. We did have the history of emails and the feelings they generated in us toward each other. It was as if we were of one mind and soul and body.

I lay down beside her. We faced each other and I cupped her face in my hands. I placed light kisses over her lips, her cheeks, her chin, every part of her face I could reach. She moved to cup my face and kissed every part of mine. We took turns kissing, licking, and gently sucking on each others neck and shoulders. Never, even in my fantasies, had I ever hoped to kiss and be kissed like that.

When I began licking her ear, she squirmed and her breathing rate increased. I ran my tongue in and around her ear and sucked on her ear lobe. She did the same to me.
No words passed between us. No words were necessary. We were transferring our feelings and our needs to each other through “the” kisses.

Our lips would meet from their wanderings and we shared kisses of increasing passion. Before long we had intertwined our legs and arms and were pressing ourselves against each other. Passion grew greater. Need grew greater. Before long we were thrashing together on the bed. We’d roll one way then another with our lips locked. She rolled on top of me. I rolled on top of her.

At one point, with me on top, I nearly rolled off the bed. Anadolu Yakası Escort She caught my arm and, giggling, pulled me back. We looked at each other and both started giggling. We were like two horny teenagers. Our giggles turned to laughter.

We stopped, looked into each other’s eyes, and started the passionate kissing again. It was tongues darting in and out, sucking on tongues, running tongues around the inside of each other’s mouths. My penis was stiffening.

She was on her back with me leaning over her. While locked in a kiss, I ran my fingers across her right breast. She caught her breath and shuddered. I felt a nipple underneath her blouse and began playing with it, using my thumb and index finger. I moved to the other nipple. I could feel it was erect. While continuing our passionate kissing, I moved from one nipple to the other with my fingers. Her body began to writhe. She bucked her hips. She rotated her pelvis.

With an impatient groan, she sat up and pulled off her blouse. With her back to me, I tried unhooking her bra. I couldn’t get it undone. I kept trying with no success and we began giggling again. Soon we were both laughing. Finally, I got her bra unhooked and pulled it over her shoulders

She reached over and unbuttoned my shirt and helped me off with it.

She lay back and pulled me down so that our bare chests were tight against each other. We resumed our kissing. She began moving her breasts across mine.

I broke our kissing, leaned on my elbow and looked into her eyes. I tilted her head to one side and began kissing and licking, making love to her neck and shoulder. She turned her head the other way so I could make love to the other side.

I began moving my mouth across her collar bone and downward. When my lips brushed across her right nipple, her body trembled and she took a sharp breath. I took her breast in my hands and began making love to it with my mouth. I moved my lips back and forth across it. She strained her nipple upward and I took it between my lips. She groaned and pulled my head against her breast. I gently sucked her nipple in and out of my mouth while running my tongue around and across it.

She pushed my head toward her other breast. I teased its nipple with my lips and tongue until she forced me to take it into my mouth. He body shook and she cried out as I did. Again, she held my face tightly against her.

Her body began to move. With my mouth still sucking on her nipple, I traced my fingers down her ribcage and across her abdomen. She shivered. I reached her jeans and unbuttoned them. I pulled down the zipper. She tried to wiggle them off but couldn’t do it. In frustration, she sat up, pulled off her jeans and panties, grabbed my neck and pulled my face back down to her nipple.

She moved my face from nipple to nipple and moaned whenever my fingers touched her somewhere different. I ran my fingers up and down her inner thighs, occasionally brushing across her bare vulva as I moved from one thigh to the other.
She had told me in an email that she had shaved herself. I had never felt a shaved woman before. Her bare skin against my fingers was arousing me.

Still attending to her nipples, I started fingering around her outer lips. They were swelled and moisture was seeping out. I occasionally pulled on her lips with a thumb and index finger then continued stroking around her vulva. She moaned. She groaned.
She shuddered when I parted her outer lips and ran my finger up and down her opening. I loved the smoothness of her inner lips. I flicked her clitoris. She twitched. I continued up and down her lips, occasionally touching her clitoris. She bucked her hips so I started concentrating on her clitoris. At one point, I slid my finger between her inner lips and moved it in and out. As I was doing that, I was stimulating her clitoris with the side of my thumb. Her moans turned to short “un’s.” The sounds were almost like grunts rather than moans or groans. Over and over, un, un. I could sense she was nearing an orgasm so I moved my finger and thumb faster. She shouted a long “un” and her body shook. I waited for her to end her orgasm, but she pushed her pelvis up and down and put her hand over mine so I wouldn’t take my finger out. She started making the short “un” sounds again. Each time she would have another, I guess you would call them mini-orgasms, she squeezed my finger with her vaginal muscles. Finally, she gave a sigh, relaxed her body, put an arm across her forehead, and lie still.

I moved up beside her and gathered her in my arms. We held each other tightly for a few moments facing each other. I lay on my back, she scooted close to me, I put an arm under her neck and she put her head on my shoulder.

Then we started talking. Up to this point we had hardly said a word to each other since we had arrived. I have a tendency to analyze, though most people say I over-analyze. I asked about her reactions to our lovemaking. We had once talked about multiple orgasms for women. She didn’t have multiples, she had a continuous orgasm, reaching peaks but never ending. We decided that she is fortunate in that she can orgasm that way. She didn’t need to stop for a short recovery. I told her she was like the energizer bunny, she kept going and going and going.

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