A Letter to Willy

Dear Willy,

It's been a long time, hasn't it? When was it last, 3 years ago, at Angela's party? You said you loved me, that's a joke and we both knew it, but you got what you wanted -- so did I for that matter. We'd been so close for so long, then to meet up again so unexpectedly there. I wanted you all over again but I had the feeling you'd have taken any one of the girls there if they'd have had you. So it was me. I always fell for your bullshit because I wanted to, and here I did it again. I thought it hilarious the looks we got when we came back to the crowd, until I found out that one reason I got those looks was because of the big smear of something -- your something I'm sure -- on the back of my skirt.

As you know I'm married now. He's a very nice, older guy, but do I love him? What's love got to do with it? I thought I loved you! We're good together, both socially and sexually, although he's NOW always pushing me to fuck other guys. About once every couple of weeks, it seems, he brings home a new friend, someone he met at work, or at a bar, and he leaves us alone, and the guy's all over me. Or we go out to dinner or just a drink at a bar, and meet a guy, sometimes a couple, and we go to there place, or come to ours, and pretty soon we pair off, usually girl/boy, but sometimes girl/girl (and I guess boy/boy, though who knows?)

Now, he's hinting at me meeting men in hotel rooms, and getting paid to fuck. If that sounds like prostitution to you, you're right. Really, though, I like it all, as you know only too well. It wasn't always that way. I was prepared for a "nice" marriage, no more fucking around, and it lasted for about two weeks. We had agreed, tacitly maybe, I don't remember, but we'd agreed we could go our own ways if we wanted. He was actually jealous of me even talking or flirting with other men at first, so you can imagine how tough that was for me.

Early one Saturday morning I got a call from someone, you may know him, Ralph Denkins (I think). Word had got around that I might be available again, and he wanted to take me out. You'd have thought I said I wanted to leave George forever! We talked endlessly about it. Was I going to fuck this guy? Use a condom (I didn't) ; Home by midnight (I wasn't); Call him when I was leaving (I did, but then we had another quickie, so I was very late). What a scene! He called me all the names in the book, whore, slut etc, then whacked me a good one. I was prepared to leave him, but then we made up in the appropriate manner. We always do.

I think the first time my husband was there when I was with another man it didn't go well, either, and he was pissed off, as I think you said you were the first time you watched your girlfriend, and I don't actually think we were married yet.

We were with a friend, a younger guy who he worked with, and who asked us if we'd ever smoked weed. We both said no, so he brought some out. Looking back I wonder now if he was trying to get in my pants, and he partly succeeded, but who can remember how those things went. So we smoked together, and George and I got sort of silly, and then we all started to get sexy. Both of them kissed me, I remember we danced, they both felt my butt through my jeans, maybe held my breast in their hands, I remember my husband, George, came up behind me while I was dancing with the kid, and held both my breasts in his hands, but then he flaked out.

He just sat in a chair staring off into space, while the kid and I danced, kissed and got into what used to be called "heavy petting". I remember lying on his couch while he kneeled beside me, feeling my breasts through my blouse, so I unbuttoned it for him -- no bra that night. Then it was him kissing, kissing, fondling, sucking on my breasts, very pleasant. Then things got real hazy. I remember taking off my jeans and he was doing some serious feeling and fondling, and had his hand in my pants, I think I might have taken those off too, when my husband came to life.

He stood watching for a few minutes, then said something like "what are you trying to do, fuck 'er?" real nasty. Well the guy might have been doing something pretty rasty by then, like he probably had his finger in me, at least rubbing my clit, I just remember feeling mellow, and this was real jarring. The guy said something lame like." We were just having some fun." George grabbed my arm told me to come with him, or "maybe you'd like to spend the night here".

OK, I got up off the couch, dressed, all this in silence. I gave the guy a kiss and said goodnight, and we went out to the car -- still silence, and I was feeling nervous. As we drove home the conversation went something like this:

Me: "I'm sorry."

Him: "That's OK." Coldly.

Silence.

Me: "Are you mad?" Hopefully.

Him: "No." Still cold.

Silence.

Me: "We were just messing around."

Him: " I don't think when a man has his hand in your pants or is feeling your cunt, it's just messing around."

Silence.

Him: "Did you want to sleep with him?" Harshly.

I had to laugh. "Sleep with him." I thought, that's so old fashioned.

Him: "What's so funny? When a man's feeling you up, I think that's serious! Did you want him to fuck you?" He was getting angry now, but I almost burst out laughing again. "feeling you up." That was so out of date.

It must have been the influence of the weed, because I was having a hard time not laughing. But I did say: "Well, if that's so serious, when we went to a party at (I don't remember where) and I caught you kissing Sharon (a girlfriend of mine) with your hand up her skirt, was that serious?"

Well it went on like that until we got home, and then it was pretty quiet until we were undressed. I was naked when he grabbed me from behind, threw me on the bed, and said something like "Next time you want to fuck someone, ask permission first!"

That broke the ice, and we both giggled, but NOW it got serious. That must have been some of the most physical fucking we'd done up to then. We were both worn out and really slept soundly.

Of course, that was not really what we said to each other, or for that matter what really happened, that's just the way I remember it. Next day George apologized to both of us for being such an asshole.

Willy, I still think of you and the good times we had, so if you want to, sometime, give me a call and we'll relive those times. Don't let my husband know, though, or he might make you pay for it!

Still love you!

xx Jaynie xx