Advice from the Internet

The next day, Monday, after giving Jake his morning beejay, and sending him off to work, I went to work myself. It was tough getting back into it after such an eventful weekend. I concentrated hard on my various tasks, but in between I thought about Gabriella. In a way I was glad Jake didn't fuck her right there in the parking lot. I think I wanted our first experience to be in a bed, and more leisurely. But what did I mean, first experience? That was an experience, wasn't it? Well, you know what I meant.

I decided to try to find Gabriella on the internet. It wasn't hard. I mean, how many Gabriellas are there in commercial real estate in our metro area? Her LinkedIn profile popped up right away, complete with a photo with her in a business suit and flashing a gorgeous smile. Gabriella Alamansa, Assistant Director of Development. She worked for a large downtown firm. I also found a photo of her on the firm's website, and some photos of her at a motorcycle rally sitting on her Harley, and another on a page advertising firearms instruction. Her Facebook page and her Instagram page were set to private, though.

I felt like a creepy stalker. In any case, I had enough info to contact her if I wanted to, either through LinkedIn messaging or her work's main phone number.

Tuesday and Wednesday were ordinary days. Morning beejay, work, dinner at home, some TV, and then bed. No PIV, though.

Chapter 7 - I thoroughly embarrass myself.

The next day was Thursday. Before I got out of bed I reflected on the current state of my life. Although it was only about a month since my Reddit post, it seemed like a lot had happened in that time. My porcelain pussies were selling like hotcakes at a good price. My sex life with hubby was rejuvenated. I'd successfully role-played being his outsourced anal-only booty call. With perseverance I was beginning to overcome my gag reflex. Although it was clumsily done, I planted the idea in hubby's head that he could one day be fucking another woman with my blessing and encouragement. And then when he almost fucked a beautiful goddess on the front of her jeep in a parking lot, I didn't have a jealous meltdown. Instead I came countless times in a frenzy of masturbation in his truck followed by amazing sex with my husband in our bed. That was good progress, right?

I wanted to call Gabriella and beg her to finish what she started. Would that be creepy? Could I handle her being our cuckcake? She seemed to check all the boxes, except she wasn't younger than me. At least, I didn't think she was. Maybe that wasn't so important, after all. Also, I wondered about her morals. She told Jake she didn't have any reservations about fucking married men. That sounded like an immoral homewrecker. I wasn't sure I liked that. On the other hand, maybe that made her the perfect person to skewer my insecurities right at their core.

But would she do it? Was I taking that for granted? Maybe she would say no. Maybe the way things ended on Saturday didn't sit so well with her. If she wanted to, she could call us. No, maybe she couldn't. I had no reason to believe she had Jake's number or any info that would make it easy for her to find him.

Maybe I should just chalk that episode up as a big success, and move on. But if not Gabriella, who? Where the fuck else was I going to find a cake?

I decided I should try a hookup app. I'd never used one before, or even a dating app. I'd met hubby the old fashioned way - we were introduced by a mutual friend. I spent some time trying to figure out which one to use. But there are so many. I gave up and decided to go to work.

It was around nine o'clock when I went out to get in my car. It was a beautiful, warm, quintessential New England summer day. I noticed Morgan across the street pushing a stroller down the sidewalk with the two Henderson kids, Meghan and Teddy. They were 3 and 4, respectively. The Henderson's house is kitty-corner across the street, and Morgan had been one of their regular babysitters at least since Jake and I got engaged and moved in here together three years ago.

It had been a while since I had seen her, and I did a double-take. I never thought of her as anyone special. Just a standard-issue high-school student. Then she graduated and went off to college. I hadn't seen her for at least a year. During that short time something magic must have happened, because even from across the street, I could see that Morgan had grown up.

Little Meghan was seated in the stroller and Teddy was standing up, riding on the back. Morgan was wearing short frayed denim shorts, a sleeveless white cut-off tee shirt with some sort of band logo on the front, sneakers, and a backpack. Her legs were long and lean, her butt looked round and firm, her abs were flat and showed a hint of muscle, and her breasts were, well, substantial. Her long, wavy blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun. She waved at me. I waved back.

I ran my fingers through my hair, pausing for a minute. I really should be going to work. But instead I relocked my car and trotted across the street to catch up with her. I called out "Hey Morgan!" She turned and smiled. "Hi Mrs. Trammel!"

"It's Sarah, please!"

"What's up?"

"I just wanted to say hello. I haven't seen you in a long time. It's a beautiful day out."

"Yeah. Too nice to stay inside. I'm taking the kiddos to the park."

"The little park over on Claremont Street?"

"Yeah, that one."

"I could use a break from work today. Do you mind if I walk with you?"

"No, of course not. That would be nice, Sarah. I could use the company."

We chatted as we walked. I learned the Hendersons were in Paris for a 1-week romantic getaway without the kids. Morgan was taking a short break from her summer internship in California to stay in the Henderson's house and take care of their kids, with brief visits to her parents at both ends. Her first year at Stanford had gone really well. She didn't have a boyfriend. She broke up with her high-school sweetheart when they learned they were going to different colleges. But she wasn't heartbroken. She had decided the relationship needed to end anyway. She said she was too busy with her studies to have a boyfriend, and besides, she was enjoying the benefits of living the single life on a college campus.

Arriving at the park, the kids ran straight to the jungle gym, or play structure, or whatever those things are called these days. Morgan and I sat down on a bench and watched them. Every now and then Morgan had to jump up and rescue one of them from hurting themselves or each other. In between these interventions we continued to chat. Morgan was in her first year of pre-med on a full scholarship, majoring in molecular biology, after having graduated High School as valedictorian! Also, she was on the swim team, the rowing team, and the track team. She was only 19, but she had the presence of someone several years older. She was so confident. So self assured. Cocky even.

As she talked I tried to stop staring at her soft, perfect lips. Her face was perfect. I imagined my husband kissing those lips. I imagined them kissing him back.

We also chatted about my art, and my intentions to have kids of my own someday, maybe soon.

After a little while she asked me "Could you get the kiddos and bring them back here for some snacks?" As I was retrieving them, she pulled a little blanket out of the stroller and spread it out on the lawn. She pulled some sandwiches, dried apricots, nuts, carrot sticks, and juice boxes out of her backpack for them. She sat down cross-legged on the lawn, and I sat down next to her.

Morgan was so much younger than me, prettier than me, smarter than me, and sexier than me. She had a lean, athletic body but much bigger tits than me. She was objectively better than me in every way. She was friendly and enchanting. She had charisma. She was naturally blonde. The sun seemed to shine brighter around her. Her smile lit up her surroundings. I was captivated. She was so disarming, she made me feel comfortable and at ease around her. A warm tingly happy feeling flooded my entire body, like ASMR but really intense.

Without intending to, she made me feel vastly inferior, but it was different from the feeling Gabriella gave me. Somehow I found her less threatening. Maybe because she was already familiar? Maybe because she was so much younger?

"Morgan? Can I ask you about something?" I asked, hesitantly. I was sure she could tell I was nervous.

"Sure, Sarah. What is it?"

"Well, um. I don't know how to talk about this. It's embarrassing. I'm afraid to, but somehow I can't help myself." I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I was sure I was going to regret this. But I did it anyway.

"I'm sure I can handle it. How bad can it be?" she replied, smiling.

"Pretty bad," I mumbled, as I pulled my phone out of my purse. I opened the Reddit app and found my post. I handed it to her and said "Here, read this." As she was reading it I added, "I posted that question to Reddit a while ago."

She finished reading and looked at me, wide eyed. "Wow, that's pretty heavy!" she said.

"Yeah, I know." I responded, meekly.

"So, you want my advice? What advice could I have to offer you? I don't have tons of relationship experience."

"No, well, sort of, but not really. I have lots of advice from the commenters on Reddit," I said, reaching out to take the phone back from her. I scrolled to Quean_Bea's comment and handed the phone back to her. "What do you think of this one?" I asked, instantly regretting it. What the hell was I thinking? Why was I always doing things I was going to regret? Suddenly the full impact of what I was doing hit me and I was horrified. My heart beat even faster. My vision started to dim.

As Morgan read, her eyes opened wide, and then wider. Her perfect, soft lips formed into a silent "oh". She leaned into the screen and her eyes got even wider. Her mouth fell open.

Suddenly I felt hot all over. My stomach was churning. I broke into a cold sweat. My peripheral vision progressively shrank to a narrow tunnel, focused only on the center portion of her face. I don't think Morgan had finished reading the comment when she looked up at me and said, "Sarah, are you okay? You're as white a ghost! And you're trembling like a leaf." She reached out and took my hand. "Your hand is ice cold! Should I call 911?" That's when I blacked out.

When I came to, there were lots of flashing red lights, and some flashing blue lights. Paramedics in their tan uniforms had their hands on me. They had a backboard with them. There was a rolling gurney not far away and an ambulance with its rear door open. "No!" I cried. "No hospital! I'm okay!"

"You don't look okay," one of the paramedics said. He looked like a fatherly type. His concern seemed genuine.

"I just fainted, that's all," I said, sitting up and looking around. There was a company of firefighters milling about and a few bystanders watching. Morgan was about 20 feet away holding the two kids by the hand.

"I'm okay, really," I insisted. "It was just a case of nerves. Here, help me up," I said, holding my hand up to the fatherly paramedic.

"I'm not allowed to do that," he responded.

"Okay then. I can do it myself." I slowly got myself on all fours, then struggled to my feet, and looked over at Morgan. I waved at her. "I'm okay!" I yelled, trying to smile.

The paramedic stepped between us. "Please, Ma'am, You really should let us take you to the hospital, and get checked out," he said.

"No thank you. I'm sorry you came out here for nothing. But really, I'm okay."

He handed me a clipboard and a pen. "I need you to sign this, saying that you refused transport to the hospital and refused care," he said. I scribbled my signature on it.

"Please write your name, address, and phone number in these spaces," he said, pointing at places on the form. I did as requested.

Taking the clipboard from me, he looked it over and said "Have a nice day, Mrs. Trammel. Please call your doctor and tell them what happened."

"I will, thank you," I lied. "Sorry for the false alarm."

As they were packing up and leaving I slowly approached Morgan. I stood in front of her wringing my hands. I burst into tears. "I'm sorry! I'm so ashamed!" I sobbed. "Please forgive me!"

Morgan put her hand on my shoulder. "Sarah, it's alright. Please! There's nothing to forgive."

"Yes there is. I shouldn't have done that. I had no right. It was beyond rude. I'm so embarrassed."

Little Meghan chimed in. "Don't cry!" she said in her squeaky little voice. I smiled at her. Morgan took her hand. I struggled to get my tears under control.

"That must have been very hard for you to do. It took a lot of courage," Morgan said.

"Not courage. Stupidity," I replied. "Look, can we please just try to forget it?"

"I'm taking the kids back to the house now. Would you like to walk with us?" She handed me my phone. I looked at it like it was going to electrocute me. She pushed it into my hand and I slowly closed my fingers around it, and shoved it into my back pocket.

"You still want to be around me, after what I just did?" I asked.

"Sarah, I don't know what you are talking about. Come on, let's go."

Teddy tugged on my hand. "Can I ride on your shoulders?" he asked.

Morgan interjected. "You can ride on mine, Teddy." She scooped him up and put him on her shoulders, holding one of his feet in each hand. "Sarah, can you push Meghan in the stroller?"

"Okay," I said, despondent, but happy for something to do.

I was quiet as we walked back. Morgan talked with the kids about this and that. Whatever she would have talked about with them if I weren't there, I suppose. I was thinking about whether I had any plausible deniability. When I handed her the phone all I said was "what do you think of this one?". I didn't say, "please have sex with my husband". But she would read between the lines, wouldn't she? How could she not?

When we were opposite my house, she put Teddy down and turned to me. "I was really worried when you fainted," she said. "I had no idea what to do. Even though I'm pre-med I don't know very much yet about doctoring."

"I'm so sorry," I replied. "I hope you'll forgive me."

Morgan put her arms around me and gave me a big hug. "It's alright, Sarah. No harm done. There's nothing to forgive. Don't worry about it." I couldn't bring myself to hug her back. My arms hung limp at my side.

When she let me go I said "thank you," and trudged back to my house. I didn't feel like I could go to work. I went upstairs and lay down on the bed. I stayed there the rest of the day, feeling miserable, thinking about how badly I had botched everything, how thoroughly I had embarrassed myself, and despairing of ever finding a cake. I should have used one of the hookup apps. What in the world made me think I could just approach the neighbor's baby sitter? I was a victim of my own wishful thinking. I had let my twat do my thinking for me, and look how it turned out!

Mid-afternoon I got up and went down to the kitchen to get dinner started. Since I had lots of time before hubby would be home, I made something much nicer than we usually have on a weekday. When he got home, he asked me if I came home early to make it. I said no, I didn't go to work because I wasn't feeling well. At dinner, he commented that I didn't seem like my usual cheerful self. I said it was because I wasn't feeling great. I asked if we could just watch TV and go to bed. We watched some silly sitcom on Hulu and then went straight to sleep with no monkey business.

I didn't sleep very well, so I woke up tired the next morning. I skipped the beejay but Jake didn't seem too put out by it. I went to work and distracted myself from my misery by focusing on some of the more intricate pieces I had underway. But I couldn't stop mulling over the previous day's events.

In the end I decided to take a zen attitude about it. I mean, like who cares, right? So what if Morgan thinks I'm a pervert? Who was she to me? I might never see her again. And it seemed like nobody in the park that day knew who I was, or I would have heard from them by now. So, yeah, who cares? I decided to just forget about it.

It was Friday, so after work I met hubby at a restaurant we like that has live jazz on weekends. We had a pleasant meal and then hung out at the bar afterward listening to the music. Hubby talked to some nice fellow next to us about boats and fishing. I looked around at other people in the place and wondered how many of them might be secret perverts like me. I didn't see anybody who would be a good cuckcake candidate, although how would I know one if I saw one? We stayed pretty late, and then went home and straight to bed.

Chapter 8 - I visit the neighbor's babysitter

The next morning, Saturday, I slept in late. When I got up, Jake was already up. As I was getting dressed, I saw some movement through the window out of the corner of my eye, that made me look closer. Hubby was across the street talking to Morgan, while the two kids ran around in the Henderson's front yard. I watched while they talked for about 15 minutes. She seemed flirty. You know, the usual things like touching his arm, touching her own neckline with her fingers fanned out, twirling her hair, standing a little too close, and smiling a lot. That amazing smile!. Then hubby turned and headed back to the house. He noticed me in the window and waved, smiling at me. I waved back. "Jesus Christ," I murmured to myself.

I reached the bottom of the stairs as he came in the front door. Standing on the bottom step, one hand on the handrail, I asked "What were you and Morgan talking about?"

"Nothing much," he said. "Just small talk. The Hendersons are in Paris for a week. A romantic getaway without the kids. That's why she's staying here and babysitting them."

"Oh," I said, fervently praying that this was all they talked about.

He looked at me. "We should go to France sometime. Would you like that?" he asked, as he took off his shoes.

"Yes, I would. I would really like that," I said. I had never been to France, with Jake or anyone else.

"Maybe it's not all that expensive, depending on when you go. I'll do a little research," he said, turning and walking into the living room.

"That would be great," I replied, stepping down off the step and following him. "What else did you talk about?"

Jake turned to look me in the eye. I wondered if I was sounding like my old, jealous, suspicious self. Like, why in the hell was I so concerned about what they talked about, anyway?

"We talked about my truck," he replied. "She was asking me why I got an F-150, instead of a Dodge Ram or a Silverado."

"Oh, is that all?" I said. That sounded pretty mundane.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," he replied, suspiciously.

Was that really all, I wondered? What else did they talk about that he didn't mention? I didn't dare press him on it.

"Why did you get a F-150, instead of a Ram or a Silverado?" I asked him. He'd bought it before we were married.

Jake looked annoyed. "Do you really want to know?" he grunted.

"Yeah, I do," I answered.

"Well, it came down to dealer pricing and available factory financing at the time," he answered. "I think the Ram is a better truck, but it cost more. And the Silverado is not quite as good and it was about the same money."

"Oh, thank you," I replied, adding "That makes sense." This was a lie. I had no idea if it made sense or not.

This was a dumb conversation, I thought to myself.

"I'm leaving shortly," he said, abruptly changing the subject. "You do remember that I'm playing basketball with the guys today, right?"

"Yes, of course!" I replied. This was also a lie. I had completely forgotten.

No sooner had his truck left the driveway than I heard my phone rang upstairs. I scampered to see who it was. It was a number I didn't recognize. Normally I let unknown numbers go to voicemail, but I was rattled so I quickly answered it with a hesitant "hello?".