Dare to Dog

That reminded me of my own circumstances. Taking stock of my situation, I realized that I was a complete wreck. I began trying to figure out how I would explain myself if Tim had brought the boys back early, like he had done the last time. I knew I had to leave, but didn't want to.

I fixed my tits and pulled down my skirt, and took one last look around my first dogging escapade with longing and a wistful sadness that it was ending. I scouted the clearing and once again made eye contact with bus-bloke. He was buckling his buckle and gave me a friendly smile.

He jerked his head back towards the bus stop, and I nodded. Silently, we moved away from the others. I took one last glance back and saw the skinny couple fucking on the ground, the girl riding her man and letting her small tits flap up and down freely. God, how I wish I had her confidence.

You do! A voice came out of nowhere in my head. You just did everything she's doing, and more!

I smiled to myself. My little inner demon was right.

By some miracle the bus came quickly. Night busses are notoriously sparse, and I had been bracing for another forty minute awkward wait with the stranger who just fucked me into the heavens with the best orgasm of my life.

We sat on opposite sides of the bus, the seats facing each other. I don't know why either one of us didn't move further away or sit next to each other. It was as if there was some sort of etiquette that neither one of us understood.

"That was my first time," he said, suddenly. There was no one else on the bus, and we had no fear of being overheard by the driver.

I nodded. "Mine too," I agreed.

Silence. Awkward. He looked away as he tried to figure out if there was something else he wanted to say.

Apparently, there was. "It was better than I expected," he said.

"For me too," I said.

"You're gorgeous," he said, swallowing. It was as if he was afraid he would offend me with the compliment.

I blushed. "Thank you," I said. Then, feeling like I should return the compliment, I said, "You've got the best cock I've ever had."

It was true, but he had a funny reaction on his face. He didn't seem to take it like I thought he would. I thought all men liked having their cocks complimented?

He looked down, saying nothing more. I followed his gaze and felt my heart jump in my throat. He was looking at my wedding ring. I had been so used to wearing it that it never even occurred to me to take it off. I wondered who else in the park had noticed.

I looked back at him, ashamed. I felt like I needed to make some excuse, to lie. For some reason it mattered very, very much what he thought of me. Self-consciously, I touched the ring with my other hand, admitting my guilt.

Instead, he had a look of understanding on his face. He just nodded slowly. Deliberately, he leaned to the side and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled something out and then placed his own ring onto his left hand.

I closed my gob, not really knowing I had left it open. I must have looked like a fish. In that moment something had shifted, something significant. It was like we both knew more about the other than could ever be spoken aloud.

He looked out the bus window and his jaw set. He sighed, and then reached for the call button. I could tell that if he had a choice, he would have ridden that city bus with me for the rest of the night just as we were. He just wanted my presence, far more than what was waiting for him.

The bus slowed, and he stood up and began to make his way towards the centre. Turning back at me he asked, "Will you be doing it again?"

I shrugged. I honestly didn't know. "I'm not sure," I said. It was the truth, and I felt that saying anything else would lead him on. Or lead me on. I wasn't sure which.

He smiled a wistful smile. "Me neither," he said.

The bus stopped and the door opened. Before he stepped out, I called after him. "But maybe!" I said.

He froze and then turned back to look at me. Hope flashed across his face, but then it was replaced by a cold splash of reality. He nodded and gave a wistful smile. "Maybe," he agreed.

He stepped off and the door closed behind him. He turned around and looked straight at me as the bus began to pull away. He blew me a kiss and mouthed the words, "Thank you."

I didn't know what to think. Without needing to say a single word, he had told me what was waiting for him at home. In that moment I felt closer to him than I had to Tim for donkey's years. We'd had a moment, and then we'd had a bond.

There was a storm inside of me at that moment. I didn't even know his name, but I knew that I wanted to see him and that gorgeous cock once more. I realized that for that reason alone, I knew I could never go dogging again. I'd never be able to place the boundaries that were necessary as a married mum.

I was sure that by the time I had my first row with Tim, though, that resolve would disappear. Already the feeling in my cunt was too empty. It needed attention, and my own fingers and toys would likely never be enough now that I've had a taste of being ravaged. I also knew that I'd want another cock to play with - one that wasn't Tim's.

Before I knew it I was home, naked in front of the mirror with the shower running. I stared at myself in in the mirror, trying to picture my face being fucked by several men. I wondered what I had looked like. My nipples were red and would grow into impressive hickeys, but Tim would never notice. He never looked at them anyway. But they gave me a nice reminder that no one could take away from me.

I glanced at the ring on the counter and thought about my bus-man. I wondered what he was doing at that moment, whether he had been caught by his wife. I wondered if he would be out again searching for me, and if so, when.

Of all the memories of the evening, the one that remained freshest was the look on his face when he reluctantly put the ring back on his finger. No one should have to feel that way, unloved, undesired, neglected. Everyone needs to know that there is something out there for them beyond the day-to-day doldrums and a spouse who does not care.

My reflection stared back at me as the steam began to take over my image. The last thing I saw before it consumed the glass was a more deterministic look on my face than I had seen in a long, long time.

Everyone.