February Sucks - the Details Matter

But truth be told, Linda has always been genuine. That's one of the characteristics I love about her. She is never trying to be another person. She is who she is. That's another reason that night hurts so much. Her real self was infatuated. Her real self was swept away. Her real self ignored all the marriage warning bells and potential aftermath to do what she did. Her real self allowed Marc to caress, kiss, finger, lick and fuck her over and over again!!

"Fuck!" He screamed out loud again in a car for the second time today. There I go again. I've got to get control of my thoughts, he told himself. A simple text from Linda and 5 seconds later I'm spiraling down into the abyss. "This is going to be a long three days," he said out loud to no one but himself.

When Linda returned to the journal, it was already after lunch. She'd have to leave soon to pick up the kids, but she had a few minutes. Where was I, she thought. Ah yes the arrival at the club.

[Back to the journal]

The evening progressed exactly how I thought and hoped it would. The band was fun. Jim and I danced. He held me close and I know he was looking forward to later, but neither of us were rushing the evening. We were taking a break from the dance floor and back at our table when it all changed. Marc LaValliere, the NFL All Pro tight end, walked from the other side of the club directly to me and asked me to dance. Sadly, it never once crossed my mind to refuse.

Although she had just sat back down to write, Linda paused. Writing this journal was about to get real. Prior to getting to relive every kiss, touch, sensation, act, and after glow with Marc, she had to first honestly explore what drove her to up and leave Jim. For the thousandth time since that night she was grateful that she was not there to see Jim's face when he found out she had decided to just walk away to go spend the night with another man.

I felt so tiny dancing with Marc. His size, strength and intense (but not toxic) masculinity set off all kinds of feelings and sent my own sense of my femininity soaring! I have never been so glad to be born female as I was at that moment in his arms. His body enveloped me. His confidence was intoxicating. He never had any hesitation. He led me around the dance floor with ease and expectation. We went where he wanted me to go.

I remember thinking that I so hope he dips me but he never did. He didn't need to show off or flaunt his dance moves. It was also obvious to me he was aware eyes were on us and so he kept up appearances. But oh how I would have enjoyed falling back in his strong arms, glancing up into his eye as he cradled me, right before swooping me up and spinning me around.

I had just met this man, and yet within moments I was utterly infatuated. He had his hand around my waist, he stared intensely into my eyes, and he held me close. There were no other scenarios where I would have allowed a complete stranger to touch me and whisper within inches of my ear. Yet on this night I was not only allowing it, I was reveling in it. Why was it okay? Why was Marc pursuing me so deliberately? Why did he not show any hesitation to move in and attempt to claim another man's wife? Jim, of course, knew instinctively it wasn't okay. He saw it correctly for what it was - not right, not innocent, and, unfortunately for our marriage, not one-sided.

The planning, as it were, actually came together quickly and it was pretty much exactly as I shared with Jim when I wrote it down. I was in heaven out on the dance floor. The slow dances just kept coming and I was so grateful. I wanted to be exactly where I was. I wanted to press up against him and feel his breath on my neck. His hand on my back. His eyes on my face. I didn't want the spell to be broken. The sexual intensity I didn't see from Jim back at the house, I sensed from Marc. I was flushed. He was seducing me and he wanted me to know it.

During a slow dance he leaned into me and whispered, "Come home with me. There's a back entrance by the restrooms. I'll bring the car around. See if your friend can cover for you."

That was it. There was no question in his instructions. He didn't mention Jim. He didn't go into a lot of explanation. But in a few words, he made it abundantly clear what was about to take place. There would be no more dances. No awkwardness in the ballroom throughout the evening as we went back to our separate tables. No time for Jim to pout. There would be no passed phone numbers or a planned secret rendezvous in the coming weeks. It was now or never. It was gather your things and walk out with me now...or stay and contemplate 'what-ifs' for the rest of your life.

I'm ashamed to write this for the second time, but it's true. I didn't hesitate for a second. I knew I would leave with him the moment he asked. I also knew there would be no first date awkwardness around things like a kiss, or the uncomfortableness of him trying to interpret my mood before making a tentative, cringe-worthy move. No, it was already silently and mutually agreed. He would be taking me back to his house for sex. The fact that my husband was sitting 20 feet from me made no difference, and honestly probably added to my excitement! I would be fucked by this man and my husband would know. I was beyond aroused. My panties were now soaking wet. I had to get out of here. Screw the consequences, my deep sub conscience said. As I walked back toward the table and Jim, there was only one question left in my mind, where the fuck was the back door?

I have a sense of what Dee said to Jim after I left. She told me it wasn't pretty. I've also heard Jim's version of the havoc I left behind. Like I said I am glad I wasn't there. I know the hurt was real and sharp. But Dee did what I needed her to do. She gave me a little cover and bought me some time. She allowed me to leave without Jim seeing me go.

This analogy might be a little tortured, but this whole night was like a roller coaster: the shopping, the pampering, the anticipation, were all the beginning clank, clank, clanks up towards the top of the first hill. The arrival, the glances, the dances with Jim, clank clank clank, all moved me closer to the top. Finally, the invitation to dance from Marc, the dances, the seduction, the intoxication of this new man, the decision to leave with him, all brought me right to the apex of the ride with all the associated anticipation. And when I pressed that release bar on the club's back door and the cold air hit my face, and I saw Marc waiting with my coat and signaling me into his inviting warm car, the rollercoaster crested and I started flying forward, beginning the biggest thrill ride of my life!

Damn, smiled Linda as she thought about what she wrote. It's getting hot in here, she thought. She looked up at the clock and saw that it was time to pick-up the kids. She closed her Ipad, thinking that this is as good a place as any to take a break. The rest of the afternoon was spent with the kids. She helped with homework and then cooked dinner. After baths, they curled up on the couch and watched a movie. Jim called as promised. He spoke to both kids and told them goodnight.

"How was your day? he asked.

"Fine," I replied.

We talked amicably for a few minutes staying on safe subjects before hanging up for the evening.

After saying goodnight to Jim, Linda thought about going back to the journal, but decided against it. It had been a long day, and it had taken an emotional toll. Instead she cleaned the kitchen and went to bed early.

Jim on the other hand also tried to go to bed early but sleep eluded him. He believed her when she said she stayed home. However, he wondered if she had ever tried to contact Marc since they talked after St. Patrick's. He didn't think so, but if she really wanted to secretly get in contact with him, she had his number, and he was sure she could do it without him knowing. On the plus side, his racing mind had slowed down. Thank God. Talking with Emma and Tommy had helped. By all accounts, Linda was further along in returning to normalcy than he was. It appeared she really wanted things to go back to the way they were and she was living that commitment. He didn't feel she was pining away for Marc, or curious to initiate a round two. He was the problem.

It was clear, even from today, that he had a long way to go. He just couldn't get past it, and he wasn't sure he ever could. Had they gotten past divorce or just postponed it, he thought? He also wondered again if he should ask her about the details. Would knowing them help him heal or wound him more. It was thinking about that dilemma when he finally, fitfully drifted off to sleep.

Tuesday

After a good night sleep, and dropping the kids off at school, Linda refilled her coffee and opened up the Ipad. She re-read everything she had written from yesterday, making a few edits, but was overall pleased. She then thought with a secret smile, it's time to relive the fairytale.

Dear Journal:

Jim knows nothing of the ride to Marc's. It was the first of many things that night with Marc that I chose not to write down.

The first thing I remember doing in the car as he navigated out of the parking lot and off towards his home was take a better look at him. He was tall like Jim, but that is where the similarities ended. Marc and Jim had very little else in common. Jim was, no doubt, self assured. He had been popular his whole life. He made friends easy and dated a lot in high school and college. As I have said, he is handsome and I know other women find him charming and attractive as do I. But Jim's elevated position in the universe revolved around a middle class, dad/husband existence in the suburbs. But Marc's....

Linda, drifted back in her memory of her initial impressions. She wanted to get this right. She gathered her thoughts and continued.

But Marc's outward bearing was on another level. He didn't come across as boastful or braggy, in fact he hadn't mentioned once that he was a starting tight end in the NFL. But damn, everything about his manner oozed sexy, self-assured confidence. Marc was battle tested. He was in the arena, literally. He violently competed with the best athletes in the world to the roar of adoring fans. And oh was he gorgeous. He smelled different than Jim. He felt different from Jim. He wasn't suburban soft. He didn't stay in shape with monthly gym memberships. He was extremely competitive and focused. He performed at an elite level. He wanted to win at all costs in all things. He also had a magnetism that came from living completely in the moment. He led a life that didn't require that he trouble himself with the mundane, and yet he troubled himself with me. Maybe that's it. On that night, Marc wanted me in his expansive universe. It was light years from mine and Jim's, and I was powerless, or maybe unwilling, to break away from its gravitational pull.

I remember Marc looked over and caught me staring.

"What?" he asked with a slight grin.

I reached out and traced my finger down the back of his right hand on the steering wheel. "You have gorgeous hands," I said.

He smiled, removed it from the wheel and placed it on my left thigh. Two hours of heightened sexual tension, yet it was only now that he initiated his first intimate act. I caught my breath and gasped a little for air. His hand was large (but not meaty), it was sinewy and tan. I could see the veins and could only imagine how strong it was. If I was standing, I'm sure my knees would have buckled. It rested firmly just inside my knee and the contrast it created with my skin was so fucking hot. I made no attempt to move it. I'm also sure I didn't breath. Yet neither did he move. His hand stayed in place and did not move up. At least not yet.

He glanced over and said, "I'm glad you came."

I gained a little composure and replied, "Were you worried I'd say no?"

"I knew you wanted to come with me, but I wasn't sure you would," he said. "No one does what I do by playing it safe. I take risks every day. With my body. With my performance on and off the field. It's how I've learned to live my life. I wanted you the second I laid eyes on you across the room. You were captivating and I was captivated, so I didn't hesitate to approach you."

The pressure from his hand increased every so slightly. I squirmed a little. God can he feel how hot he is making me? I wondered to myself.

"But I also know," he continued, "that that's not how others live their lives. Most people are scared of the unknown and are afraid to take a risk. They let opportunities slip by for fear of making a mistake. I'm glad you aren't one of them."

And with that his hand moved slowly and assertively up my thigh, bunching my blue dress up as it progressed towards my thong-covered, shaved, silky smooth, available and very wet vagina.

Linda shifted in her seat, and lifted her somewhat shaking hands from the keyboard. She could feel herself getting damp. She took a couple of deep breaths before continuing the journal.

The rest of the ride was a blur. I don't remember everything, but I do know there was no more talking. He moved inside my panties at one point without any resistance from me. I don't remember him pushing his fingers inside of me. He didn't need to. He was expertly exploring and teasing, alternating between feather-light and insistent. Oh god it felt so good. I was sure I was whimpering. At some point I vaguely remember wondering if he was hard, but I didn't reach over to find out. There would be time to please him later, I remember thinking. But for the remainder of that car ride my body was hypnotized by what he was doing to me and the amazing sensations he was giving me. As we pulled into the driveway I could take no more. I gasped. My thighs involuntary squeezed together, my hands clamped down on his fingers to hold them in place and I had my first orgasm of the night coming all over that gorgeous hand.

I was still trying to compose myself when he came around and opened the door. He helped me out of the car and thank god he was there or I might have fallen. My legs were still shaking so I just leaned into him and let him half carry me into the house.

Once inside my question about Marc's arousal was quickly answered. As I wrote to Jim, he did put on some music and we slow danced. But it was not some lame guy-move to bridge some awkwardness so we could politely pass some time on the way to the bedroom as I had intimated to Jim. Like the car ride there was so much more to the story. As with everything else up to this point, the dance was intense. He gathered me up and began kissing me passionately. They were strong, purposeful kisses. I have never been kissed with so such intensity and urgency in my life. Not five mins after my last orgasm, I could feel another one building. He then moved to my ear and neck and I thought I would faint.

Standing in his living room, I made my first voluntary, free will move since I met Marc. I reached down with my hand and I explored the front of his pants. I found his erection.

I started to kiss his chest and move slowly down, but he gently grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up. At first I thought I had made a mistake, but he just pivoted and moved us both back to the couch. As he sat on the couch I knelt down between his legs. I unbuckled his belt and began to tug at his pants. His thighs were like tree trunks, hard muscle and so big around. Even his feet were beautiful. Once I had his pants off I returned to where I started. I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down. He was fully erect and did not disappoint.

I should pause for a moment and be honest here about blowjobs. I'm not a big fan. I do them, of course, because men expect them. But I don't like them. It's more of an obligation than something that excites me. Truth be told I never initiate them. Sometimes Jim asks for one and that strikes me as kind of pitiful. Sometimes he hints by pushing on my head as we kiss and that is off-putting. So on the few times when I do give in to him, it's out of sympathy and wifely obligation, not interest. I will admit that they often help speed things along, so there's that, but I never give a blowjob with the intent of finishing off the guy. This time, however, was so very different.

His penis was hard as steel, circumcised and pointing straight up towards his navel. His balls were shaved and were tight up against the base of his shaft. I was enthralled.

I once had a college boyfriend, before I started dating Jim, that crudely said, "If God made anything more beautiful than a women's pussy, he kept it to himself." I now better understand that sentiment.

Marc's penis was magnificent. I reached out and grabbed it with my left hand, my wedding band hand, and found my small hand could not completely wrap around it. Nevertheless, I starting running my hand up and down it's entire length. I was so enthralled holding someone other than Jim's penis for the first time in over 12 years that I almost hyperventilated. I could feel him groan and I got so turned on knowing I was turning him on. I sat up on my knees and guided it to my mouth. It felt and tasted so good. I was possessed. I could feel the veins and was mesmerized how it pulsed in my mouth. I moved it in and out, pushing it as far back as I could take it and then pulling it back out. My hand never stopped as my mouth continued to assault his penis.

Marc, I'm sure, has had better blow jobs, but I bet he has never had a more passionate one. The whole time I'm blowing Marc I was becoming more and more turned on knowing that me, a suburban mother of two small kids and faithful wife, had a stranger's cock in my mouth!

That sounds so cheap and vulgar, but it was true. Jim claims I never thought of him that night. That's not entirely true. He's right that I didn't think of him in the context of leaving Marc's house or realizing I had made a mistake. But I did think of Jim abstractly throughout the night as Marc did things to me. Jim was the contrast to Marc. Jim was the familiar and Marc was the new and shiny. It's kind of hard to explain, but I'll try. It is always thrilling to have sex for the first time. It's new, it's fun, it's not burdened by obligation or commitment. If I was single and Marc and I ended up in bed together from a first date or chance meeting, that would be exciting and fun. Yet, it would nowhere near approach the titillating forbidden thrill I got from knowing the man I was with was not my husband.

So yes, I did think of Jim. I thought of him as I was sucking on another man's penis and guiding him into me. I thought of him as I allowed another man to make me cum, and take me over and over again. I am not proud to write these sentiments down, but they're true. Consciously thinking that someone other than my husband was doing these things to me drove me to unheard of sexual heights.

I could feel Marc's orgasm building. His body language changed. His moans increased. I knew he was close (as was I). I pushed him all the way into my mouth and started to deep throat him as best I could. That sent both of us over the edge.

He let out a loud, "Ugh," and starting shooting his load into the back of my mouth while I came for the second time that night. I tried to swallow to keep up but it just kept coming. I didn't want to gag and for some odd reason I also didn't want to disappoint him and spill a drop. When he was done he pulled out and some of his semen came with him. I looked up at him as I used my index finger to gather up the cum on my chin. I remember staring at it on my finger, and actually rolling it between my finger and my thumb, and then sliding my finger and my thumb into my mouth and seductively licking both fingers clean. It's by far the sexiest thing I have ever pulled off.